Have a wonderful day all...
Morning Poem
Mary Oliver
Every morning
the world
is created.
Under the orange
sticks of the sun
the heaped
ashes of the night
turn into leaves again
and fasten themselves to the high branches ---
and the ponds appear
like black cloth
on which are painted islands
of summer lilies.
If it is your nature
to be happy
you will swim away along the soft trails
for hours, your imagination
alighting everywhere.
And if your spirit
carries within it
the thorn
that is heavier than lead ---
if it's all you can do
to keep on trudging ---
there is still
somewhere deep within you
a beast shouting that the earth
is exactly what it wanted ---
each pond with its blazing lilies
is a prayer heard and answered
lavishly,
every morning,
whether or not
you have ever dared to be happy,
whether or not
you have ever dared to pray.
Last edited by freckle; 03-08-2010 at 10:29 AM.
I am having problems with the SEARCH function on the forum these days so apologies if this has been posted before
I HAVE LOVED HOURS AT SEA
I have loved hours at sea, gray cities,
The fragile secret of a flower,
Music, the making of a poem
That gave me heaven for an hour;
First stars above a snowy hill,
Voices of people kindly and wise,
And the great look of love, long hidden,
Found at last in meeting eyes.
I have loved much and been loved deeply --
Oh when my spirit's fire burns low,
Leave me the darkness and the stillness,
I shall be tired and glad to go.
Sara Teasdale
...and I will just slip another one in as I accidentally found a great illustration to go with it which is believed to be inspired by the poem![]()
DREAM LAND
Where sunless rivers weep
Their waves into the deep,
She sleeps a charmed sleep:
Awake her not.
Led by a single star,
She came from very far
To seek where shadows are
Her pleasant lot.
She left the rosy morn,
She left the fields of corn,
For twilight cold and lorn
And water springs.
Through sleep, as through a veil,
She sees the sky look pale,
And hears the nightingale
That sadly sings.
Rest, rest, a perfect rest
Shed over brow and breast;
Her face is toward the west,
The purple land.
She cannot see the grain
Ripening on hill and plain;
She cannot feel the rain
Upon her hand.
Rest, rest, for evermore
Upon a mossy shore;
Rest, rest at the heart's core
Till time shall cease:
Sleep that no pain shall wake;
Night that no morn shall break
Till joy shall overtake
Her perfect peace.
Christina Rossetti
Dream Land by Emma Florence Harrison
I know what you mean Harry, things are very hectic for me too at the minute which is always the case just before a holiday!...it would be nice to have a project to focus on for the autumn /winter though so perhaps later on in the year I could ask for a few of people's favourites and we could begin work on that book!
In the meantime...I found this lovely poem tonight which I found both moving and soothing...
A Piece Of The Storm by Mark Strand
From the shadow of domes in the city of domes,
A snowflake, a blizzard of one, weightless, entered your room
And made its way to the arm of the chair where you, looking up
From your book, saw it the moment it landed.
That's all There was to it. No more than a solemn waking
To brevity, to the lifting and falling away of attention, swiftly,
A time between times, a flowerless funeral. No more than that
Except for the feeling that this piece of the storm,
Which turned into nothing before your eyes, would come back,
That someone years hence, sitting as you are now, might say:
"It's time. The air is ready. The sky has an opening."
You don’t need sight, you need vision
By day I work hard and have disappointing conversations with the bank.
But by night, my friend, well I am rich beyond my wildest dreams!
Barefoot running, escaping wild eyed cows, nettle stings
Home made stuffed mushrooms, Pink Floyd and the affection of three hounds.
Oh and things I can’t mention right here.
“So you see”, she said, the other voice in my head
You don’t need sight, you need vision.