Won’t you come into the garden?

Won’t you come into the garden? I would like my roses to see you.
— Richard Brinsley Sheridan

Of everything I have seen,
it’s you I want to go on seeing:
Of everything I’ve touched,
it’s your flesh I want to go on touching.
I love your orange laughter.
I am moved by the sight of you sleeping.
— Pablo Neruda

I think of you so often you have no idea.
James Joyce, Ulysses

I exist in two places.
Here, and where you are.
— Margaret Atwood, Selected Poems(1965-1975)

Before I loved you, Love,
nothing was my own,
I wavered through the streets,
among objects,
nothing mattered or had a name,
the world was made of air…
— Pablo Neruda, Sonnet XXV

I taste the good and bad in you and want them both.
— Anita Ofokansi

Often it is the most deserving people who cannot help loving those who destroy them.
— Hermann Hesse

Sometimes, the only soul that can mend a broken heart is the one that broke it. For they are the ones holding all the pieces.
— Patti Roberts, The Angels Are Here

“I forgave everybody, I gave up, I got drunk.”
Jack Kerouac, On the Road

ωραία ρητά

Υπάρχει κι ένας άλλος κόσμος. Αλλά είναι μέσα σ’ αυτόν εδώ.

       Όλα μάς αποχαιρετούν, όλα μακραίνουν.
       Η μνήμη δεν εξαργυρώνει το νόμισμά της.
       Και ασφαλώς κάτι υπάρχει που απομένει
              και ασφαλώς κάτι υπάρχει που θρηνεί.

Από τις εννιά το βράδυ και μετά δε σκέφτομαι παρά μόνο εσένα. Μη νομίσεις πως δεν σε σκέφτομαι τις άλλες ώρες. Μα από τις εννιά και μετά δε σκέφτομαι τίποτ’άλλο εκτός από εσένα, και μεταξύ εννιά και δέκα, μια ώρα σου γράφω ποιήματα…

τα σώματά μας θα χαθούν θα σβύσουν
από μας θα μείνει μέχρι της συντελείας των αιώνων
αυτό το «σε αγαπώ» που σου ψιθύρισα στις ώρες μας τις πιο κρυφές

       “Αύριο”, λες,
       και μέσα σ’ αυτήν τη μικρή αναβολή παραμονεύει ολόκληρο
       το πελώριο ποτέ.

Τάσος Λειβαδίτης

Τέλειωσε το ταξίδι μας….
Μην ξεχάσεις ποτέ
πόσο σφικτά,
πόσο ζεστά
σου κράτησα το χέρι…

Γεωργία Ν. Αγγελοπούλου – Παπαβασιλείου

              και παρόλο που ξέραμε πως ο χρόνος
              δεν ήταν ποτέ με το μέρος μας
              από καμιά άποψη,
              βάζαμε τα δυνατά μας
             να διατηρήσουμε την ψευδαίσθηση
             γιατί ξέραμε ότι κανείς άλλος
              δεν θα καταλάβαινε ποτέ τι ήμασταν.
              κι ούτε που περιμέναμε άλλωστε
             κάτι τέτοιο.

Ενδιαφέροντα βιντεάκια

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[πηγή: youtube What The Heck Is Gluten? AsapSCIENCE]

[πηγή: youtube Can Plants Think? AsapSCIENCE]

[πηγή: youtube Climate Change Debate: Last Week Tonight with John Oliver (HBO) LastWeekTonight]

[πηγή: youtube Sir Winston Churchill – Funeral (I Vow To Thee) – The Nation’s Farewell 5:28]

Love Poem XIV

Every day you play with the light of the universe.
Subtle visitor, you arrive in the flower and the water.
You are more than this white head that I hold tightly
as a cluster of fruit, every day, between my hands.

You are like nobody since I love you.
Let me spread you out among yellow garlands.
Who writes your name in letters of smoke among the stars of the south?
Oh let me remember you as you were before you existed.

Suddenly the wind howls and bangs at my shut window.
The sky is a net crammed with shadowy fish.
Here all the winds let go sooner or later, all of them.
The rain takes off her clothes.

The birds go by, fleeing.
The wind. The wind.
I can contend only against the power of men.
The storm whirls dark leaves
and turns loose all the boats that were moored last night to the sky.

You are here. Oh, you do not run away.
You will answer me to the last cry.
Cling to me as though you were frightened.
Even so, at one time a strange shadow ran through your eyes.

Now, now too, little one, you bring me honeysuckle,
and even your breasts smell of it.
While the sad wind goes slaughtering butterflies
I love you, and my happiness bites the plum of your mouth.

How you must have suffered getting accustomed to me,
my savage, solitary soul, my name that sends them all running.
So many times we have seen the morning star burn, kissing our eyes,
and over our heads the gray light unwind in turning fans.

My words rained over you, stroking you.
A long time I have loved the sunned mother-of-pearl of your body.
I go so far as to think that you own the universe.
I will bring you happy flowers from the mountains, bluebells,
dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses.

I want
to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.