Poems that make you think of Trip and T'Pol

[Alelou]

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(I know it's not particularly TnT but parts of it really resonate for me.)

The Wedding Vow
by Sharon Olds

I did not stand at the altar, I stood
at the foot of the chancel steps, with my beloved,
and the minister stood on the top step
holding the open Bible. The church
was wood, painted ivory inside, no people-God's
stable perfectly cleaned. It was night,
spring-outside, a moat of mud,
and inside, from the rafters, flies
fell onto the open Bible, and the minister
tilted it and brushed them off. We stood
beside each other, crying slightly
with fear and awe. In truth, we had married
that first night, in bed, we had been
married by our bodies, but now we stood
in history-what our bodies had said,
mouth to mouth, we now said publicly,
gathered together, death. We stood
holding each other by the hand, yet I also
stood as if alone, for a moment,
just before the vow, though taken
years before, took. It was a vow
of the present and the future, and yet I felt it
to have some touch on the distant past
or the distant past on it, I felt
the silent, dry, crying ghost of my
parents' marriage there, somewhere
in the bright space-perhaps one of the
plummeting flies, bouncing slightly
as it hit forsaking all others, then was brushed
away. I felt as if I had come
to claim a promise-the sweetness I'd inferred
from their sourness; and at the same time that I had
come, congenitally unworthy, to beg.
And yet, I had been working toward this hour
all my life. And then it was time
to speak-he was offering me, no matter
what, his life. That is all I had to
do, that evening, to accept the gift
I had longed for-to say I had accepted it,
as if being asked if I breathe. Do I take?
I do. I take as he takes-we have been
practicing this. Do you bear this pleasure? I do.


"The Wedding Vow" by Sharon Olds from The Unswept Room. © Alfred A. Knopf, 2003.

[Asso]

Beautiful, Alelou! Really lovely.

[evcake]

And:
With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls;
For stony limits cannot hold love out,
And what love can do, that dares love attempt

Romeo and Juliet, of course

[Aquarius]

Beautiful poem, Alelou! And it truly resonates Trip and T'Pol. "Married by our bodies" indeed!

[Alelou]

Piano
by Patrick Phillips

Touched by your goodness, I am like
that grand piano we found one night on Willoughby
that someone had smashed and somehow
heaved through an open window.

And you might think by this I mean I'm broken
or abandoned, or unloved. Truth is, I don't
know exactly what I am, any more
than the wreckage in the alley knows
it's a piano, filling with trash and yellow leaves.

Maybe I'm all that's left of what I was.
But touching me, I know, you are the good
breeze blowing across its rusted strings.

What would you call that feeling when the wood,
even with its cracked harp, starts to sing?


"Piano" by Patrick Phillips, from Boy. © The University of Georgia Press, 2008. Reprinted with permission. The Writer's Almanac is produced by Prairie Home Productions and presented by American Public Media.

[Asso]

What would you call that feeling when the wood,
even with its cracked harp, starts to sing?

This is a capturing image.

[chris1138]

What would you call that feeling when the wood,
even with its cracked harp, starts to sing?

Huh?

[mwpm]

Are several different translation to the poem called

I Pray Another to Love You

Poem by Alexander Sergreyevich

these two I think of T'Pol... when she telling Trip to move on I think

I loved you; and perhaps I love you still,
The flame, perhaps, is not extinguished; yet
It burns so quietly within my soul,
No longer should you feel distressed by it.

Silently and hopelessly I loved you,
At times too jealous and at times too shy.
God grant you find another who will love you
As tenderly and truthfully as I.


or

I loved you once; perhaps I should exclaim,
My love still lingers deep within my core.
But I do not want to cause you any pain,
So grieve thee not for me a moment more.

Silently and hopelessly I loved you,
Tormented, I was too jealous and too shy.
May God provide another who will love you,
Just as gently and as fervently as I.


and theses translations for some reason I always think of Trip...in the Home eps

I loved you; even now I must confess,
Some embers of my love their fire retain;
But do not let it cause you more distress,
I do not want to sadden you again.
Hopeless and tonguetied, yet I loved you dearly
With pangs the jealous and the timid know;
So tenderly I love you, so sincerely,
I pray God grant another love you so.

or
I loved you once, nor can this heart be quiet;
For it would seem that love still lingers there;
But do not you be further troubled by it;
I would in no wise hurt you, oh, my dear.

I loved you without hope, a mute offender;
What jealous pangs, what shy despairs I knew!
A love as deep as this, as true, as tender,
God grant another may yet offer you.

[Alelou]

Ahhhhh ... yes, I can see why you chose these. Very nice.

[Aquarius]

I'm going to stretch this topic a bit to include song lyrics if that'd be okay. Kate Bush is one of my favorite artists, and in sorting out the events of "Terra Prime" and what they mean to Trip and T'Pol's future, this song keeps coming to mind:

THIS WOMAN'S WORK
Kate Bush

Pray God you can cope.
I stand outside this woman's work,
This woman's world.
Ooh, it's hard on the man,
Now his part is over.
Now starts the craft of the father.

I know you have a little life in you yet.
I know you have a lot of strength left.
I know you have a little life in you yet.
I know you have a lot of strength left.

I should be crying, but I just can't let it show.
I should be hoping, but I can't stop thinking

Of all the things I should've said,
That I never said.
All the things we should've done,
Though we never did.
All the things I should've given,
But I didn't.

Oh, darling, make it go,
Make it go away.

Give me these moments back.
Give them back to me.
Give me that little kiss.
Give me your hand.

(I know you have a little life in you yet.
I know you have a lot of strength left.
I know you have a little life in you yet.
I know you have a lot of strength left.)

I should be crying, but I just can't let it show.
I should be hoping, but I can't stop thinking

Of all the things we should've said,
That we never said.
All the things we should've done,
Though we never did.
All the things that you needed from me.
All the things that you wanted for me.
All the things that I should've given,
But I didn't.

Oh, darling, make it go away.
Just make it go away now.

[Alelou]

Yeah, that would work. <<sob>>

[enterprikayak]

Thought about doing this song to a video:

How do you cool your lips
After a summer’s kiss
How do you rid the sweat
After the body bliss
How do you turn your eyes
From the romantic glare
How do you block the sound
Of a voice you’d know anywhere

Oh, I really should have known
By the time you drove me home
By the vagueness in your eyes
Your casual good-byes
By the chill in your embrace
The expression on your face
That told me
Maybe You might have some advice to give
On how to be
Insensitive
Insensitive
Insensitive

How do you numb your skin
After the warmest touch
How do you slow your blood
After the body rush
How do you free your soul
After you’ve found a friend
How do you teach your heart
It’s a crime to fall in love again

Oh, you probably won’t remember me
It’s probably ancient history
I’m one of the chosen few
Who went ahead and fell for you
I’m out of hope, I’m out of touch
I fell too fast, I feel too much
I thought that you might have
Some advice to give on how to be
Insensitive
I really should have known
By the time you drove me home
By the vagueness in your eyes
Your casual good-byes
By the chill in your embrace
The expression on your face
That told me
Maybe You might have some advice to give
On how to be
Insensitive
Insensitive
Insensitive

[Aquarius]

Oh, that's a good one!

[Alelou]

Wah! And people say I'm too angsty!

Curious to hear the song that goes with those lyrics, though.

[Alelou]

Okay, believe that Trip and T'Pol are retired from Starfleet and living in a cold place on Earth and T'Pol has given up on chamomile tea because she's realized she likes coffee better and maybe this will remind you of them. Or maybe I just like the poem.

Zero
by George Bilgere

First it was five above, then two,
then one morning just plain zero.
There was a strange thrill in saying it.
It's zero,
I said when you got up.

I was pouring your coffee
and suddenly the whole house made sense:
the roof, the walls, the little heat registers
rattling on the floor. Even the mortgage. Zero,
you said, still in your robe.

And you walked to the window and looked out
at the blanket of snow on the garden
where last summer you planted carrots
and radishes, sweet peas and onions,
and a tiny rainforest of tomatoes
in the hot delirium of June.

Yes, I said, with a certain grim finality,
staring at the white cap of snow on the barbecue grill
I'd neglected to put in the garage for winter.
And the radio says it could go lower.

I like that robe, it's white and shimmery,
and has a habit of falling open
unless you tie it just right.

This wasn't the barbarians at the gate.
It wasn't Carthage in flames, or even
the Donner Party. But it was zero, by God,
and the robe fell open.


"Zero" by George Bilgere. Reprinted with permission.

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