Patrick Mooney
@patrickbmooney.bsky.social
the hurt is not enough:
I long for weight and strength
to feel the earth as rough
to all my length.
I long for weight and strength
to feel the earth as rough
to all my length.
April 24, 2025 at 9:02 AM
the hurt is not enough:
I long for weight and strength
to feel the earth as rough
to all my length.
I long for weight and strength
to feel the earth as rough
to all my length.
Now no joy but lacks salt,
that is not dashed with pain
and weariness and fault;
I crave the stain
of tears, the aftermark
of almost too much love,
the sweet of bitter bark
and burning clove.
When stiff and sore and scarred
I take away my hand
from leaning on it hard
in grass or sand,
that is not dashed with pain
and weariness and fault;
I crave the stain
of tears, the aftermark
of almost too much love,
the sweet of bitter bark
and burning clove.
When stiff and sore and scarred
I take away my hand
from leaning on it hard
in grass or sand,
April 24, 2025 at 9:02 AM
Now no joy but lacks salt,
that is not dashed with pain
and weariness and fault;
I crave the stain
of tears, the aftermark
of almost too much love,
the sweet of bitter bark
and burning clove.
When stiff and sore and scarred
I take away my hand
from leaning on it hard
in grass or sand,
that is not dashed with pain
and weariness and fault;
I crave the stain
of tears, the aftermark
of almost too much love,
the sweet of bitter bark
and burning clove.
When stiff and sore and scarred
I take away my hand
from leaning on it hard
in grass or sand,
I had the swirl and ache
from sprays of honeysuckle
that when they’re gathered shake
dew on the knuckle.
I craved strong sweets, but those
seemed strong when I was young:
the petal of the rose
it was that stung.
from sprays of honeysuckle
that when they’re gathered shake
dew on the knuckle.
I craved strong sweets, but those
seemed strong when I was young:
the petal of the rose
it was that stung.
April 24, 2025 at 9:02 AM
I had the swirl and ache
from sprays of honeysuckle
that when they’re gathered shake
dew on the knuckle.
I craved strong sweets, but those
seemed strong when I was young:
the petal of the rose
it was that stung.
from sprays of honeysuckle
that when they’re gathered shake
dew on the knuckle.
I craved strong sweets, but those
seemed strong when I was young:
the petal of the rose
it was that stung.
Robert Frost: "To Earthward"
Love at the lips was touch
as sweet as I could bear;
and once that seemed too much;
I lived on air
that crossed me from sweet things,
the flow of — was it musk
from hidden grapevine springs
downhill at dusk?
Love at the lips was touch
as sweet as I could bear;
and once that seemed too much;
I lived on air
that crossed me from sweet things,
the flow of — was it musk
from hidden grapevine springs
downhill at dusk?
April 24, 2025 at 9:02 AM
Robert Frost: "To Earthward"
Love at the lips was touch
as sweet as I could bear;
and once that seemed too much;
I lived on air
that crossed me from sweet things,
the flow of — was it musk
from hidden grapevine springs
downhill at dusk?
Love at the lips was touch
as sweet as I could bear;
and once that seemed too much;
I lived on air
that crossed me from sweet things,
the flow of — was it musk
from hidden grapevine springs
downhill at dusk?
—O Tibbie, I hae seen the day,
ye wadna been sae shy;
for laik o’ gear ye lightly me,
but, trowth, I care na by.
ye wadna been sae shy;
for laik o’ gear ye lightly me,
but, trowth, I care na by.
April 24, 2025 at 8:52 AM
—O Tibbie, I hae seen the day,
ye wadna been sae shy;
for laik o’ gear ye lightly me,
but, trowth, I care na by.
ye wadna been sae shy;
for laik o’ gear ye lightly me,
but, trowth, I care na by.
—O Tibbie, I hae seen the day,
ye wadna been sae shy;
for laik o’ gear ye lightly me,
but, trowth, I care na by.
There lives a lass beside yon park,
i’d rather hae her in her sark,
than you wi’ a’ your thousand mark;
that gars you look sae high.
ye wadna been sae shy;
for laik o’ gear ye lightly me,
but, trowth, I care na by.
There lives a lass beside yon park,
i’d rather hae her in her sark,
than you wi’ a’ your thousand mark;
that gars you look sae high.
April 24, 2025 at 8:52 AM
—O Tibbie, I hae seen the day,
ye wadna been sae shy;
for laik o’ gear ye lightly me,
but, trowth, I care na by.
There lives a lass beside yon park,
i’d rather hae her in her sark,
than you wi’ a’ your thousand mark;
that gars you look sae high.
ye wadna been sae shy;
for laik o’ gear ye lightly me,
but, trowth, I care na by.
There lives a lass beside yon park,
i’d rather hae her in her sark,
than you wi’ a’ your thousand mark;
that gars you look sae high.
—O Tibbie, I hae seen the day,
ye wadna been sae shy;
for laik o’ gear ye lightly me,
but, trowth, I care na by.
But, Tibbie, lass, tak’ my advice:
your daddie’s gear maks you sae nice;
the deil a ane wad speir your price,
were ye as poor as I.
ye wadna been sae shy;
for laik o’ gear ye lightly me,
but, trowth, I care na by.
But, Tibbie, lass, tak’ my advice:
your daddie’s gear maks you sae nice;
the deil a ane wad speir your price,
were ye as poor as I.
April 24, 2025 at 8:52 AM
—O Tibbie, I hae seen the day,
ye wadna been sae shy;
for laik o’ gear ye lightly me,
but, trowth, I care na by.
But, Tibbie, lass, tak’ my advice:
your daddie’s gear maks you sae nice;
the deil a ane wad speir your price,
were ye as poor as I.
ye wadna been sae shy;
for laik o’ gear ye lightly me,
but, trowth, I care na by.
But, Tibbie, lass, tak’ my advice:
your daddie’s gear maks you sae nice;
the deil a ane wad speir your price,
were ye as poor as I.
—O Tibbie, I hae seen the day,
ye wadna been sae shy;
for laik o’ gear ye lightly me,
but, trowth, I care na by.
But, if he hae the name o’ gear,
ye’ll fasten to him like a brier,
tho’ hardly he, for sense or lear,
be better than the kye.
ye wadna been sae shy;
for laik o’ gear ye lightly me,
but, trowth, I care na by.
But, if he hae the name o’ gear,
ye’ll fasten to him like a brier,
tho’ hardly he, for sense or lear,
be better than the kye.
April 24, 2025 at 8:52 AM
—O Tibbie, I hae seen the day,
ye wadna been sae shy;
for laik o’ gear ye lightly me,
but, trowth, I care na by.
But, if he hae the name o’ gear,
ye’ll fasten to him like a brier,
tho’ hardly he, for sense or lear,
be better than the kye.
ye wadna been sae shy;
for laik o’ gear ye lightly me,
but, trowth, I care na by.
But, if he hae the name o’ gear,
ye’ll fasten to him like a brier,
tho’ hardly he, for sense or lear,
be better than the kye.
—O Tibbie, I hae seen the day,
ye wadna been sae shy;
for laik o’ gear ye lightly me,
but, trowth, I care na by.
Altho’ a lad were e’er sae smart,
if that he want the yellow dirt,
ye’ll cast your head anither airt,
and answer him fu’ dry.
ye wadna been sae shy;
for laik o’ gear ye lightly me,
but, trowth, I care na by.
Altho’ a lad were e’er sae smart,
if that he want the yellow dirt,
ye’ll cast your head anither airt,
and answer him fu’ dry.
April 24, 2025 at 8:52 AM
—O Tibbie, I hae seen the day,
ye wadna been sae shy;
for laik o’ gear ye lightly me,
but, trowth, I care na by.
Altho’ a lad were e’er sae smart,
if that he want the yellow dirt,
ye’ll cast your head anither airt,
and answer him fu’ dry.
ye wadna been sae shy;
for laik o’ gear ye lightly me,
but, trowth, I care na by.
Altho’ a lad were e’er sae smart,
if that he want the yellow dirt,
ye’ll cast your head anither airt,
and answer him fu’ dry.
—O Tibbie, I hae seen the day,
ye wadna been sae shy;
for laik o’ gear ye lightly me,
but, trowth, I care na by.
But sorrow tak’ him that’s sae mean,
altho’ his pouch o’ coin were clean,
wha follows ony saucy quean,
that looks sae proud and high.
ye wadna been sae shy;
for laik o’ gear ye lightly me,
but, trowth, I care na by.
But sorrow tak’ him that’s sae mean,
altho’ his pouch o’ coin were clean,
wha follows ony saucy quean,
that looks sae proud and high.
April 24, 2025 at 8:52 AM
—O Tibbie, I hae seen the day,
ye wadna been sae shy;
for laik o’ gear ye lightly me,
but, trowth, I care na by.
But sorrow tak’ him that’s sae mean,
altho’ his pouch o’ coin were clean,
wha follows ony saucy quean,
that looks sae proud and high.
ye wadna been sae shy;
for laik o’ gear ye lightly me,
but, trowth, I care na by.
But sorrow tak’ him that’s sae mean,
altho’ his pouch o’ coin were clean,
wha follows ony saucy quean,
that looks sae proud and high.
—O Tibbie, I hae seen the day,
ye wadna been sae shy;
for laik o’ gear ye lightly me,
but, trowth, I care na by.
I doubt na, lass, but ye may think,
because ye hae the name o’ clink,
that ye can please me at a wink,
whene’er ye like to try.
ye wadna been sae shy;
for laik o’ gear ye lightly me,
but, trowth, I care na by.
I doubt na, lass, but ye may think,
because ye hae the name o’ clink,
that ye can please me at a wink,
whene’er ye like to try.
April 24, 2025 at 8:52 AM
—O Tibbie, I hae seen the day,
ye wadna been sae shy;
for laik o’ gear ye lightly me,
but, trowth, I care na by.
I doubt na, lass, but ye may think,
because ye hae the name o’ clink,
that ye can please me at a wink,
whene’er ye like to try.
ye wadna been sae shy;
for laik o’ gear ye lightly me,
but, trowth, I care na by.
I doubt na, lass, but ye may think,
because ye hae the name o’ clink,
that ye can please me at a wink,
whene’er ye like to try.
—O Tibbie, I hae seen the day,
ye wadna been sae shy;
for laik o’ gear ye lightly me,
but, trowth, I care na by.
When coming hame on Sunday last,
upon the road as I cam past,
ye snufft and ga’e your head a cast—
but trowth I care’t na by.
ye wadna been sae shy;
for laik o’ gear ye lightly me,
but, trowth, I care na by.
When coming hame on Sunday last,
upon the road as I cam past,
ye snufft and ga’e your head a cast—
but trowth I care’t na by.
April 24, 2025 at 8:52 AM
—O Tibbie, I hae seen the day,
ye wadna been sae shy;
for laik o’ gear ye lightly me,
but, trowth, I care na by.
When coming hame on Sunday last,
upon the road as I cam past,
ye snufft and ga’e your head a cast—
but trowth I care’t na by.
ye wadna been sae shy;
for laik o’ gear ye lightly me,
but, trowth, I care na by.
When coming hame on Sunday last,
upon the road as I cam past,
ye snufft and ga’e your head a cast—
but trowth I care’t na by.
Robert Burns: "Song—O Tibbie I hae seen the day"
—O Tibbie, I hae seen the day,
ye wadna been sae shy;
for laik o’ gear ye lightly me,
but, trowth, I care na by.
Yesteeen I met you on the moor,
ye spak na, but gaed by like stour;
ye geck at me because I’m poor,
but fient a hair care I.
—O Tibbie, I hae seen the day,
ye wadna been sae shy;
for laik o’ gear ye lightly me,
but, trowth, I care na by.
Yesteeen I met you on the moor,
ye spak na, but gaed by like stour;
ye geck at me because I’m poor,
but fient a hair care I.
April 24, 2025 at 8:52 AM
Robert Burns: "Song—O Tibbie I hae seen the day"
—O Tibbie, I hae seen the day,
ye wadna been sae shy;
for laik o’ gear ye lightly me,
but, trowth, I care na by.
Yesteeen I met you on the moor,
ye spak na, but gaed by like stour;
ye geck at me because I’m poor,
but fient a hair care I.
—O Tibbie, I hae seen the day,
ye wadna been sae shy;
for laik o’ gear ye lightly me,
but, trowth, I care na by.
Yesteeen I met you on the moor,
ye spak na, but gaed by like stour;
ye geck at me because I’m poor,
but fient a hair care I.
William Shakespeare: Sonnet 123
April 24, 2025 at 8:42 AM
William Shakespeare: Sonnet 123
Sir Philip Sidney: Astrophel and Stella 033
April 24, 2025 at 8:32 AM
Sir Philip Sidney: Astrophel and Stella 033
And the coolness of your smile is
stirringofbirds between my arms;but
i should rather than anything
have(almost when hugeness will shut
quietly)almost,
your kiss
stirringofbirds between my arms;but
i should rather than anything
have(almost when hugeness will shut
quietly)almost,
your kiss
April 24, 2025 at 8:22 AM
And the coolness of your smile is
stirringofbirds between my arms;but
i should rather than anything
have(almost when hugeness will shut
quietly)almost,
your kiss
stirringofbirds between my arms;but
i should rather than anything
have(almost when hugeness will shut
quietly)almost,
your kiss
deeds of green thrilling light
with thinned
newfragile yellows
lurch and.press
—in the woods
which
stutter
and
sing
with thinned
newfragile yellows
lurch and.press
—in the woods
which
stutter
and
sing
April 24, 2025 at 8:22 AM
deeds of green thrilling light
with thinned
newfragile yellows
lurch and.press
—in the woods
which
stutter
and
sing
with thinned
newfragile yellows
lurch and.press
—in the woods
which
stutter
and
sing
e.e. cummings: "i have found what you are like"
i have found what you are like
the rain,
(Who feathers frightened fields
with the superior dust-of-sleep. wields
easily the pale club of the wind
and swirled justly souls of flower strike
the air in utterable coolness
i have found what you are like
the rain,
(Who feathers frightened fields
with the superior dust-of-sleep. wields
easily the pale club of the wind
and swirled justly souls of flower strike
the air in utterable coolness
April 24, 2025 at 8:22 AM
e.e. cummings: "i have found what you are like"
i have found what you are like
the rain,
(Who feathers frightened fields
with the superior dust-of-sleep. wields
easily the pale club of the wind
and swirled justly souls of flower strike
the air in utterable coolness
i have found what you are like
the rain,
(Who feathers frightened fields
with the superior dust-of-sleep. wields
easily the pale club of the wind
and swirled justly souls of flower strike
the air in utterable coolness
George Meredith: "Modern Love" 04
April 24, 2025 at 8:12 AM
George Meredith: "Modern Love" 04
Robert Herrick: "Upon Love. (VI)"
April 24, 2025 at 8:02 AM
Robert Herrick: "Upon Love. (VI)"
George Darley: "The Mermaidens' Vesper Hymn"
April 24, 2025 at 7:52 AM
George Darley: "The Mermaidens' Vesper Hymn"
George Gordon, Lord Byron: "Don Juan: Canto 15"
April 24, 2025 at 7:42 AM
George Gordon, Lord Byron: "Don Juan: Canto 15"
and I saw it filled with graves,
and tomb-stones where flowers should be:
and Priests in black gowns, were walking their rounds,
and binding with briars, my joys & desires.
and tomb-stones where flowers should be:
and Priests in black gowns, were walking their rounds,
and binding with briars, my joys & desires.
April 24, 2025 at 7:32 AM
and I saw it filled with graves,
and tomb-stones where flowers should be:
and Priests in black gowns, were walking their rounds,
and binding with briars, my joys & desires.
and tomb-stones where flowers should be:
and Priests in black gowns, were walking their rounds,
and binding with briars, my joys & desires.
And the gates of this Chapel were shut,
and “Thou Shalt Not”, writ over the door;
so I turn’d to the Garden of Love,
that so many sweet flowers bore,
and “Thou Shalt Not”, writ over the door;
so I turn’d to the Garden of Love,
that so many sweet flowers bore,
April 24, 2025 at 7:32 AM
And the gates of this Chapel were shut,
and “Thou Shalt Not”, writ over the door;
so I turn’d to the Garden of Love,
that so many sweet flowers bore,
and “Thou Shalt Not”, writ over the door;
so I turn’d to the Garden of Love,
that so many sweet flowers bore,