"How can I begin anything new with all of yesterday in me?"
111 posts categorized "Poetry"
In the morning as the storm begins to blow away
the clear sky appears for a moment and it seems to me
that there has been something simpler than I could ever believe
simpler than I could have begun to find words for
not patient not even waiting no more hidden
than the air itself that became part of me for a while
with every breath and remained with me unnoticed
something that was here unnamed unknown in the days
and the nights not separate from them
not separate from them as they came and were gone
it must have been here neither early nor late then
by what name can I address it now holding out my thanks
~ "Just Now" by W. S. Merwin
... which seemed like a
visitation from the sun, urging me to tell you, in
case like me you had forgotten
we are the universe's latest way of blooming.
~ an excerpt from Untitled ["This poem is not meant for you"] by Willow Harth
"We always feel younger than we are. I carry inside myself my earlier faces, as a tree contains its rings. The sum of them is me. The mirror sees only my latest face, while I know all my previous ones."
~ Tomas Tranströmer
"I realize there is something incredibly honest about trees in Winter, how they're experts at letting things go."
~ poet Jeffrey McDaniel
To converse with the greats
by trying their blindfolds on;
to correspond with books
by rewriting them;
to edit holy edicts,
and at the midnight hour
to talk with the clock by tapping a wall
in the solitary confinement of the universe.
~ "To Converse with the Greats" by Vera Pavlova
Therefore all seasons shall be sweet to thee,
Whether the summer clothe the general earth
With greenness, or the redbreast sit and sing
Betwixt the tufts of snow on the bare branch
Of mossy apple-tree, while the nigh thatch
Smokes in the sun-thaw; whether the eave-drops fall
Heard only in the trances of the blast,
Or if the secret ministry of frost
Shall hang them up in silent icicles,
Quietly shining to the quiet Moon.
~ Samuel Coleridge, excerpt from Frost at Midnight
Two Exotic Birds, drawing on paper by Aert Schouman, 1762
There are tones so high
And so low
That human ears
Cannot hear them.
It's possible, living
In forest or hedge
That birds hide from us
Singing until the morning.
~ Silent Night by Dutch Poet Albert Verwey
Nothing will tell you
where you are.
Each moment is a place
you've never been.
~ an excerpt from "Black Maps" by Mark Strand
Buddha was asked, "What have you gained from meditation?" He replied, "Nothing! However, let me tell you what I have lost: anger, anxiety, depression, insecurity, fear of old age and death."