Poetry

[Obzocky]

The newest poem added to the favourites list is "The Lesson of the Moth" by Don Marquis.

the lesson of the moth, by Don Marquis, in "archy and mehitabel," 1927


i was talking to a moth
the other evening
he was trying to break into
an electric light bulb
and fry himself on the wires

why do you fellows
pull this stunt i asked him
because it is the conventional
thing for moths or why
if that had been an uncovered
candle instead of an electric
light bulb you would
now be a small unsightly cinder
have you no sense

plenty of it he answered
but at times we get tired
of using it
we get bored with the routine
and crave beauty
and excitement
fire is beautiful
and we know that if we get
too close it will kill us
but what does that matter
it is better to be happy
for a moment
and be burned up with beauty
than to live a long time
and be bored all the while
so we wad all our life up
into one little roll
and then we shoot the roll
that is what life is for
it is better to be a part of beauty
for one instant and then cease to
exist than to exist forever
and never be a part of beauty
our attitude toward life
is come easy go easy
we are like human beings
used to be before they became
too civilized to enjoy themselves

and before i could argue him
out of his philosophy
he went and immolated himself
on a patent cigar lighter
i do not agree with him
myself i would rather have
half the happiness and twice
the longevity

but at the same time i wish
there was something i wanted
as badly as he wanted to fry himself

archy

 

[AlexBP]

Another one from G. K. Chesterton:

The Holy of Holies


Elder father, though thine eyes
Shine with hoary mysteries
Canst thou say what in the heart
of the cowslip blossom lies?

Smallest of all lives that be,
Secret as the deepest see,
Stands a tiny house of seeds
Like an Elfin's granary.

Speller of the stones and weeds,
Skilled in nature's crafts and creeds,
Tell me what lies in the heart
Of the smallest of the seeds.

God almighty and with him
Cherubim and Seraphim
Filling all eternity.
Adonai Elohim.

 

[Scottish Knight]

Prospice

by Robert Browning


Fear death?---to feel the fog in my throat,

The mist in my face,

When the snows begin, and the blasts denote

I am nearing the place,

The power of the night, the press of the storm,

The post of the foe;

Where he stands, the Arch Fear in a visible form;

Yet the strong man must go:

For the journey is done and the summit attained,

And the barriers fall,

Though a battle's to fight ere the guerdon be gained,

The reward of it all.

I was ever a fighter, so---one fight more,

The best and the last!

I would hate that Death bandaged my eyes, and forbore,

And made me creep past.

No! let me taste the whole of it, fare like my peers,

The heroes of old,

Bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad life's arrears

Of pain, darkness and cold.

For sudden the worst turns the best to the brave.

The black minute's at end,

And the elements' rage, the fiend voices that rave,

Shall dwindle, shall blend,

Shall change, shall become first a peace out of pain.

Then a light, then thy breast,

O thou soul of my soul! I shall clasp thee again,

And with God be the rest!