Ai Shiteru.
(via imgTumble)
Now this is what i want
4:13 PM
I wanted to write poetry…
I want to write poetry,
but i’m afraid if I do
I will find I have no voice.
I will open my mouth,
wide, wide enough to swallow the earth-
but no sound.
what, cat gotcha tongue?
all the thoughts whirring incessently in my head
gone.
without a trace,
no obliging sentence
or simile to string together and call art.
ah well, it sounded better in my head.
but if its left there, to rattle around
ill go crazy, I know I will.
ah well, the paper remains empty,
the spiteful thoughts cackle in the distance,
and i walk away
again.
"But I would rather be horizontal.
I am not a tree with my root in the soil
Sucking up minerals and motherly love
So that each March I may gleam into leaf,
Nor am I the beauty of a garden bed
Attracting my share of Ahs and spectacularly painted,
Unknowing I must soon unpetal.
Compared with me, a tree is immortal
And a flower-head not tall, but more startling,
And I want the one’s longevity and the other’s daring.
Tonight, in the infinitesimal light of the stars,
The trees and the flowers have been strewing their cool odors.
I walk among them, but none of them are noticing.
Sometimes I think that when I am sleeping
I must most perfectly resemble them —
Thoughts gone dim.
It is more natural to me, lying down.
Then the sky and I are in open conversation,
And I shall be useful when I lie down finally:
Then the trees may touch me for once, and the flowers have time for me."
I am not a tree with my root in the soil
Sucking up minerals and motherly love
So that each March I may gleam into leaf,
Nor am I the beauty of a garden bed
Attracting my share of Ahs and spectacularly painted,
Unknowing I must soon unpetal.
Compared with me, a tree is immortal
And a flower-head not tall, but more startling,
And I want the one’s longevity and the other’s daring.
Tonight, in the infinitesimal light of the stars,
The trees and the flowers have been strewing their cool odors.
I walk among them, but none of them are noticing.
Sometimes I think that when I am sleeping
I must most perfectly resemble them —
Thoughts gone dim.
It is more natural to me, lying down.
Then the sky and I are in open conversation,
And I shall be useful when I lie down finally:
Then the trees may touch me for once, and the flowers have time for me."
— I Am Vertical, Sylvia Plath (via floralnymph)
