God Says Yes To Me

[harborshore]

This poem--I don't believe in god, but there's something about it that just makes me feel like dancing.


God Says Yes To Me
Kaylin Haught

I asked God if it was okay to be melodramatic
and she said yes
I asked her if it was okay to be short
and she said it sure is
I asked her if I could wear nail polish
or not wear nail polish
and she said honey
she calls me that sometimes
she said you can do just exactly
what you want to
Thanks God I said
And is it even okay if I don't paragraph
my letters
Sweetcakes God said
who knows where she picked that up
what I'm telling you is
Yes Yes Yes



Do you have a poem or a quote or a song that makes you happy? Feel free to post it in the comments, lovelings. ♥

Comments

Re: enormous poetry geek, hi

[harborshore.livejournal.com]

Dude, from one geek to another: are there any better genres to geek out about? Every word is significant! ♥

And this is gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous. The second stanza in particular:

I want to be bruised by God.
I want to be strung up in a strong light and singled out.
I want to be stretched, like music wrung from a dropped seed.
I want to be entered and picked clean.

It reminds me of one of my favorite poets, Finnish-Swedish Edith Södergran. Assertive and exhilarating, if that makes sense.

Re: enormous poetry geek, hi

[emilyenrose.livejournal.com]

I don't know Edith Sodergran! Is any of her work in English? Should I look her up?

P.S. If you want awesome poetry you should look at Pomegranate. I mean, I'm biased because I've been involved with the editorial team for the last two years, but I think it's pretty awesome.

Re: enormous poetry geek, hi

[harborshore.livejournal.com]

No--she wrote primarily in Swedish, but there are a couple of poems in Russian and a fair number in German as well. The existing English translations are, hmm, some are better than others, but I've done some. So, hey, have three of her shorter poems:


God is still awake

What ails me?
– the pages go to the publisher
– everything is done.
The moon rises – my longing curls up in bed. –
Twisting in bed, my longing
laughs infernally:
God is still awake –
blissful angels, sleepless around his throne!

(1918)


Distinction

Is god a villain?

Does he cast his bravest angel from the sky?
No – I say:
He gave me honey and wormwood.
I poured the bubbling broth over earth.
The mold held.
He gave me a black-red rose –
smallest in the world.
It sets me apart from others,
visible from afar on my white robe.

(September 1918)

Scherzo

Stars above, clear and true, my heart
on earth, the clear and true.
Magnificent starry night, we are one.
Don’t I sit here, shivering on a tightrope of constellations,
as if it could snap?

Time, is that you, sleepy abyss,
yawning, mocking me?
You endanger the dancer’s feet, aching,
her climber’s arms, slackening,
recklessly taut strands of pearls.

Time – perish.
Every star, twinkling in my face: I’m you!
Every star kisses my lips: stay with me!
They circle around me, closer, closer,
my body in stardust.
What do I do in there? Do I cry?
The evening dreams. The ocean king drinks,
makes a toast from the clam.
No one may move. But the dancer rises
on her midnight toes
kneels and reaches out
kissing the fair one.

That does indeed look awesome! It will no doubt provide me with excellent distractions at work this week, which, yay. And it also makes me want to go back and look at the original poetry I wrote the fall after I got back from college. Just because I failed at editing it then and the subsequent three times that I tried doesn't mean I'll fail at editing it now, right?

Man, I love poetry, but it is a bitch sometimes.