Author Topic: Poems--from anywhere, for Brokeback Mountain sensitized feelings...  (Read 8194 times)

moremojo

  • Guest
Re: Poems--from anywhere, for Brokeback Mountain sensitized feelings...
« Reply #20 on: November 06, 2006, 10:22:10 pm »
Over his friend, Enkidu, Gilgamesh wept bitterly.
He wandered through the wilderness and cried:
"How can I rest? Despair is in my heart.
I too shall die, for am I not like Enkidu?"


--verse from Tablet IX of the Epic of Gilgamesh, adapted from various sources by Chad Gracia, and published in the introductory essay for Gilgamesh: A Verse Play (poetry by Yusef Komunyakaa; concept and dramaturgy by Chad Gracia) [Wesleyan University Press, 2006]
« Last Edit: November 06, 2006, 10:24:24 pm by moremojo »

Marge_Innavera

  • Guest
Re: Poems--from anywhere, for Brokeback Mountain sensitized feelings...
« Reply #21 on: November 09, 2006, 09:15:54 pm »
from "Gitanjali:  Songs of offering" by Rabindranath Tagore

The time that my journey takes is long and the way of it long.

I came out on the chariot of the first gleam of light, and pursued my voyage through the wildernesses of worlds leaving my track on many a star and planet.

It is the most distant course that comes nearest to thyself, and that training is the most intricate which leads to the utter simplicity of a tune.

The traveler has to knock at every alien door to come to his own, and one has to wander through all the outer worlds to reach the innermost shrine at the end.


. . . .

I am only waiting for love to give myself up at last into his hands.
That is why it is so late and why I have been guilty of such omissions.

They come with their laws and their codes to bind me fast; but I evade them ever, for I am only waiting for love to give myself up at last into his hands.

People blame me and call me heedless; I doubt not they are right in their blame.

The market day is over and work is all done for the busy.
Those who came to call me in vain have gone back in anger. I am only waiting for love to give myself up at last into his hands.

moremojo

  • Guest
"Buffalo Bill's"
« Reply #22 on: January 22, 2007, 07:25:41 pm »
I read this poem by e.e. cummings (1894-1962) over the weekend, and was immediately reminded of all things Brokeback:

Buffalo Bill's

defunct

        who used to

        ride a watersmooth-silver

                                  stallion

and break onetwothreefourfive pigeonsjustlikethat

                                                  Jesus



he was a handsome man

                      and what i want to know is

how do you like your blueeyed boy

Mister Death