Darkness
Somewhere, I lie in between
Life keeping me in the dark and
Me keeping myself in the dark.
Poems on the topic: self
Poems on the topic “self” on Poets.by.
narcissist
I am the only narcissist
Who is obsessed
With hating myself
your secret
If you say you don't have any secret
You really have the real one.
Its even secret from yourself.
You are that secretive that you never told yourself.
as you love yourself
You were told to love others as you love yourself, believing you know how to love yourself already.
Location
I am my home,
my real estate.
Memory contests the deed
and title, would
force me to live
in recall, a phantom
condominium of fate.
I am the shack
of me, a self with rooms,
a past out back,
an attic that looms,
a pantry with brooms.
This is why blankets
at 4:13 a.m. feel
(why rain badgering
roof over the roof
You and You
You must be you for you to be.
I know: to be the only you
is difficult. You must repeat
the same old strengths and flaws, ensure
quirks and habits stay organized,
a regiment of personhood.
You cannot disappear from you.
When you're asleep, you're sleeping you;
your altered consciousness is altered
you, but you-never-the-less.
It could be worse. I know you can
supply examples of just how.
But still—how strange to have just one
attempt at consciousness in all
of Time, to have to spend it on
one incarnationality—
Tea at the Palaz of Hoon
Not less because in purple I descended
The western day through what you called
The loneliest air, not less was I myself.
What was the ointment sprinkled on my beard?
What were the hymns that buzzed beside my ears?
What was the sea whose tide swept through me there?
Out of my mind the golden ointment rained,
And my ears made the blowing hymns they heard.
I was myself the compass of that sea:
I was the world in which I walked, and what I saw
Or heard or felt came not but from myself;
And there I found myself more truly and more strange.
The Sanctuary
If I could keep my innermost Me
Fearless, aloof and free
Of the least breath of love or hate,
And not disconsolate
At the sick load of sorrow laid on men;
If I could keep a sanctuary there
Free even of prayer,
If I could do this, then,
With quiet candor as I grew more wise
I could look even at God with grave forgiving eyes.
"Oh You Are Coming"
Oh you are coming, coming, coming,
How will hungry Time put by the hours till then?--
But why does it anger my heart to long so
For one man out of the world of men?
Oh I would live in myself only
And build my life lightly and still as a dream--
Are not my thoughts clearer than your thoughts
And colored like stones in a running stream?
Now the slow moon brightens in heaven,
The stars are ready, the night is here--
Oh why must I lose myself to love you,
My dear?
On the Sussex Downs
Over the downs there were birds flying,
Far off glittered the sea,
And toward the north the weald of Sussex
Lay like a kingdom under me.
I was happier than the larks
That nest on the downs and sing to the sky,
Over the downs the birds flying
Were not so happy as I.
It was not you, though you were near,
Though you were good to hear and see,
It was not earth, it was not heaven
It was myself that sang in me.
Songs About Life and Brighter Things Yet XVI
There's no one that I'd like to be
One half so much as I or me.
And though I sup on meager bran,
I'd change the menu, not the man.
Love-songs, at Once Tender and Informative VI
She gave me her heart —
Oh, the sweetness of it!
She gave me her hand —
The petiteness of it!
She gave me herself —
Oh, the wonder of it !
I gave her myself —
Oh, the blunder of it!
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