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September 14, 2000
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At his incipient sun
The ice of twenty winters broke,
Crackling, in her eyes.
Her mirroring, still mind,
That held the world (made double) calm,
Went fluid, and it ran.
There was a stir of music,
Mixed with flowers, in her blood;
A swift impulsive balm
From obscure roots;
Gold bees of clinging light
Swarmed in her brow.
Her throat is full of songs,
She hums, she is sensible of wings
Growing on her heart.
She is a tree in spring
Trembling with the hope of leaves,
Of which the leaves are tongues.
Excerpted from The Collected Poems by Stanley Kunitz,
copyright © 2000 by Stanley Kunitz,
with permission of the publisher, W.W. Norton & Co., Inc.
Stanley Kunitz and Nerve.com
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Commentarium (20 Comments)
Terrific poem from the ol' fella! What's he, 90 years old? Gotta read his new book I guess. If I can write a poem like that when I'm that age, withor without viagra, god bless me.
what can i add to this?
enjoy it, kimberly.
just that. you cute girl, you.
I found this poem and it
My delight, your wish............I wish I may, I wish I might, Have the first kiss with you tonight.!
and the only one
who're you trying to fool?
save ko lang tong na research ko!!!!!!!
You should read this then write back to me like i told you to do with the last poem that i sent you. This one is nothing like the last one because this one is about love and the other one was about death.
LOVE YOU
Tara
nena2@freeze.com
it s so very true
i thought it had no point and it sucked
hi
Can't Say It
By Judy
I can't say I love you because I am scary.
I can't say I want be you because I just that I will a run alway for you.
I can't say what I can say.
Can't Say It
By Judy
I can't say I love you because I am scary.
I can't say I want be you because I just that I will a run alway for you.
I can't say what I can say.
hi
UR POEMS SUCK
i love you alison call me when you read this it made me think of you
FIRST LOVE NEVER DIES!!!!!
i can explain my feelings of what can i do ,when thae time come with our street are uphold already .
At his incipient sun
The ice of twenty winters broke,
Crackling, in her eyes.
Her mirroring, still mind,
That held the world (made double) calm,
Went fluid, and it ran.
There was a stir of music,
Mixed with flowers, in her blood;
A swift impulsive balm
From obscure roots;
Gold bees of clinging light
Swarmed in her brow.
Her throat is full of songs,
She hums, she is sensible of wings
Growing on her heart.
She is a tree in spring
Trembling with the hope of leaves,
Of which the leaves are tongues.
Now you say something