Poem: I Will Remember You

couple in love lying down bw

I Will Remember You

I will remember you
because I Love You.
I love you more than Life.
If i never knew you
I would not be here.
And for that I will love you
unconditionally,
I wish I didn’t sometimes
but it was predestined

I’ll never forget you
I couldn’t let myself
I can’t move on only to forget
The Love of My Life
The One made for me
Because I was born to make you happy…

 


Other poems by Catherine can be found in her poetry book “The Quarter Life Crisis Poet”
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www.CatherineVaughan.com
Twitter: @CattVaughan
Facebook: /CatherineVaughanWriter

 

Poem: The Lake District

girl lake district

We sat on the grass field.
Picnic. Plaid rug.
You eating fast
looking at me.
I take one small bite.
Because I feel sad, I’m lonely.
You lean in and kiss me.
Impatient, fast.

You unravel my dress
the straps fall…
Nothing guarding me from your selfish grasp…

You unzip and slip
We’re one

Tears fall down my face.
You place your hand behind my head
and whisper:
“My beauty, my love don’t cry”
You nuzzle your head into my neck
and lean deeper into me
following the scent of your desire.

You tell me you love me.
My heart is so broken

You love me back to life
but it is not enough.
You kiss my lips, my cheeks,
my forehead.
You look into my eyes
Hands tenderly slip down
affectionately, considerately…

Again you whisper:
“I love you.”
I don’t move.
Tears just fall down my face.

It’s too late,
I needed this in an earlier season.
You came back
for no reason.

You ease in and out of my life
as you do with
My Body.

But still I hold onto you and whisper for you to
hold me,
love me,
adore me….

Restore me.

31.1.16

Reading Howl for the first time…

Howl 1

It was a Tuesday (13.6.17) evening and my 22nd print edition (1969) of Allen Ginsberg’s “Howl and other poems” had arrived via Priority Mail. I had been meaning to own this for a while.

I opened the book at random, enter Howl. I Youtubed Allen and searched for his reading of this poem on my phone. I hit play and sat on my bed reading his words and hearing his words. Beat Consciousness streamed through my being…

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness,
starving hysterical naked…

 

Source

 

…Who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to 

Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge,
a lost battalion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the
stoops off fire escapes off windowsills of Empire State out
of the moon,
yacketayakking screaming…

#GinsbergGlasses

Ali-G SQ13.5.17_SQ_3

 

 

 

 

 

…Who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to
Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver &
brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find
out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes,
who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each
other’s salvation and light and breasts, until the soul
illuminated its hair for a second…
I’m with you in Rockland
where you laugh at this invisible humor
I’m with you in Rockland
where we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter
I’m with you in Rockland

It was lengthy punch lines, knocking me out. I continued listening as he read Footnote to Howl.

Holy the sea holy the desert holy the railroad holy the locomotive holy the visions holy the hallucinations holy the miracles holy the eyeball holy the abyss!
Holy forgiveness! mercy! charity! faith! Holy! Ours! bodies! suffering! magnanimity!
Holy the supernatural extra brilliant intelligent kindness of the soul!

 

It was almost 30 minutes of voyeuristic poetry, vulgarity, profanity and some moments had me wincing at the blasphemous lines: “The world is holy! The soul is holy! The skin is holy! The nose is holy! The tongue and [insert hidden body parts].” It’s controversial but it drastically shifted the art form of poetry forever.

In his dedication Ginsberg states his and his friends books were published in Heaven. This irks me severely because he’s practically summoning Moloch in his poem…

I like The Beat Beneration because they were pure poetry and they had that enviable university-to-death friendship that I never got to have. I arrived at University and I don’t think anybody knew Burroughs/Kerouac/Ginsberg.  It seems romantic looking back and very literary though I’m sure if I was alive when they were I’d have ran off after the poetry reading as they drank their way into despair and havoc… It’s always hard to champion these Bohemians because they’re so flawed and there’s always a dark side to artists either they are drunkards/insert addiction of choice, had horrific upbringings/lives due to others cruelty or are just plain rotten because we are all sinners. But it’s the art, talent and image I’m shining a light to… Not them as individuals.