When I am asked
how I began writing poems,
I talk about the indifference of nature.
how I began writing poems,
I talk about the indifference of nature.
It was soon after my mother died,
a brilliant June day,
everything blooming.
a brilliant June day,
everything blooming.
I sat on a gray stone bench
in a lovingly planted garden,
but the lilies were as deaf
as the ears of drunken sleepers
and the roses curved inward.
Nothing was black or broken
and not a leave fell
and the sun blared endless commercials
for summer holidays.
in a lovingly planted garden,
but the lilies were as deaf
as the ears of drunken sleepers
and the roses curved inward.
Nothing was black or broken
and not a leave fell
and the sun blared endless commercials
for summer holidays.
I sat on a gray stone bench
ringed with ingenue faces
of pink and white impatiens
and placed my grief
on the mouth of language,
the only thing that would grieve with me.
ringed with ingenue faces
of pink and white impatiens
and placed my grief
on the mouth of language,
the only thing that would grieve with me.
-When I Am Asked; Lisel Mueller
last night Charlotte got me re-hooked on Jesse McCartney's version of Bleeding Love. and David Cook's cover of Always Be My Baby. yes, over the phone. made my night since I love these songs, and I like these covers better than the originals.
so do listen :)
![](http://img26.imageshack.us/img26/6718/111pn.png")