Anna - At the time you wanted me I was busy. Anna - I want you now though, even though you have another lover, I envy her. Your persistence showed me you were worth my time. But my ignorance encouraged me to ignore my heart and feed my ego.
Anna - I wish I knew better and did better. Steve - I guess this is goodbye, because with persistence I also come with, love, patients and loyalty. I am glad I never gave you the best of me.
Two women’s poems of experience
Steve - My lover truly deserves all of me. My time and my energy, my flaws and insecurities. Thank you for letting me find the best of me. Steve - You were the light that had to shine in me for me to find the best of me. Your rejection brought out a better version of me. Steve - Love stings like a blind bee it can kiss anyone and make them feel it slowly.
For those it never kisses their hearts forever remain lonely. Try Dec Drop in Center. Drop Drop into the deep end, new faces daily right up to the weekend, the realization of your current situation yet to set in. Anon Jan Pain, it's such a strange thing. It can make us feel so many different things but also nothing. I constantly question myself as to how that's possible.
POEMS syndrome: experience with fourteen cases.
To one second feel complete agony but the next, nothing. How can a feeling have such control over each and every one of our bodies in such different ways? Although, pain isn't always bad. Pain can be used to show us that we are still alive! That we can still feel. It can show us we are in control Sometimes you have no idea it's coming. Your world is turned upside down. There doesn't have to always be a trigger sometimes it's like it just enjoys taking over your body making sure you feel nothing but pain and sorrow.
There is no escaping it. It is excruciating.
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It is numbing. It is all around.
Companion Poems | British Literature Wiki
XyL0S Oct Who should I blame, If the night is Everyday, And the night is dark? Who do you blame, For the pain and it's cause? Arke May I wanted to leave this morning with hope Dreaming about how today would not be like yesterday I could get up 15 minutes earlier Wear that new little black dress that makes me feel good about myself Catch the bus on time Eat a good breakfast just like you've always told me to But I got up and had a missed call And that's when I found out you were gone And I rolled over in bed hoping this would be a bad dream And got up late And put on that little black dress that I keep for funerals And called a taxi to pick me up And I saw you one last time, pale lips and eyes cold I couldn't eat for days after Your body hooked up to humming machines I wish it had been me instead.
However this is not the case.
Poems about Life
It is a repetition with a certain difference or change. Without sight or scent or hearing the powerful magnetic current vibrates from the hypogastric plexus in the female, vibrating on to the air like some intense wireless message.
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Even more so, in Tortoise Gallantry , the female does not seem as completely nonchalant to male advances as the female in the previous poem is. Even the title of this poem, Tortoise Gallantry is less sarcastic, suggesting bravery and respect for a female who can balance her inner and outer needs.
Fragmented lines express unfulfilled longing , while vivid imagery and internal rhyme add to the poignancy of the aesthetic experience. Notice how vividly this experience is portrayed:. He is unwillingly pulled towards his desired object , as if by a stronger mysterious force. The number four once again intrudes as an indication of the fourth dimension of time, announcing the sound or cry coming from another time-zone.
As such, the tiny yet audible cry of the tortoise moves from being a particular experience to a general one encompassing all beings. We notice how fragmented lines become more pronounced, as if gather ing speed. In this way, Lawrence gives evidence that the tortoise is faster than man and that it furthermore. W ith each memory caus ing a heart-throb, r hythm moves accordingly. Breathlessly and rhythmically, one after the other , memories thus gain momentum , until finally all are forgotten and laid aside, for one single moment of extreme emotion, the climax of all memory, in a final cry:.
This last, Strange, faint coition yell Of the male tortoise at extremity, Tiny from under the very edge of the farthest far-off horizon of life. This comprises a separation from the spiritual and then a union — an uplifting and then a subsiding experience of pleasure as the soul leaves , temporarily go ing beyond the body and then returning.
Through their movement and flux , the poems go beyond the purely aesthetic experience , opening up philosophical and scientific implications. E ach poem or image is held together in cosmic, horizontal time by the sense of movement running throughout, and the resulting image of tortoises is a four dimensional one.
In the end, what remains in our minds are the timeless experiences of creative beauty: the eternal now of each moment harmoniously enclosed within units of memory. Babich E. Bell , Michael. Lawrence: Language and Being. Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press, Carman ,Taylor. Volume 28, Number 2, Eggert , Paul. Gott J. Gurudev , Sujata. The Fiction of DH Lawrence. Heidegger , Martin. On Time and Being. Joan Satmbaugh. Chicago: Chicago UP, Being and Time.
Oxford: Blackwell Publishers Ltd, Hoshi , Kumiko. Keese , Andrew. Lawrence Studies. Lawrence , D. The Letters of D. Warren Roberts, James T. Boulton and Elizabeth Mansfield. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, Fantasia of the Unconscious. Her writing deals with themes of chronic illness, concussion, recovery of voice, embodiment, queer identity, sexuality, body image, feminism, and joy. April White is an artist in St.
Her work questions societal understandings of emotion, vulnerability and control through commonly experienced involuntary actions such as yawning, waking up, sneezing, laughing, and crying. Matthew Hollett is a writer, visual artist, and web designer in St. His first book, Album Rock , was recently published by Boulder Publications. About the Project This series of poems began during a writing retreat in Flatrock, NL, where I walked to a popular swimming hole each morning.