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memories of my ghost sista

~ the dead are never satisfied

memories of my ghost sista

Tag Archives: Poetry

Quote

quote unquote

20 Saturday Feb 2016

Posted by babylon crashing in quote unquote

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Poetry, quote unquote, Walt Whitman

I saw in Louisiana a live-oak growing,
All alone stood it and the moss hung down from the branches,
Without any companion it grew there uttering joyous leaves of dark green,
And its look, rude, unbending, lusty, made me think of myself,
But I wonder’d how it could utter joyous leaves standing alone there without its friend near, for I knew I could not,
And I broke off a twig with a certain number of leaves upon it, and twined around it a little moss,
And brought it away, and I have placed it in sight in my room,
It is not needed to remind me as of my own dear friends,
(For I believe lately I think of little else than of them,)
Yet it remains to me a curious token, it makes me think of manly love;
For all that, and though the live-oak glistens there in Louisiana solitary in a wide flat space,
Uttering joyous leaves all its life without a friend a lover near,
I know very well I could not.

Walt Whitman

sheds

14 Monday Dec 2015

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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cunnilingus, dashtani, erotic poetry, heavy flow, menses, poem, Poetry, sheds, sonnet

Tonguing, leaving streaks between your cloven
lips, the spots where blushes and bruises bloom,

even during your heavy flow. Back then,
you said, you’d hide away in the bathroom.

Blood in your panties, soaked into your jeans,
and how everyone smirked. In the old tongue

even the word for menstruating means
hidden away, dashtani. “I was young,”

you said, “and Soviet-era tampons?
I’d just stay home.”
Now you press on my face,

here in the bathtub, as your uterus
sheds. I have streaks on my chin, red and bronze,

my tongue working you to a state of grace,
delving deep between your clit and anus.

][][

In Armenian, the word for menstruating, dashtan, (դաշտան), is the same root word for separation, dashtani (դաշտանի).

bloom

14 Monday Dec 2015

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, haiku, Poetry

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erotic haiku, haiku, Poetry, wheel chair

 

 

 

 

I touch the wet spot
where once you beat inside me
where bruises now bloom

Quote

quote unquote

24 Tuesday Nov 2015

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ask for, linda hogan, oceans of stars, Poetry, reblog, sheismadeinpoland

This life in the fire, I love it.
I want it,
this life.

Linda Hogan, from “The History of Red,” The Book of Medicines (Coffee House Press, 1993)

Quote

իմ երկար անձրեւոտ եղանակ

28 Wednesday Oct 2015

Posted by babylon crashing in Armenia, haiku, Poetry, quote unquote

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Armenian translation, long rainy season, poem, Poetry, reblog, tanka

haykakanerotika:

իմ կրծքեր,

իմ բեռը —

իմ երկար անձրեւոտ եղանակ

im krtsk’yer,

im berry —

im yerkar andzrevot yeghanak

my breasts

my burden —

my long rainy season

ふところに乳房ある憂さ梅雨長き

(Nobuko Katsura, Japan)

Other translations of this poem:

The nuisance

of breasts –

a long rainy season

(Leza Lowitz)

gloom in my bosom

comes about by means of breasts

long monsoon rains

(Kala Ramesh)

Quel ennui,

ces seins!

Longue saison des pluies.

(French translation by Dominique Chipot & Makoto Kemmoku)

Dieser Schmerz, unter dem Kleid

meine Brüste zu spüren –

Regenzeit, so lang!

(German translation Oskar Benl, Géza S. Dombrády and Roland
Schneider)

乳房

的累赘 –

一个漫长的雨季。

(Chinese translation by Chen-ou Liu, 劉鎮歐)

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the children of arba lijoch

19 Monday Oct 2015

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Arba Lijoch, Armenian Genocide, Haile Selassie, jah and armenia, Metz Yeghern, Poetry, reblog, sonnet

gyumriboy:

ghostsista:

— for Kwame Dawes

Crown Prince Ras Tafari brought the children
of Arba Lijoch out of the desert —

Orphans who became Ethiopian,
who sang of the Metz Yeghern, the Great Hurt;

composed, “Marsh Teferi,” the first music
Marcus Garvey heard while in audience.

I, too, have heard of, “Natural mystic
blowing/ through the air,”
Ararat’s fragrance

in each word. I’m told, Babylon crashing.
Where in Kingston is the orchestral sound

of Addis Ababa? — I listen — I
listen, but the dance halls tell me nothing.

The ghosts of Van hang low in the background.
Who will sing their song? Tell their prophesy?

Notes:
Arba Lijoch were a group of forty Armenian orphans who had escaped from the 1915 atrocities in Turkey, and were afterwards adopted by Haile Selassie I of Ethiopia. He had met them while visiting the Armenian monastery in Jerusalem; they impressed him so much that he obtained permission from the head of the Armenian church, the Catholicos, to adopt and bring them to Ethiopia, where he then arranged for them to receive musical instruction. The Arba Lijoch arrived in the capital city, Addis Ababa, in 1924, and along with their conductor, Kevork Nalbandian, became the first official orchestra of the nation. Nalbandian also composed the music for Marsh Teferi (words by Yoftehé Negusé), which was the Imperial National Anthem from 1930 to 1974. Metz Yeghern is the Armenian word for their Great Calamity, their genocide.

the children of arba lijoch

17 Saturday Oct 2015

Posted by babylon crashing in Armenia, Poetry, sonnet

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Addis Ababa, Arba Lijoch, Armenia, Armenian Genocide, Ethiopia, Haile Selassie I, Kwame Dawes, poem, Poetry, sonnet

— for Kwame Dawes

Crown Prince Ras Tafari brought the children
of Arba Lijoch out of the desert —

Orphans who became Ethiopian,
who sang of the Metz Yeghern, the Great Hurt;

composed, “Marsh Teferi,” the first music
Marcus Garvey heard while in audience.

I, too, have heard of, “Natural mystic
blowing/ through the air,”
Ararat’s fragrance

in each word. I’m told, Babylon crashing.
Where in Kingston is the orchestral sound

of Addis Ababa? — I listen — I
listen, but the dance halls tell me nothing.

The ghosts of Van hang low in the background.
Who will sing their song? Tell their prophesy?

Notes:
Arba Lijoch were a group of forty Armenian orphans who had escaped from the 1915 atrocities in Turkey, and were afterwards adopted by Haile Selassie I of Ethiopia. He had met them while visiting the Armenian monastery in Jerusalem; they impressed him so much that he obtained permission from the head of the Armenian church, the Catholicos, to adopt and bring them to Ethiopia, where he then arranged for them to receive musical instruction. The Arba Lijoch arrived in the capital city, Addis Ababa, in 1924, and along with their conductor, Kevork Nalbandian, became the first official orchestra of the nation. Nalbandian also composed the music for Marsh Teferi (words by Yoftehé Negusé), which was the Imperial National Anthem from 1930 to 1974. Metz Yeghern is the Armenian word for their Great Calamity, their genocide.

Quote

“Cow Worship” by Gerald Stern

03 Saturday Oct 2015

Posted by babylon crashing in Poetry, quotes

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cow worship, Gerald Stern, poem, Poetry, quote unquote

I love the cows best when they are a few feet away
from my dining-room window and my pine floor,
when they reach into kiss me with their wet
mouths and their white noses.
I love them as they walk over garbage cans
and across cellar doors, over the sidewalk and through the metal chairs
and the birdseed.
— Let me reach out through the thin curtains
and feel the warm air of May.
It is the temperatures of the whole galaxy,
all the bright clouds and its clusters,
beasts and heroes,
glittering singers and isolated thinkers
at pasture.

the ancient tongue of the sea

03 Saturday Oct 2015

Posted by babylon crashing in Poetry

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la mer, le mar, Poetry, snippet, the ancient tongue of the sea

le mar la
mer le mar

expectations

02 Friday Oct 2015

Posted by babylon crashing in Poetry

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expectations, middle California, part-time archaeologist, poem, Poetry, summer of 1993

We are loathed
to give such feelings
anticipation, mercy
to forests, trees of sap

In the hills of middle California
where entire mountains are cultivated
to be chopped down
right before the bulldozers & axes arrived
they’d send us, part-time archaeologists,
to verify that they weren’t destroying any,
“cultural remains;” all that summer & that heat
I walked one foot ahead of the bulldozers
looking for fire-cracked rock, obsidian,
anything to indicate that this swath
of trees, this valley,
these canyons, could be saved

and the trees held their breath
and the wind turned its cheek
as I passed by

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