The Door in The Dark


Sometimes, you’re hit in the head with a door in the dark. And then, you should close that door and stay there. Other times, you should get hit in the head with a door in the dark and try a memory reset.

The Door in The Dark

By Robert Frost

In going from room to room in the dark,

I reached out blindly to save my face,

But neglected, however lightly, to lace

My fingers and close my arms in an arc.

A slim door got in past my guard,

And hit me a blow in the head so hard

I had my native simile jarred.

So people and things don’t pair any more

With what they used to pair with before.

If You Forget Me


I found this extremely beautiful and too apt for some of the feelings that creep up in my head…

If You Forget Me

By Pablo Neruda

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.

Kind Of Love


This poem is a re-blog from: Kind Of Love

by planaquarium

I want that cardigan and sweater kind of love
That I’ll hold your umbrella in bad weather kind of love
The opening of Buick doors and visiting hospital floors,

I want that trembling, heart-arresting kind of love
That morning ambling, afternoon of resting kind of love
The paying when you said you would and saying that my cooking’s good,

I want that burning 50-yearing kind of love
That turning up my hearing aid to hear you kind of love
The I’ll let you hang up that elk if you will dance to Lawrence Welk,

I want that memory of agile kind of love
That growing stronger even when it’s fragile kind of love
The knowing where your pills are kept and slowing down for pain-filled steps,

I want that sweeping, you can’t fight it kind of love
That sweetening your tea because you like it kind of love
The folding of your sheets and whites to hold your aching sleepless nights,

I want that wrinkled, call-of-duty kind of love
That when I look at you, I still see beauty kind of love
The veined and spotted holding hands now chained and locked in tarnished bands,

I want that cardigan and sweater kind of love
That better, worse, together now forever kind of love…