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"I know you've lost someone and it hurts. You may have lost them suddenly, unexpectedly. Or perhaps you began losing pieces of them until one day, there was nothing left. You may have known them all your life or you may have barely known them at all. Either way, it is irrelevant — you cannot control the depth of a wound another soul inflicts upon you.
Which is why I am not here to tell y
I wish she didn't use poems from her other books, it seemed a bit lazy. My favourite poem is by far this one:"I know you've lost someone and it hurts. You may have lost them suddenly, unexpectedly. Or perhaps you began losing pieces of them until one day, there was nothing left. You may have known them all your life or you may have barely known them at all. Either way, it is irrelevant — you cannot control the depth of a wound another soul inflicts upon you.
Which is why I am not here to tell you tomorrow is another day. That the sun will go on shining. Or there are plenty of fish in the sea. What I will tell you is this; it's okay to be hurting as much as you are. What you are feeling is not only completely valid but necessary — because it makes you so much more human. And though I can't promise it will get better any time soon, I can tell you that it will — eventually. For now, all you can do is take your time. Take all the time you need." - Broken Hearts, Lang Leav
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Still, I read this one before some of her other books and it sorta spoiled a bit of fun for me.
It's best not to reprint poems into repetitiveness.
Q:
Hope
One day you walk into a cafe and there he is. It's as simple as that. As easy as that. Then forever after, you spend your life, walking into cafes, hoping he'll magically appear. Like he did the first time. Or there would be someone else, just like him, sitting, with his head buried in a book. He would turn to look at you and i
Still, I read this one before some of her other books and it sorta spoiled a bit of fun for me.
It's best not to reprint poems into repetitiveness.
Q:
Hope
One day you walk into a cafe and there he is. It's as simple as that. As easy as that. Then forever after, you spend your life, walking into cafes, hoping he'll magically appear. Like he did the first time. Or there would be someone else, just like him, sitting, with his head buried in a book. He would turn to look at you and it would all begin again.
When love finds you, it doesn't come with crashing waves or thunderbolts. It appears as a song on the radio or a particular blue in the sky. It dawns on you slowly, like a warm winter sunrise—where the promise of summer shines out from within.
We number our days and divide our seasons. We endlessly define what it is to be in love. When in truth, spring blurs into summer and always has, long before that line was ever drawn. Your love for him is the same—it runs wild and free. Like the air around you, it stretches all across the world, it does not leave a single thing untouched. You carry that love with you, like a bright and blazing beacon, a straight line from your heart to his. And it keeps alive that aching, throbbing hope, that somewhere in the world, there is a cafe and within those walls, he is there, hoping just as much as you. (c)
Q:
Stardust
If you came to me with a face I have not seen, with a voice I have never heard, I would still know you. Even if centuries separated us, I would still feel you. Somewhere between the sand and the stardust, through every collapse and creation, there is a pulse that echoes of you and I.
When we leave this world, we give up all our possessions and our memories. Love is the only thing we take with us. It is all we carry from one life to the next. (c)
Q:
I am hopelessly in love with a memory. An echo from another time, another place. —Michael Faudet (c)
Q:
Someone else's ring tone, someone else's song, someone else's words, someone else's broken heart. These are the things we inherit by choice or by chance. (c)
Q:
A Writer's Muse
One day he will find you. He will touch you and you will feel a lifetime of indifference—of apathy melt away in a single moment. And you will ache for him. You will love him, in the way you walk a tightrope—in the way people learn to fall asleep in a war zone. (с)
Q:
The Stranger
Does it make you crazy? To think he saw you—his eyes passed over you and if only there had been some small mishap in that pivotal moment. A spilled drink, a stumble through the door—his hand reaching out to steady you and it would have happened. A whole new world would have opened up like a vortex to swallow you both into blissful delirium. But you turned away, out of shyness or indecision and by the time you turned back, he was gone.
How do you explain it without sounding unsound? That click you felt when your eyes met his, like the switch of a train track, transporting you for one miraculous moment, to what might have been.
Then reality intervenes and with a shake of your head, you tell yourself to stop chasing shadows. But I can tell you now—what you felt was real—and you must always listen to that click. For it is the sound of your fate beckoning. It is the voice of your destiny calling. Sometimes it only calls once. (c)
Q:
After the Storm
There are storms that change the skyline, that leave patches of blue where branches had once spread their brittle fingers. And in the aftermath, an eerie calm settles over the forest, as shell-shocked birds sing warily in the sunlight. The nervous flutter of their injured wings, barely audible above the hammering of a hummingbird's heart.
You once told me the wind is silent. How his sound can only be heard through collision. (c)
Q:
I was always meant for you. With my tennis shoes and wild hair, ... Even then. ...
You said I was like a bird of prey, caged by my captors and made to sing love songs to the sky. You said my sadness was like the sun, beautiful from a distance but it hurt you too much to come closer. ...(c)
Q:
Take me someplace where I can feel something—I want to give away my heart. Tell me his name so I can know love when it speaks to me. Give me someone I can write about. (c)
Q:
I was ready to give it all up—everything. I was half out of my mind with love. And I didn't think twice about what I was throwing into the fire, as long as I could keep it burning for just another minute—if only I was allowed to sit awhile longer beside its pale glow. (c)
Q:
Faith
I whisper your name like a prayer—with all the hope of heaven.
I trace the lines of your palm and draw a map to salvation.
I hear the knock of your heart and I answer it like my calling. (c)
Q:
Do you think of what could have been? ...
Do you think of me in cars? When every turn you take is driving us further apart. Does every road sign pleading you to take care, remind you of how much I want you, how deeply you are loved?
I think of you on roads that stretch into the horizon. On roundabouts and signs that keep telling me I am going in the wrong direction. I hope you think of me as much as I think of you. I hope that every step will bring you closer, that every dead end is a messenger, willing you to turn back around, reminding you it's time to come home. (c)
Q:
You showed me insanity, as you promised you would. Like an open window, seven storeys high. And it was just as terrible and as beautiful as you and I.
And you said ecstasy was a storm cloud, just before the rain would burst into the night sky, like a thousand aquatic stars—and not one single moment before. And you were right. You were right about it all. (c)
Q:
Soul Mates
I don't know how you are so familiar to me—or why it feels less like I am getting to know you and more as though I am remembering who you are. How every smile, every whisper brings me closer to the impossible conclusion that I have known you before, I have loved you before—in another time, a different place—some other existence.
The Most
You may not know
the reason why,
for a time
I wasn't I.
There was a man
who came and went,
on him every breath
was spent.
I'm sorry I forgot
all else—
it was the most
I ever felt.? (c)
Q:
Amends
I wonder if there will be a morning when you'll wake up missing me. That some incident in your life would have finally taught you the value of my worth. And you will feel a surge of longing, when you remember how I was good to you.
When this day comes I hope you will look for me. I hope you will look with the kind of conviction I'd always hoped for, but never had from you. Because I want to be found. And I hope it will be you—who finds me.
(c)
![[Shai] Bibliophage](https://images.gr-assets.com/users/1517936499p2/11854153.jpg)
These are the 6 poems/prose that I like in this book:
Virtual Love
A Writer's Plea
Take me someplace where I can feel something—I want to give away my heart. Tell me his name so I can know love when it speaks to me. Give me someone I can write about.
Dear Love
In Love
You'v
I've got to enjoyed only 6 out of the 35 new poems/prose in this 3rd book of Lang Leav. I was anticipating that this could be better than her 2nd book, Lullabies. But I was quite disappointed that it didn't meet my expectations.These are the 6 poems/prose that I like in this book:
Virtual Love
A Writer's Plea
Take me someplace where I can feel something—I want to give away my heart. Tell me his name so I can know love when it speaks to me. Give me someone I can write about.
Dear Love
In Love
You've not yet had your heart in halves,
so little do you know of love—
to tell me I will soon forget,
there will be others to regret.
Now all the years have proved you wrong,
my love for him burns bright and strong;
you can't divide the stars from night—
from love there can be no respite.
Hope
The Saddest Thing
I feel this would work for teens, and for those who are not well acquainted with Poetry.
There was a time when I genuinely enjoyed Lang leav's work. But that was a long time ago before I invested the time to read actual poetry.I feel this would work for teens, and for those who are not well acquainted with Poetry.
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I am seriously going to change my vote in poetry section. This book deserves every vote a person can give. This, this
Never had any Poetry book hit me harder than this one did. Seriously there were some times when I found myself gasping on some poetries. It felt like the author has taken some thoughts from my mind and presented it to me on pages to read and to know what it felt like. This book was just something beautiful. I seriously lack words to define this, to just tell you guys to read it.I am seriously going to change my vote in poetry section. This book deserves every vote a person can give. This, this was something else, something pure and raw. It will break your heart by the sheer amount of truth in the word and sometimes it will make your eyes watery just by portraying some feeling which you have yet to feel but just felt it right there on the pages.
I have never known the tourer words till I read this poetry book. I have always think Poetry has as a verse to portray a feeling in a rhythmic form. Never have I known Poetry has a way to bleed your heart on a page, never have I thought poetry has a way to open your wound again and again just to write the words on the pages. This book changed my way of seeing this genre. I seriously can consider it as one of my fav genre.
I WISH TO NEVER BE POET BECAUSE A POET BLEED AND WRITE THE HEARTACHE THEY HAVE FELT. AND I FOR MYSELF DON'T WANT TO BLEED AND BLEED AND BLEED JUST TO BECAME IMMORTAL AND BE IN PAGES WHERE I HAVE BLEED MY SOUL, again and again and again !!
WOUNDED;
A bruise is tender
But does not last.
It leaves me as
I always was.
But a wound I take
Much more to heart,
For a scar will always
Leave its mark.
And if you should ask
Which one you are,
My answer is-
You are a scar.
it happens like this. One day you meet someone and for some inexplicable reason, you feel more connected to this stranger than anyone else—closer to them than your closest family. Perhaps because this person carries an angel within them—one sent to you for some higher purpose, to teach you an important lesson or to keep you safe during a perilous time. What you must do is trust in them—even if they come hand in hand with pain or suffering—the reason for their presence will become clear in due time.
Though here is a word of warning—you may grow to love this person but remember they are not yours to keep. Their purpose isn't to save you but to show you how to save yourself. And once this is fulfilled, the halo lifts and the angel leaves their body as the person exits your life. They will be a stranger to you once more.
..................................
it's so dark right now, I can't see any light around me.
That's because the light is coming from you. You can't see it but everyone else can.
He and I,
When words run dry,
He does not try,
Nor do I,
We are on par.
He just is,
I just am,
We just are.
That's basically what I did today. I read this while standing and getting a leg cramp in the bookstore.
As usually, I love Lang Leav's poems and prose and this was no exception. My only problem was that she brought in poems from her other books. I felt like that was unnecessary. Why not just leave it as
I like to think that bookstores are the easiest to steal from. You can walk into a bookstore, pick up a book, read it all, put it back on the shelf, walk out and you're done. You've stolen a book.That's basically what I did today. I read this while standing and getting a leg cramp in the bookstore.
As usually, I love Lang Leav's poems and prose and this was no exception. My only problem was that she brought in poems from her other books. I felt like that was unnecessary. Why not just leave it as a book of new poems? Anyway, I still love her. Her writing is beautiful.
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I am very sad about the fact that 1 star is the lowest rating you can give on Goodreads, because if it were up to me, I would've given this a -5 stars.
This was, BY FAR, the Worst.Book.I.Have.Ever.Read.
SO BAD. SO PAINFULLY BAD. AWFUL IN EVERY SENSE OF THE WORD.
It pains me that people dare to call this poetry. The fact that some people give it 5 stars even, makes me question the little faith I have left in humanity.
The quality of this reminds me of
OH MY GOD I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S FINALLY OVER. I am very sad about the fact that 1 star is the lowest rating you can give on Goodreads, because if it were up to me, I would've given this a -5 stars.
This was, BY FAR, the Worst.Book.I.Have.Ever.Read.
SO BAD. SO PAINFULLY BAD. AWFUL IN EVERY SENSE OF THE WORD.
It pains me that people dare to call this poetry. The fact that some people give it 5 stars even, makes me question the little faith I have left in humanity.
The quality of this reminds me of 2009 Facebook posts that I used to see on pages entitled Teen@g3 DreamZ , or something along those lines. You know, those posts that would have an emo couple holding hands as a background.
Let me give you some examples of this so called "poetry" so you'd get a sense of what I'm talking about.
"Sometimes we want
what we couldn't-
sometimes we love
who we could."
"He just is,
I just am,
We just are."
YEAH. NO SHIT.
"I see you now with someone new,
I stare,
I stare,
I blink.
Someday I'll be over you,
I know,
I know-
I think."
"If I wrote it in a book,
Could I shelve it?
If I told you of what you took,
would that help it?
If I will it,
can I un-feel it,
now I've felt it? "
WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?
What kills me most, like even more than all this, is that she casually mentions Sylvia and Anne in the text, talking about them as if they were her buddies. LIKE HOW FUCKING DARE YOU SPEAK THEIR NAMES YOU IGNORANT SLUG.
Even if I were to completely ignore the non-poetry poetry and the non-existent context and the terrible writing and grammar, the way this person (whom I dare not call a poet) addresses the topic of love is just so demeaning. She is obsessed with idea of fairytale-like love and a prince charming. She is completely assigning her value according to the person she is with. It's incredibly sad and I genuinely think that she needs help in realizing her own worth (and steering clear of poetry while doing so).
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I guess I love Lang Leav's poetry, I suppose I'd love her other books as well.
Here are some of my most favourite poems of the book :
I know you have seen things you wish you hadn't. You have done things you wish you could take
back. And you wonder why you were thrown into the thick of it all—why you had to suffer th
I guess I love Lang Leav's poetry, I suppose I'd love her other books as well.
Here are some of my most favourite poems of the book :
I know you have seen things you wish you hadn't. You have done things you wish you could take
back. And you wonder why you were thrown into the thick of it all—why you had to suffer the
way you did. And as you are sitting there alone and hurting, I wish I could put a pen in your hand
and gently remind you how the world has given you poetry and now you must give it back.
*****
One day he will find you. He will touch you and you will feel a lifetime of indifference—of apathy
melt away in a single moment. And you will ache for him. You will love him, in the way you walk a
tightrope—in the way people learn to fall asleep in a war zone. You will bleed for him until the
day he is gone. You will bleed for him every day after that. The time will pass and you will feel
robbed—and you will grow bitter. You will ask why, but you won't get an answer. And that is
when the words will come.
*****
She lends her pen,
to thoughts of him,
that flow from it,
in her solitary.
For she is his poet,
And he is her poetry.
*****
You were like a dream,
I wish I hadn't
slept through.
Within it I fell deeper,
than your heart would
care to let you.
I thought you were a keeper,
I wish I could
have kept you.
why would she rewrite the same thing! it annoyed me! i didn't know that it was a collection of previously published poems! it felt like a reread and to be honest I think this was just a way for her to make money when she was too tired to write a whole new book! I hate it when writers do that! Memories is a selection of poetry from her 2 previous books, lullabies and love and misadventure with a few new poms
why would she rewrite the same thing! it annoyed me! i didn't know that it was a collection of previously published poems! it felt like a reread and to be honest I think this was just a way for her to make money when she was too tired to write a whole new book! I hate it when writers do that! ...more
"I do know there are all kind of barriers to love. I do believe the world needs less of them."
I've been thinking a lot about the rating of this book since I finished it. Now I have it more clear in my head.
To explain myself more properly I'm going to quote the author from the introduction of the book.
"Memories is a collection of poetry and prose, hand selected from my two previous books, Love & Misadventure and Lullabies. It also features some new writing I have completed over the last year."
Man
"I do know there are all kind of barriers to love. I do believe the world needs less of them."
I've been thinking a lot about the rating of this book since I finished it. Now I have it more clear in my head.
To explain myself more properly I'm going to quote the author from the introduction of the book.
"Memories is a collection of poetry and prose, hand selected from my two previous books, Love & Misadventure and Lullabies. It also features some new writing I have completed over the last year."
Many people have complained because this book is technically the result of the two other books by the author, but I don't know if they noticed that Memories is a special edition that the author published collecting poems from her other books. She even said it in the introduction. The book's only available in hardcover -not paperback as the other author's works- because it's a special edition.
From that point of view, I loved this book. Yes, at the beginning I had issues because there were the same poems from her last books, but they were the best ones. Lang Leav did a great work selecting the best of the best. And I couldn't be happier she did.
From the poems to the prose, Lang Leav is an incredible poet and I'll be reading anything she writes.
If you haven't read anything by the author, I'd recommend to start with this book because, in my opinion, is her best work so far. Even if it's a collection with some new poems, Leav gave the best she could and she succeeded. The poems here are so heartwarming and gets to the bottom of aching souls.
"When love finds you, it doesn't come with crashing waves or thunderbolts. It appears as a song on the radio or a particular blue in the sky. It dawns on you slowly, like a warm winter sunrise -where the promise of summer shines out from within."
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I read the book for about 30 minutes and left the bookstore filled with words and thoughts. Lang's words never fail to strike me. Feels like someone wrote a poetry for me of what I feel. Like when they ask me how do I feel? I would give them a copy of this book and tell them, read this and find out.
I was about to leave the bookstore when I saw a copy of Memories. Being a fan of Lang Leav, of course I really wanted to read her latest work but the book is kinda expensive.I read the book for about 30 minutes and left the bookstore filled with words and thoughts. Lang's words never fail to strike me. Feels like someone wrote a poetry for me of what I feel. Like when they ask me how do I feel? I would give them a copy of this book and tell them, read this and find out.
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I remember reading a previous work from Leav and really liking it. Her prose was a bit closer to the lyrical poetry I prefer while still being modern poetry. So, naturally, I came to memories with this idea in mind
"I have always thought of memories as fragments, like colored glass shards in a kaleidoscope. It is the source of great beauty in our lives, yet the cause of such heartache. It remains the bridge between our past and present – it gives weight and dimension to our very existence."I remember reading a previous work from Leav and really liking it. Her prose was a bit closer to the lyrical poetry I prefer while still being modern poetry. So, naturally, I came to memories with this idea in mind. It wasn't exactly what I got.
It still had some lyrical pieces, with their rhythm and simple beauty that move me by simply existing, but they were a clear minority.
Which was a disappointment, because, as I have already stated, I came looking for it precisely.
"The moment words found me, they burrowed themselves into my bones, they settled like dust in my lungs until I felt them every time I breathed in and out."
Then, I had a terrible day and managed to find comfort between these pages.
It reminded, starkly, that poetry is all about emotionally connecting to the words written by the author. To find some meaning in them and feel them deep inside you.
It did that. It gave me something I was looking for.
No. Not every poem was what I needed or what I was looking for, but there were a few that hit the mark square on.
"And as you are sitting there alone and hurting, I wish I could put a pen in your hand and gently remind you how the world has given you poetry and now you must give it back."
Leav's writing gives me something. Maybe not everything she writes, not every poem, but it does.
I can't say that I have branched out and read a lot of modern poetry or anything but I have read some and though the writing styles differ I've found that they talk of vastly the same topics. And I'm not saying that's bad just a little tiring maybe.
Leav branches out more.
Sure, she does speak of this "hot" topics but I've also found other themes.
"Or that one person whom you rarely speak with, who can always be found right there where you left them. You carry their smile with you like a talisman – for whatever reason, their presence in your life will always bring the promise of better days."
Even though disappointed, because in the end, it did not complete my expectations, I did enjoy reading this book. I don't regret it or anything.
I'm just wondering what truly is Leav's style. The first one I read or this one? and I suppose the only way to find out is by reading more of her works.
Which I don't see as a terrible thing to do.
"I am somebody else's story. The girl who served their drink, the person they pushed past on a crowded street, the one who broke their heart. I have happened in so many places, to so many people – the essence of me lives on in the nuances, these moments."
_______________________
I didn't go crazy over it but in the end, it wasn't all that bad.
It did help me out when I most needed it, so, there is that.
RTC.
_______________________
It's been a while since I read any poetry and I've been missing it dearly. So, when my tbr jar suggested me to read this one I jumped to the occasion.
Furthermore, I think this is the first book from Lang Leav that I ever encountered on GR and that makes me really excited! I really liked her style from the previous of her [Leav's] books I read and, therefore, I have great expectations regarding this one.
All that said, let's hope I can enjoy this.
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This rating was a really hard decision to make. Starting off the book, I was really enjoying it. I found it emotionally touching and the writing to be not too complex, but not simple enough to assume Lang just scattered a bunch of words on it and called it "poetry", either. Continuing the book however, I felt torn. All the poems started to blur together with the same message, of this tragic love, and the effect that I got on the first poems were just lost. Soon I grew a little bored, and only
3.5This rating was a really hard decision to make. Starting off the book, I was really enjoying it. I found it emotionally touching and the writing to be not too complex, but not simple enough to assume Lang just scattered a bunch of words on it and called it "poetry", either. Continuing the book however, I felt torn. All the poems started to blur together with the same message, of this tragic love, and the effect that I got on the first poems were just lost. Soon I grew a little bored, and only the few unique ones would stick out to me. My favorite poems were probably: Language, Rogue Planets, An Artist in Love, and Dead Poets. I wish I could have enjoyed this book more than I did, but I definitely didn't despise it. If you're a hopeless romantic, enjoy simple poetry, or a Milk and Honey fan, you'll definitely enjoy this book.
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Lang Leav has a way of writing that gives me collection of feelings that I hardly overcome. With every page I feel a new thing and remember a new story.
I loved the prose more than the poems.
A great collection. I was disappointed when I read that this book has only few new poems and the content is a mix from her first and second book since I read both of them multiple times. I only knew that after buying this book. But that doesn't belittle this book and the words inside it!
Lang Leav has a way of writing that gives me collection of feelings that I hardly overcome. With every page I feel a new thing and remember a new story.
I loved the prose more than the poems.
A great collection. ...more
Hope
. . . We number our days and divide our seasons. We endlessly define what it is to be in love. When in truth, spring blurs into summer and always has, long before that line was ever drawn. . .
Lang Leav still manages to linger in places I've forgotten or didn't know existed in parts of my life where they do, sort of like an old song I've never heard but with a familiar melancholic tune to it. there's a woe Leav writes that, in an odd bit of way, charms me. only thing i
Hope
. . . We number our days and divide our seasons. We endlessly define what it is to be in love. When in truth, spring blurs into summer and always has, long before that line was ever drawn. . .
Lang Leav still manages to linger in places I've forgotten or didn't know existed in parts of my life where they do, sort of like an old song I've never heard but with a familiar melancholic tune to it. there's a woe Leav writes that, in an odd bit of way, charms me. only thing is, this collection felt like a simple passing. the pieces were consistent, as expected of the poet, but with that, there was nothing especially outstanding. perhaps having some poems from other books contributed to that.
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Notable Pieces
The RoseHate to say this, but I'm disappointed... I absolutely love Lang Leav, but it's frustrating to realize that the majority of the poems in this book were from the first two books— Love & Misadventure and Lullabies. At least I still enjoyed some of the new pieces
A Writer's Muse
In the End
Reaching Out
Home
Sunday Best
Happiness
The Saddest Thing
The Night
Love
Collision
Reasons
Notable Pieces
The Rose...more
A Writer's Muse
In the End
Reaching Out
Home
Sunday Best
Happiness
The Saddest Thing
The Night
Love
Collision
Reasons
I thoroughly enjoyed this! I had zero expectations for it and just wanted to try out Lang Leav's work (as well as for a readathon prompt), and I wasn't disappointed! While I couldn't relate to some of the poems, others were so hard-hitting. Leav's whimsical writing scratched my itching for poetry and this is definitely not the last I'll read of hers. Don't be turned away by the Lang Leav jokes! There's a reason her books were popular less than a decade a ago and I think they're
Actual rating: 4.5I thoroughly enjoyed this! I had zero expectations for it and just wanted to try out Lang Leav's work (as well as for a readathon prompt), and I wasn't disappointed! While I couldn't relate to some of the poems, others were so hard-hitting. Leav's whimsical writing scratched my itching for poetry and this is definitely not the last I'll read of hers. Don't be turned away by the Lang Leav jokes! There's a reason her books were popular less than a decade a ago and I think they're worth a shot.
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"Life went on without him.
Of course , it did.
Of course, it does.
It was just an ending,
they tell me,
not the end."
Me and modern poetry, we don't quite understand each other. I tell it that writing some pseudo-aesthetical sentences doesn't qualify as poetry, it tries to prove me otherwise. But Lang Leav's "Memories" really pushes this idea to the next level. First she publishes the book with only some new content and half of her old poems; then it turns out that only the third of it is actual poetry. And don't even try to tell me it's "paragraph poetry": it's laziness. She coul
3rd book of my 24h read-a-thon!Me and modern poetry, we don't quite understand each other. I tell it that writing some pseudo-aesthetical sentences doesn't qualify as poetry, it tries to prove me otherwise. But Lang Leav's "Memories" really pushes this idea to the next level. First she publishes the book with only some new content and half of her old poems; then it turns out that only the third of it is actual poetry. And don't even try to tell me it's "paragraph poetry": it's laziness. She could've spent some time and written them in blank verse or something. But that's too complicated I guess.
I obviously didn't enjoy most of the "poems" in this book, but some of them are just disturbing. The best example is "The Professor" that ends with this genius quote: "She was different from anything he had ever known." I truly have no words.
The only pieces I liked are: The Night, The Wanderer, Wallflower, Sundays with Michael. Everything else can be described as "lovelovelove, fairies, flowers, youyouyou, himhimhim". See, I can write poetry too!
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I personally am glad that I didn't buy all three of these collections but got them from the library because I didn't know beforehand that Memories is a collections of some poems that were already in Leav's other collections Love & Misadventure and Lullabies plus a couple of new ones too. I have read both of those other poetry collections so there wasn't much new content in here but I still really enjoyed all the poems a lot and decided to give this 4 stars for the overall enjoyment of the poems.
I personally am glad that I didn't buy all three of these collections but got them from the library because I didn't know beforehand that there would be repeat poems in this one. I'd recommend going for this collections if you're looking to purchase just one of them!
"In a sea of strangers,...more
you've longed to know me.
Your life spent sailing
to my shores.The arms that yearn
to someday hold me,
will ache beneath
the heavy oars.Please take your time
and take it slowly;
as all you do
will run its course.And nothing else
can take what only -
was always meant
as solely yours."
I only slightly wish there was more new poems in this, I had originally thought the whole book was new poems instead of some new poems and then former poems from her previous poetry books. But a lot of them were my favourite ones from those so I didn't mind!
Another favourite poetry book of mine added to my bookshelves! I love Lang Leav's poetry so much and how she writes and the connection I feel with certain poems.I only slightly wish there was more new poems in this, I had originally thought the whole book was new poems instead of some new poems and then former poems from her previous poetry books. But a lot of them were my favourite ones from those so I didn't mind!
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I just love everything Lang Leav. I love this book. It features the best from Love and Misadventures and Lullabies and some of her new poems. Definitely worth reading. Just beautiful. Might be one of her best books ever. I love the covers of the three books.
Lang has been featured on CNN, SBS Australia, Intelligence
Novelist and poet, Lang Leav is an international bestselling author and winner of a Qantas Spirit of Youth Award, Churchill Fellowship and Goodreads Choice Award. Often credited with popularizing poetry among a new generation of young readers, Lang's poetry books, and hit novel, Sad Girls continue to top best seller charts around the world.Lang has been featured on CNN, SBS Australia, Intelligence Squared UK, Radio New Zealand and in various publications, including Vogue, Newsweek, the Straits Times, the Guardian, and the New York Times.
She currently resides in New Zealand with her partner and fellow author, Michael Faudet.
...moreNews & Interviews
Patience and Love agreed to meet at a set time and place; beneath the twenty-third tree in the olive orchard. Patience arrived promptly and waited. She checked her watch every so often but still, there was no sign of Love.
Was it the twenty-third tree or the fifty-sixth? She wondered and decided to check, just in case. As she made her way over to the fifty-sixth tree, Love arrived at twenty-three, where Patience was noticeably absent.
Love waited and waited before deciding he must have the wrong tree and perhaps it was another where they were supposed to meet.
Meanwhile, Patience had arrived at the fifty-sixth tree, where Love was still nowhere to be seen.
Both begin to drift aimlessly around the olive orchard, almost meeting but never do.
Finally, Patience, who was feeling lost and resigned, found herself beneath the same tree where she began. She stood there for barely a minute when there was a tap on her shoulder.
It was Love.
..................................
"Where are you?" She asked. "I have been searching all my life." "Stop looking for me," Love replied, "and I will find you."
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Posted by: shilohshilohgorelike0267335.blogspot.com
Source: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25330489-memories
