Midnight Pub

lines that are stuck in my head


hello, midnight pub!

a few months ago there was this line from a... poem? piece of prose? that i would just think about nearly every day. i just remembered it again, and here you have it:

spring is a bouquet arranged by a blind florist, but it's sweet you got me flowers at all.

this line is by eric silver on the podcast 'join the party'! it's in campaign 2 episode 18, somewhere near the end. i'm not sure why it hit me so hard, but after hearing it i was completely obsessed. for real. thought about it so often.

another line that's been playing in my head really often is something that goes along the lines of "i can't help your name slipping out of my mouth when i hear the word 'love'." unfortunately i have no idea where this is from and i doubt i'd be able to find the source again, but it hits so hard!

anyone with favorite poems? favorite podcasts? obsessed with join the party. and i think poetry is so pretty!

hope you are having a great day :D


Hm...I'm not entirely awake right now, so I may get some lines wrong, but:

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods;
There is a rapture on the lonely shore.
There is society where none intrudes
By the deep sea, and music in its roar.
I love not man the less, but nature more
For these, our interviews, in which I steal
From all that I may be, or have been before,
To mingle with the universe and feel
What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.

It's an excerpt from Childe Harold's Pilgrimage that I memorized, along with the following verse (Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, roll; ten thousand fleets sweep over there in vain...) some ten years ago and have since used to ground myself when I feel detached from myself. I've repeated it so many times that it often loses its meaning to me, but it's a comfort even then -- and sometimes, as now, I still feel what I felt reading it the first time.



I would give my soul to find the poet who wrote something to the effect of:

you are the wind

you are a flower

you are the sun

Those are the last parts of a longer (paragraph-sized?) poem, and I do not recall the name of the poem nor the poet, but it is a Latin American man.

I read the entirety of the poem in an Instagram caption in 2014 on some cheesy fruitarian's photo of a sunset, and I was either in a bizarre state of mind when I read it, or perhaps just smitten with the concept of fruitarianism (I still am, sorta), but, the poem was stunning, I thought.

Any tips or answers as to who this poet was, or the poet itself would be awesome, haha.

Hope everyone is doing good :)



Today I spent a good 20 minutes trying to remember the name of a poem I discovered in a high school literature book of all places over a decade ago (public school lit seemed generally milquetoast). It turned out to be

Her Lips Are Copper Wire by Jean Toomer:

whisper of yellow globes
gleaming on lamp-posts that sway
like bootleg licker drinkers in the fog
and let your breath be moist against me
like bright beads on yellow globes
telephone the power-house
that the main wires are insulate
(her words play softly up and down
dewy corridors of billboards)
then with your tongue remove the tape
and press your lips to mine
till they are incandescent

While not well read in poetry enough to claim it as a favorite, I will say that it is very special to me as a piece that showed me what poetry could be.



this is such a pretty poem. a lot of people think that love is overrepresented in poetry and art in general, but there are so many forms of love; perhaps love is the point of it all.

(and i also learnt the meaning of the word 'milquetoast'. that's fun!)

i'm taking literature in school now—we just finished a unit on short stories, and Oh Boy did it give me such an insight into the power of symbolism and stories.



I'm often wanting to find the source of a bit of poetry or lyric, and it used to be not that hard. But it seems like in the last couple of years, search engines have evolved in a direction such that they can't find specific quotes anymore.