I would not exchange the sorrows of my heart
For the joys of the multitude.
child sprung from
the two of us — showing
It was very hot. The day had gone just past its noon. I'd stretched out on a couch to take a nap.
by Ovid
27 lines, 2 comments
O Lord, we come this morning Knee-bowed and body-bent
In the stillness of night Wisdom came and stood By my bed. She gazed upon me like a tender mother
It is dangerous for a woman to defy the gods; To taunt them with the tongue's thin tip,
After our fierce loving in the brief time we found to be together,
What can you do with a woman under thirty?
It's true she has a certain freshness, like a green apple,
A poet is not a jukebox, so don’t tell me what to write. I read a dear friend a poem about love, and she said,
Hair-braided chestnut, coiled like a lyncher's rope,
But oh, I suppose she was ugly; she wasn't elegant; I hadn't yearned for her often in my prayers.
by Ovid
85 lines, 1 comment
She didn't know she was beautiful, though her smiles were dawn,
Black love, provide the adequate electric for what is lapsed and lenient in us now.
Gay little Girl-of-the-Diving-Tank, I desire a name for you,
While some "rap" over this turmoil of who was Blackest first
Already over the sea from her old spouse she comes, the blonde goddess whose frosty wheels bring day.
If ever a garden was Gethsemane, with old tombs set high against
Then must I always bear your endless accusations?
Our own shadows disappear as the feet of thousands by the tens of thousands pound the fallow land
A length of gut whereon the horsehairs whine,
The tapping of a hammer on a string,
A winding movement on the slope beside the rapids of the river.
The abyss at the stern, The swiftness of the incline,
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