Sex Without Love // Our Love

Sex Without Love - Sharon Olds

How do they do it, the ones who make love
without love? Beautiful as dancers, gliding over each other like ice-skaters
over the ice, fingers hooked inside each other's bodies, faces
red as steak, wine, wet as the
children at birth whose mothers are going to
give them away. How do they come to the 
come to the come to the God come to the 
still water, and not love
the one who came there with them, light
rising slowly as the steam off their joined
skin? These are the true religious,
the purists, the pros, the ones who will not
accept a false Messiah, love the 
preist instead of the God, They so not 
mistake the lover for their own pleasure,
they are the great runners: they know they are aline
with the road surface, the cold, the wind,
the fir of their shoes, their over-all cardio-
vascular health- just factors, like the partner
in the bed, and not the truth, which is the 
single body alone in the universe
against its own best time.

Our Love - Diamelen Partridge

Love, thick as thieves, yet
as delicate as the paper you write it on.
Unfolding.
I open it up, I lay my eyes upon it.
Upon you.
So fragile are the actions we engage in,
wondering if the palpitations are mutual.
Shocked is my cheek from the spark of your lips.
This is no longer a simple admiration, but a skipping
of my heart. Stopped with your words,
started with your smile. It a viscous ongoing cycle.
Is this love? Your head as it rests in my lap?
Different is this love that we have. I feel it
in your smile, in your laugh. Not in the way
my friends so constantly rave about.
Your hand so much larger than mine
but made just for me. We've gone from
a shy glance to you so generously rubbing my sore feet.
Im convinced.
I can see it, it's as thick as the blood that fuels
my internal flame for you.
For us.



**Please forgive me for I have no reason why the first poem is in a different color.**

A Beginning to an End

Where the Sidewalk Ends:
Shel Silverstein

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
and before the street begins,
and there the grass grows soft and white,
and there the sun burns crimson bright,
and there the moon-bird rests from his flight
to cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
and the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
we shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow
and watch where the chalk-white arrows go
to the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
and we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
for the children, they mark, and the children, they know,
the place where the sidewalk ends.

Response: A Beginning to an End

This is where is all begins 

it's the place where the sidewalk ends.

Where dreams arise and find the light,

where the sun comes up from the night,

and were all amazed by our new sight

of the world and yet to come.

We are all to take the leap into the new world,

and to find our blossoming niches.

This can be somewhat bizarre, 

similar to driving a brand new car,

but amongst the stars we find who we are

past where the sidewalk ends.

Sure, it may take a push, and a shove,

but wonder is what we find plenty of,

our family emitting tons of love,

this is where it all begins.

We Grow Accustomed to the Dark

   To be honest, I have tried to steer clear of Poetry. However, I felt that Emily Dickinson's poem We Grow Accustomed to the Dark lured me when we read it in class. The words not only had a punch when spoken, there was also a softness to them.

  That being said, I feel like the subject of the poem was mysterious yet beautiful.

  The absence of light, to me, in the beginning seems to try and invoke fear. As we go along, we are given a glimpse of hope. The moon comes out and there is a possibility for a star to shine within. One looks forward to this sliver of light.

   I think the reason I found this the concept so fascinating is because dark is unknown. People today find thrill and excitement from the dark. From the unknown.


This clip is from a T.V. show on the Syfy channel. Contestants compete in the dark to win a grand prize. This is an example where darkness produces fear.

This link is to a popular restaurant where customers can dine in the dark. They are able to experience food in a whole new light (haha). 

                                           
                                            http://www.darkdining.com/index_main.php

A Very Old Man, Continued.

   A Very Old Man with Enormous wings is a heart wrenching tale. An old man is cast down into a village of fault finders. A family in need of a savior. The old man unknowingly happened to be their light. Miraculously, their child was healed but did not know how and were left to wonder.  Heedless to the actions of the old man, they stripped him of pride, selling it to eager vultures for a pretty penny. Over seasons, a seed of faith grew inside the aching heart of the frail man. As did his feathers. One morning, with the rising sun, his wings followed and he soared. The village shrank with every flap of his pride.