I love poets and poetry, I like prose that makes you stop and listen to the sound of the words resonating in your head after you've read them. I love lyrics that do not need music to touch the nerve endings of your heart and make your emotions fly. I love the sheer beauty of words and with them the peace that can be made, the humour that can be shared, the wounds that can be healed. Poetry saved me from my wretched childhood and swept me up on its comforts and took me far away, books were my friends, they were whole worlds that I could live in for hours at a time. The worst thing in all the world is to be shut out of the world of words, to be unable to express your thoughts in prose that will linger in the memory of others. I read poetry every day and today I read the following:
by C P Cavafy
Days to come stand in front of us
like rows of burning candles -
golden, warm, and vivid candles.
Days past fall behind us,
a gloomy line of burnt out candles;
the nearest are still smoking,
cold, melted, and bent.
I don't want to look at them: their shape saddens me,
and it saddens me to remember their original light.
I look ahead at my burning candles.
I don't want to turn, don't want to see, terrified,
how quickly that dark line gets longer,
how quickly one more dead candle joins another.
The Hardship of Accounting
By Robert Frost
Never ask of money spent
Where the spender thinks it went.
No one was ever meant
To remember or invent
What he did with every cent.