Monday, June 7, 2010

Thinking of Night Poems

Night Song
By Philip Booth

Beside you,
Lying down at dark,
My waking fits your sleep.

Your turning
Flares the slow-banked fire
Between our mingled feet,

And there,
Curved close and warm
Against the nape of love,

Held there,
Who holds your dreaming
Shape, I match my breathing

To your breath;
And sightless, keep my hand
On your heart's breast, keep

On your sleep to prove
There is no dark, nor death.


Plaque for a Brass Bed
By Charles Philbrick

Everything else is just furniture.  This  bed
is frame on which, in light or dark, forgiveness
weaves itself, and failure fails to matter.
Here love has worked, and pain has visited;
here life has struck; here death may still the sheets:
this bed our garden, altar, engine-room,
the tablet of whatever testament our blood
has written in our more than twenty years.


Quote by Miranda July


Sue said...

Beautiful poems, both.


Eric Alder said...

I'm glad to see that you're not having problems with Bogger today, unlike so many others. I haven't been able to post anything on my blogs all day. Oh well, I'll just keep on trying!

Kelly said...

Both are good, but I love that first one!

Wine and Words said...

Oh man I want that bed, and I lover to speak that poem to me while I lay on it. Beautiful my Marion. I love it!

Love you!

Marion said...

I love that bed, as well, Marion!! Imagine waking up in it and seeing the tree branches in the dark. I know I would have wonderful dreams in it.

I like Plaque for a Brass Bed. Beds are so full of so many life altering decisions and grief and joy. Thanks for this post...I've never thought of my mundane bed as something which could inspire these delightful thoughts!

Marion said...

Oh, yeah, that bed is awesome, isn't it? I was looking for pictures of brass beds online and came across it. Should I win the lotto, I'm having it custom made just for me!

Thank you all for your kind comments. I've been hiding out from the already unbearable heat here in Louisiana. Walking out the door sucks the air from your lungs, it's so humid. Love & Blessings to you all! xoxo

Woman in a Window said...

That last bit, so optimistic in the beginning and then knee wobbling in the end! The Plaque I read this line as this: here death may steal the sheets. Ha! Apparently I'm in a battle for 'em! Durned death!

Marion, I can not imagine living with that humidity. My kids are just home this morning and they bounded to couch, my son putting his winter coat on over his shorts and t-shirt. We got a cold rain last night. Our heat has temporarily left us. I have to say, this makes me very very happy. I don't think I could make it through your heat!

Stay cool. Loads of lemonade.