Poetry is the journal of the sea animal living on land, wanting to fly in the air. Poetry is a search for syllables to shoot at the barriers of the unknown and the unknowable. Poetry is a phantom script telling how rainbows are made and why they go away. Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance - Carl Sandburg..........Poetry should be great and unobtrusive, a thing which enters into one's soul, and does not startle it or amaze it with itself, but with its subject - John Keats .........Poetry is the breath and finer spirit of all knowledge - William Wordsworth ..........Poets utter great and wise things which they do not themselves understand - Plato .........No man was ever yet a great poet, without being at the same time a profound philosopher. For poetry is the blossom and the fragrance of all human knowledge, human thoughts, human passions, emotions, language - Samuel Taylor Coleridge .........One demands two things of a poem. Firstly, it must be a well-made verbal object that does honor to the language in which it is written. Secondly, it must say something significant about a reality common to us all, but perceived from a unique perspective. What the poet says has never been said before, but, once he has said it, his readers recognize its validity for themselves - W. H. Auden ...........Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash - Leonard Cohen .........There is a pleasure in poetic pains which only poets know - William Cowper .........Genuine poetry can communicate before it is understood -T. S. Eliot ..........Poetry heals the wounds inflicted by reason - Novalis...........He who draws noble delights from sentiments of poetry is a true poet, though he has never written a line in all his life - George Sand .........A poem is never finished, only abandoned - Paul Valery ........A poet is a bird of unearthly excellence, who escapes from his celestial realm arrives in this world warbling. If we do not cherish him, he spreads his wings and flies back into his homeland - Kahlil Gibran.............Poetry should strike the reader as a wording of his own highest thoughts, and appear almost a remembrance - John Keats..........To be a poet is a condition, not a profession - Robert Frost........A poem is true if it hangs together. Information points to something else. A poem points to nothing but itself - E. M. Forster.........Publishing a volume of verse is like dropping a rose petal down the Grand Canyon and waiting for the echo - Don Marquis...........Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion; it is not the expression of personality, but an escape from personality. But, of course, only those who have personality and emotions know what it means to want to escape from these things - T. S. Eliot ..........You can tear a poem apart to see what makes it tick. You're back with the mystery of having been moved by words. The best craftsmanship always leaves holes and gaps so that something that is not in the poem can creep, crawl, flash or thunder in - Dylan Thomas .........Poetry is boned with ideas, nerved and blooded with emotions, all held together by the delicate, tough skin of words - Paul Engle......... There is not a joy the world can give like that it takes away! Lord Byron

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潇潇- 中国

在二十四层的高楼上

——致友人

潇潇 - 中国

 

绝望诞生在希望之前

当一个帝国充满了哀歌的夜晚

我蹬上二十四层的高楼

两个从前的旧友

已坐在窗前，从低沉的电视中

俯视一个领袖沉睡的姿势

远景一般，最神秘最巨大的死亡

早已被元宵的节日笼罩在遥远的往昔之中

我们就像来到天堂逗留的客人

在拂晓之前，听不到一点悲戚的声音

在今夜，你们比哲人更智慧更敏捷

 

雷君依然身材矮小，神思高大

他离地心越近的心脏，总是

更易滋生小小的爱情和模糊的缘分

孙君眼窝深陷，唇齿干渴

超负荷的背脊微微弯曲

财富滚滚而来

脸相却更加消瘦，忧郁而陌生

 

几年不相往来

我繁丽、体贴的衣衫

却掩盖不了我拘谨的内心

 

我们在茶水和电视的哀歌中

度过问寒问暖的光阴

一个领袖的死亡变成人们聚会的背景

像三个暂时被抛弃的人

我们漫长的一生，在二十四层的高处

被浓缩成二月的某一个夜晚

电视中的哀乐一遍又一遍

而我们的神情却一致的平静

三人对坐，形单孤影

 

仿佛梦中的高空被打扰

当一根纸烟被火焰点燃

二十四层静谧的门外

突然又拥进了一大群男人

他们的音容笑貌都流露出贵州的风水

略带家乡的口音，开门见山

使这一夜四壁生辉，丰盈如泉

让我看到，他们的学识和经历

在今夜朴素地生长

比二十四层的高楼更高

我坐在这七个智者的中间

犹如新年里的第一枚月亮

身轻如燕，春色荡漾

而他们神采飞扬起来

自己戏称“七个小矮人”

 

感谢在冬天，你们还能

用对抗和批评的热情

来关怀一个怀旧的女诗人

正如你们不是英雄

男人怕天亮，女人怕天黑

上帝死了，老婆还在？！

激情像一个长期睡眠的天使

在融融的气氛中醒来

在每一个人的胸中跳来跳去

 

我从角色中回到现实

雷君像一个善意的操纵者

孙君开怀大笑，却又深藏不露

让黑色的幽默比黑夜更黑

用一颗悲悯的心灵表达

“连魔鬼都不敢要的人就只能进天堂”

 

第二天，当我再一次返回二十四层的高楼

房中的主人在困倦中昏昏入睡

剩下我和一位南方的女子以及你

三人对坐，各怀心思

幸运的南方女子即将嫁人

而你，一副桥牌将赢到底的样子

坐在今夜的深处，在熟睡的天穹中

能够仰望平静的死亡

 

寒冷的早晨，我们单薄的身体

轻飘飘地从二十四层的高处返回到地面

我冬日的呼吸，温暖的手和驰骋的心

轻风，蝴蝶翻飞，好梦直到非洲

在这样一个早晨

显示了一切存在的合理性

甚至苦难，淹没在完整的遗忘之中

 

当这个帝国充满了哀歌的时候

我们就像一副世外的桥牌

优雅和颓废犹如牌上的点子

随意飞落在每一个人的脸上

或者一局桥牌，一场潜在的战争

一生的游戏，可以使你愤怒起来

正如我们短暂的一生，有输有赢

正如你巨大的财富是你最大的敌人

 

 

 

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