Do you see O my brothers and sisters?
Winds whose soft-tickling genitals rub against me it shall be you!
25 Dazzling and tremendous how quick the bi lesbisk møt sexy kvinne sun-rise would kill me, If I could not now and always send sun-rise out.(Only what proves itself to every man and woman is so, Only what nobody denies.) A minute and a drop of me settle my brain, I believe the soggy clods shall become lovers and lamps, And a compend of compends is the meat.I see something of God each hour of the twenty-four, and each moment then, In the faces of men and women I see God, and in my own face in the glass, I find letters from God dropt in the street, and every one.Back to top DayPoems Poem.
If our colors are struck and the fighting done?
Perhaps I might tell more.
Man or woman, I might tell how I like you, but cannot, And might tell what it is in me and what it is in you, but cannot, And might tell that pining I have, that pulse of my nights and days.
24 Walt Whitman, a kosmos, of Manhattan the son, Turbulent, fleshy, sensual, eating, drinking and breeding, No sentimentalist, no stander above men and women or apart from them, No more modest than immodest.They do not sweat and whine about their condition, They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins, They do not make me sick discussing their duty to God, Not one is dissatisfied, not one is demented with the mania.I do not know it-it is without name-it is a word unsaid, It is not in any dictionary, utterance, symbol.No shutter'd room or school can commune with me, But roughs and little children better than they.14 The wild gander leads his flock through the cool night, Ya-honk he says, and sounds it down to me like an invitation, The pert may suppose it meaningless, but I listening close, Find its purpose and place up there toward the wintry sky.I understand the large hearts of heroes, The courage of present times and all times, How the skipper saw the crowded and rudderless sex og dating blogg kosmopolitiske wreck of the steamship, and Death chasing it up and down the storm, How he knuckled tight and gave not back.I am the poet of the woman the same as the man, And I say it is as great to be a woman as to be a man, And I say there is nothing greater than the mother of men.I but use you a minute, then I resign you, stallion, Why do I need your paces when I myself out-gallop them?Behold, I do not give lectures or a little charity, When I give I give myself.50 There is that in me-I do not know what it is-but I know it is.
(This day I am jetting the stuff of far more arrogant republics.) To any one dying, thither I speed and twist the knob of the door.
Press close bare-bosom'd night-press close magnetic nourishing night!
One world is aware and by far the largest to me, and that is myself, And whether I come to my own to-day or in ten thousand or ten million years, I can cheerfully take it now, or with equal cheerfulness I can wait.