Shakes4Supes

24th September 2012

Quote reblogged from A Writer's Ruminations with 1,096 notes

I see the mountains in the sky; the great clouds; and the moon; I have a great and astonishing sense of something there, which is “it” - it is not exactly beauty that I mean. It is that the thing is in itself enough: satisfactory, achieved. A sense of my own strangeness, walking on the earth is there too: of the infinite oddity of the human position; with the moon up there and those mountain clouds. Who am I, what am I, and so on: these questions are always floating about in me.

Tagged: virginia woolfdiariesquote

Source: violentwavesofemotion

20th September 2012

Quote reblogged from A Writer's Ruminations with 177 notes

When I am asked
how I began writing poems,
I talk about the indifference of nature.

It was soon after my mother died,
a brilliant June day,
everything blooming.

I sat on a gray stone bench
in a lovingly planted garden,
but the day lilies were as deaf
as the ears of drunken sleepers
and the roses curved inward.
Nothing was black or broken
and not a leaf fell
and the sun blared endless commercials
for summer holidays.

I sat on a gray stone bench
ringed with the ingenue faces
of pink and white impatiens
and placed my grief
in the mouth of language,
the only thing that would grieve with me.

Tagged: lisel muellerwhen i am asked