It's always poetry

Generally speaking, I prefer the written word when it comes to art. I like paintings, sculptures (LOVE that), architecture, and music. But the written word is my favorite.

About a year ago I found a friend in possession of this book. I asked if I could borrow it and proceeded to not return it for 8 months. I found that I just kept coming back to it. Over and over again. Oscar Williams was brilliant - this is my favorite compilation of anything ever.

Now, The Count of Monte Cristo is my favorite book, but I think if I had to pick a book to read for the rest of my life, I might choose this one. It explains more about human emotion than I've ever read. It describes more things than I think I will ever experience.

I read all the poems in this book, and I constantly questioned everything about them. What is the author going through? Why that word? Would I have done something differently? Do men really feel this deeply (I have absolutely zero experience with men, so whenever they write poetry or music, I find my skeptical nature rises to the surface)? What is the story behind this poem? Did he marry this girl? Did she waste in loneliness?

And it's so beautiful how much I learned from this book. Some of the most beautiful poems about stuff I'd never think to write about! Poems about the breeze, aging, truth, stillness, histories, brotherhood, and so many others. It's just a delightful book in every aspect.

And this post is me waxing lyrical.

And now for some levity:

"Advice to my Son"

by Peter Meinke

The trick is, to live your days,

as if each one may be your last

(for they go fast, and young men lose their lives

in strange and unimaginable ways)

but at the same time, plan long range

(for they go slow: if you survive

the shattered windshield and the bursting shell

you will arrive

at our approximation here below

of heaven or hell).

To be specific, between the peony and the rose

plant squash and spinach, turnips and tomatoes;

beauty is nectar

and nectar, in a desert, saves -

but the stomach craves stronger sustenance

than the honied vine.

Therefore, marry a pretty girl

after seeing her mother;

show your soul to one man,

work with another,

and always serve bread with your wine.

But , son,

always serve wine.