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Posts from the ‘Poetry’ Category

Twinkle Twinkle

“Sparkle never goes out of style.” – Chrishell Stause

“When life gives you Monday, dip it in glitter and sparkle all day.” – Ella Woodward

A tilt, a turn for a different view.
Up and around.
Fresh start.
New week, new day, new hour.
Blank canvas, ready for some color, glitter, sparkle.
Art class is in session.
Beauty the muse.
A poem to be written, a song to be sung.
Like a diamond in the sky.
Twinkle twinkle little star.
Cast light.

“The world is full of poetry. The air is living with its spirit; and the waves dance to the music of its melodies, and sparkle in its brightness.” James Gates Percival

baptism

“Love is not consolation. It is light.”― Simone Weil

“The river is everywhere.”― Herman Hesse, Siddhartha

River of light
Ocean of hope
Well of love
Pay attention
Listen
Look
Longer
Deep dive into the waters
Coming to the surface again
Changed

“Hope is all that remains when concrete, tangible facts have scattered.”― Lucy Clarke, The Castaways

The Flow, Enter

“Faith does not need to push the river because faith is able to trust that there is a river. The river is flowing. We are in it.”― Richard Rohr

“Let me always be who I am, and then some.”― Mary Oliver, Winter Hours: Prose, Prose Poems, and Poems

Water moving through, over rocks
Waves ebbing and flowing
A rhythm
A symphony
An invitation to the natural flow
Cracks and crevices to oceans
Rivers and byways
Poetry and prose
Words to paragraphs
Winter to spring, back again
Underlying and transcending all seasons
Malleable and porous
Moving, unfolding, stretching, bending, pushed, pulled
Breaking yet not broken
Enter the flow
The full breath
Becoming, and then some.

“May what I do flow from me like a river, no forcing and no holding back, the way it is with children.”― Rainer Maria Rilke

To Labor and Wait

In the labor and the waiting, may you find joy throughout.
Alive in the living present.
Awake in this very moment.

Psalm of Life
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

“Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world’s broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe’er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act,— act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o’erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;

Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o’er life’s solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.”

In the Pause

“Glance at the sun. See the moon and the stars. Gaze at the beauty of the Earth’s greenings. Now, think.” – Hildegard of Bingen

“Rather than going for the high moment of drama, the high moment of the erotic, the high moment of the extraordinary, poetry will choose the small moment of pause just to look at what’s really happening, to look at a few layers deep and to let that small pause, that ordinary moment, open up with all the fullness of its being to us.” – Pádraig Ó Tuama

A pause
A glance
A moment
Embrace
Be held
Poetry in the ordinary

The Work

“I would like to be remembered as a person who wanted to be free… so other people would be also free.” – Rosa Parks

May we never cease striving for freedom for self and others.
In thought, word, action.
Connected. Generous. Kind.
Peace. Love. Light.
The work of a lifetime.

Keep A-Pluggin’ Away
by Paul Laurence Dunbar

“I’ve a humble little motto
That is homely, though it’s true,—
Keep a-pluggin’ away.
It’s a thing when I’ve an object
That I always try to do,—
Keep a-pluggin’ away.
When you’ve rising storms to quell,
When opposing waters swell,
It will never fail to tell,—
Keep a-pluggin’ away.

If the hills are high before
And the paths are hard to climb,
Keep a-pluggin’ away.
And remember that successes
Come to him who bides his time,—
Keep a-pluggin’ away.
From the greatest to the least,
None are from the rule released.
Be thou toiler, poet, priest,
Keep a-pluggin’ away.

Delve away beneath the surface,
There is treasure farther down,—
Keep a-pluggin’ away.
Let the rain come down in torrents,
Let the threat’ning heavens frown,
Keep a-pluggin’ away.
When the clouds have rolled away,
There will come a brighter day
All your labor to repay,—
Keep a-pluggin’ away.

There ‘ll be lots of sneers to swallow.
There’ll be lots of pain to bear,—
Keep a-pluggin’ away.
If you’ve got your eye on heaven,
Some bright day you’ll wake up there,
Keep a-pluggin’ away.
Perseverance still is king;
Time its sure reward will bring;
Work and wait unwearying,—
Keep a-pluggin’ away.”

Illumination

“Beauty is the illumination of your soul.” – John O’Donohue

Wherever you are, wherever you wander today, may beauty be your companion, light your friend, joy your spirit.

On Beauty
by Kahlil Gibran

“And a poet said, Speak to us of Beauty.
And he answered:
Where shall you seek beauty, and how shall your find her unless she herself be your way and your guide?
And how shall you speak of her except she be the weaver of your speech?

The aggrieved and the injured say, “Beauty is kind and gentle.
Like a young mother half-shy of her own glory she walks among us.”
And the passionate say, “Nay, beauty is a thing of might and dread.
Like the tempest she shakes the earth beneath us and the sky above us.”

The tired and the weary say, “Beauty is of soft whisperings. She speaks in our spirit.
Her voice yields to our silences like a faint light that quivers in fear of the shadow.”
But the restless say, “We have heard her shouting among the mountains,
And with her cries came the sound of hoofs, and the beating of wings and the roaring of lions.”

At night the watchmen of the city say, “Beauty shall rise with the dawn from the east.”
And at noontide the toilers and the wayfarers say, “We have seen her leaning over the earth from the windows of the sunset.”

In winter say the snow-bound, “She shall come with the spring leaping upon the hills.”
And in the summer heat the reapers say, “We have seen her dancing with the autumn leaves, and we saw a drift of snow in her hair.”
All these things have you said of beauty,
Yet in truth you spoke not of her but of needs unsatisfied,
And beauty is not a need but an ecstasy
It is not a mouth thirsting nor an empty hand stretched forth,
But rather a heart enflamed and a soul enchanted.
It is not in the image you would see nor the song you would hear,
But rather an image you see though you close your eyes and a song you hear though you shut your ears.
It is not the sap within the furrowed bark, nor a wing attached to a claw,
But rather a garden for ever in bloom and a flock of angels for ever in flight.

People of Orphalese, beauty is life when life unveils her holy face.
But you are life and you are the veil.
Beauty is eternity gazing at itself in a mirror.
But you are eternity and you are the mirror.”

Sky Song

“Even
After
All this time
The Sun never says to the Earth,
“You owe me.”
Look
What happens
With a love like that,
It lights the whole sky.”
― Hafiz

A canvas
A possibility
An opening
An invitation

To bigness
To expanse
To dance
To delight

Composition
Rhythm
The poetry of a summer’s day coming to a close.
Lighting up more than the sky.

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? (Sonnet 18)
by William Shakespeare

“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date.
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature’s changing course, untrimmed;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st,
Nor shall death brag thou wand’rest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to Time thou grow’st

So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.”

Lingering Gaze

“When the green woods laugh with the voice of joy, And the dimpling stream runs laughing by; When the air does laugh with our merry wit, And the green hill laughs with the noise of it.” – William Blake

“In a world myriad as ours, the gaze is a singular act: to look at something is to fill your whole life with it, if only briefly.”― Ocean Vuong, On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous

May you be overwhelmed and embraced with the fullness of today.
Lingering in the summer sun.
Slowing to see bounty and abundance in reach.
A singular act.
The drains of heaven.
At our feet.
Walk softly on this holy sacred ground.
Lighter.
With ease, gratitude and in amazement.

“Stars. Or rather, the drains of heaven – waiting. Little holes. Little centuries opening just enough for us to slip through.”― Ocean Vuong, Night Sky with Exit Wounds

Sway

“What is the good of your stars and trees, your sunrise and the wind, if they do not enter into our daily lives?” – E. M. Forster

Winds surge.
Storms to come.
Trees sway.
Moving with, not against.
The flow.
Bending rather than breaking.
Stretching, dancing, accepting.

The Wind
by Robert Louis Stevenson

“I saw you toss the kites on high
And blow the birds about the sky;
And all around I heard you pass,
Like ladies’ skirts across the grass–
O wind, a-blowing all day long,
O wind, that sings so loud a song!

I saw the different things you did,
But always you yourself you hid.
I felt you push, I heard you call,
I could not see yourself at all–
O wind, a-blowing all day long,
O wind, that sings so loud a song!

O you that are so strong and cold,
O blower, are you young or old?
Are you a beast of field and tree,
Or just a stronger child than me?
O wind, a-blowing all day long,
O wind, that sings so loud a song!”

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