How it is
The pain from which I bathe gives me strength
The sorrow from which I eat gives me health
The grief from which I breathe gives me life
And the blood from which I drink heals the welts
I walk in the fears of life
I sleep in the tears of the poor
I learn from the terrors of the many
I live in the shadows of lost lore
I give back to authority just what they give me
I return the jeers of my friends
I take from my peers what belongs to me
And turn a smile on them again
Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.
Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
|---|---|---|
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
| Sound off | 0 | 08/15/2012 |
| How it is | 0 | 01/23/2012 |
| He is gone... | 0 | 11/12/2010 |
| Uncertainty | 0 | 06/11/2010 |
| Lost in the void | 0 | 11/28/2009 |
| Who is he? | 1 | 09/26/2009 |
| What passion remains | 2 | 07/16/2009 |
| Angel from Beyond | 4 | 07/13/2009 |
| She of darkness and light | 1 | 07/12/2009 |
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