A Tropical Nook
It must have been the words we exchanged that I perked up in the quiet migration of the soft light. Even the birds of paradise seemed to be singing a different tune.
Tag Archives: poem
Invictus
Out of the night that covers meBlack as the pit from pole to pole,I thank whatever gods may beFor my unconquerable soul. In the fell clutch of circumstance,I have not winced nor cried aloud.Under the bludgeonings of chanceMy head is … Continue reading
Listen to the Mustn’ts
Listen to Mustn’ts, child, listen to the Don’ts.Listen to the Shouldn’ts, the Impossibles, the Won’ts.Listen to the Never Haves, then listen close to me.Anything can happen, child, Anything can be. -Shel Silverstein
The Fellowship of the Ring
“All that is gold does not glitter,Not all those who wander are lost;The old that is strong does not wither,Deep roots are not reached by the frost.From the ashes a fire shall be woken,A light from the shadows shall spring;Renewed … Continue reading
The Poetry Within
The color suits you.It softens you.It even sweetens you up.Come closer weary one.Let me see what you can’t say,What those salty tracks have etched down that chiseled face of yours.What have they done to you child of God?By gosh, do … Continue reading
I Bid You Well
In this decayed hole among the mountainsIn the faint moonlight, the grass is singingOver the tumbled graves, about the chapelThere is the empty chapel, only the wind’s homeit has no windows, and the door swingsdry bones can harm no one … Continue reading
Why I Wake Early
“Just a minute, said a voice in the weeds.” So I stood still in the day’s exquisite morning light. – Mary Oliver
Tossed Waters.
Most feathered friends have taken off in flocks heading south by now. I read this poem and thought of them…wish I were in their feathers right about now, weary, tender and happy to be soaring with friends sans regrets to … Continue reading
The Uses of Sorrow
(In my sleep I dreamed this poem) Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this, too was a gift. – Mary Oliver from Thirst (Beacon Press, 2006)
Take Time to Sit with Me
Side by side with me until our midriff clenches no more, until I feel the agua frescas like a waterfall, whilst the last drop was some time ago. Heels dig into moody and lyrical lure, and yet without paper to … Continue reading
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