Poetry

CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS: poetry for our library. Please visit Contact & Submissions  for further details.


 

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One Day In Time by Steven Du Pre

We are in a marathon,
our eyes on this faltering journey
but today I am turning
to listen to riversong,
to revel in the splendor
of mountain fields of wildflowers:
Lupine, Bird’s Eye Gilia, Hot Rock Dudleya.

with this disease, I have to stop
and consider each step,
not like the pack of runners swiftly
passing by at a pace that permits
only a sidelong glance at the landscape,
but no time to look deep
into the intricate heart of the bloom–

opening pearl-white satin Globe Lily blossom,
following the maroon path that guides
the bee bearing pollen
into the mysterious birthplace of seeds—

yes, to go slowly enough to see the delicate
hand of God in creation

just now a whirling stream of irridescent blue
Hairstreak Butterflies
go surfing over waves of purple Lupine—

I’m sorry. I got caught up in this fullness of life.
I know, the race is on,
but the richness of God and the simple things
will do that to you sometimes—
to see the joy in my wife’s eyes at the unfolding spring,
the mountain slope blooming and afternoon sun lighting
the river as it plays a delightful sonata—
all these make the soul satisfied.

No, I guess I’m not sorry after all.
I’m going to keep on veering off the trail,
turn my gaze fully into these hidden vistas.
I hear the prize is not just
for those who cross the line first.

http://www.angelfire.com/poetry/soareagle/
A small group of poems with accompanying photographs that celebrate life and that include a few about my M. E. experience along with others about the animals on the planet and the joys of our life together.
By words the mind is winged.”  Aristophanes
Website for National Alliance for Myalgic Encephalomyelitis
Name-us:
A useful & informative website for patients as well as medical personnel with a lot of information about the scientific facts about M. E. and the clear-cut definitive diagnosis that can be made along with some historical information about M. E.



I Know the Way You Can Get

I know the way you can get
When you have not had a drink of Love:

Your face hardens,
Your sweet muscles cramp.
Children become concerned
About a strange look that appears in your eyes
Which even begins to worry your own mirror
And nose.

Squirrels and birds sense your sadness
And call an important conference in a tall tree.
They decide which secret code to chant
To help your mind and soul.

Even angels fear that brand of madness
That arrays itself against the world
And throws sharp stones and spears into
The innocent
And into one’s self.

O I know the way you can get
If you have not been drinking Love:

You might rip apart
Every sentence your friends and teachers say,
Looking for hidden clauses.

You might weigh every word on a scale
Like a dead fish.

You might pull out a ruler to measure
From every angle in your darkness
The beautiful dimensions of a heart you once
Trusted.

I know the way you can get
If you have not had a drink from Love’s
Hands.

That is why all the Great Ones speak of
The vital need
To keep remembering God,
So you will come to know and see Him
As being so Playful
And Wanting,
Just Wanting to help.

That is why Hafiz says:
Bring your cup near me.
For all I care about
Is quenching your thirst for freedom!

All a Sane man can ever care about
Is giving Love!

Sufi poet Hafiz –
Published in ‘I Heard God Laughing – Renderings of Hafiz’
Translated by Daniel Ladinsky


 


A Brief Synopsis of Synapses

One hundred-billion neurons
             call
to one another

             without numbers.

Lively leaps of faith
repair line breaks

and make connections
we can only dream of:

to think, to feel,
to move, to heal.

Success progresses from
this strong neuronal song,

to live, to love, to be,
yes,
to belong.

by Mary Harwell Sayler, ©2012, from Living in the Nature Poem, published by Hiraeth Press.

 


 


The Recipe

I am made of stars, sand, rain.
My fingers flicker
birds,
my feet fins,
my head
an acorn.

If stars implode,
a black hole sucks me.
If rains wash sand,
I am moved.

This earth,
this universe
does not shelter me
like
a building but like
skin, bones, blood,
a single cell.

by Mary Harwell Sayler, ©2012, from Living in the Nature Poem, published by Hiraeth Press

 


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SEED OF HOPE

I plant myself firmly within You.
I reach up to Your Divine light.
I am nourished and balanced by the elements.
I grow in strength and wisdom everyday.
Made in Your image;
I am perfect;
in peace;
interconnected with all of Creation.
You gave me life.
Within every breath
lies the present — Your gift.
You are here and now
and so I strive to Be
there too.

© Lily J Grace
Reprint permission courtesy of the author

 


Lord Of My Life

Thou who art the innermost Spirit of my being,
art thou pleased, Lord of my Life?
For I give to thee my cup filled with all
the pain and delight that the crushed
grapes of my heart had surrendered,
I wove with rhythm of colors and song cover for thy bed,
And with the molten gold of my desires
I fashioned playthings for thy passing hours.
I know not why thou chosest me for thy partner,
Lord of my life.

Didst thou store my days and nights,
my deeds and dreams for the alchemy of thy art,
and string in the chain of thy music my songs of autumn and spring,
and gather the flowers from my mature moments for thy crown?

I see thine eyes gazing at the dark of my heart,
Lord of my life,
I wonder if my failure and wrongs are forgiven.
For many were my days without service
and nights of forgetfulness; futile were the flowers
that faded in the shade not offered to thee.

Often the tied strings of my lute slackened
at the strains of thy tunes.
And often at the ruin of wasted hours
my desolate evenings were filled with tears.

But have my days come to their end at last,
Lord of my life, while my arms round thee
grow limp, my kisses losing their truth?
Then break up the meeting of this languid day!
Renew the old in me in fresh forms of delight;
and let the wedding come once again in
a new ceremony of life.

© Rabindranath Tagore

 


 

As You Travel Through Life….

As you travel through life
there are always those times
when decisions just have to be made
when the choices are hard,
and solutions seem scarce
and the rain seems
to soak your parade!

There are some situations
where all you can do
is to simply let go and move on
gather courage together
and choose a direction
that carries you toward a new dawn.

So pack up your troubles
and take a step forward
the process of change can be tough
but think about all the excitement ahead
if you can be stalwart enough!

There could be adventures
you never imagined
just waiting around the next bend
and wishes and dreams
just about to come true
in ways you can’t yet comprehend!

Perhaps you’ll find friendships
that spring from new interests
as you challenge your status quo
and learn there are so many
options in life,
and so many ways you can grow!

Perhaps you’ll go places
you never expected
and see things that you’ve never seen
or travel to fabulous,
faraway worlds
and wonderful spots in between!

Perhaps you’ll find warmth
and affection and caring,
a “somebody special” who’s there
to help you stay centered
and listen with interest
to stories and feelings you share.

Perhaps you’ll find comfort
in knowing your friends are
supportive of all that you do
and believe that whatever
decisions you make,
they’ll be the right choices for you!

So keep putting one foot
in front of the other
and taking your life
day by day.

There’s a brighter tomorrow
that’s just down the road.
Don’t look back,
you’re not going that way!

Author Unknown

 


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Mountain scene Poland



Glory

Glory is on the horizon
of even days like these.
So reproach this fool who chases cloudless skies,
and leisurely meadows, 
and the pleasure’s path—
whenever she’s weighed down with fatigue,
on sunless days like these.

Sun disappeared also for You,
like a cloud passing over
the heaviest of loads.
So reproach this fool’s cowardly thoughts,
whenever she turns from the glory of the cross.
Let her heart’s one concern be feeling afraid
of distance from You—on such cloud-filled days.

Was there ever a time
when a road was smooth as silk,
for disciples of Him, who reigns from a cross?
Yet they sang with confidence
that their life’s uphill climb,
brought them closer to the heaven—
of the One who died for love.

Author: © Bozena Zawisz, published in “A Christian Gift,” bozenazawisz.com

 


Hope

Her trace is entwined with the glow of the stars.
She was born amongst them when the world began.
Her people star gaze before they close their eyes
and under her assurance drift into sleep at night.
She projects her trace onto their every moment,
as they search her stars for better tomorrows.

To maidens she offers a kiss from lust untainted,
and dreams of white veils, and bouquets of spring flowers.
To the ones that were lied to she whispers of sincerity,
then scatters in the wind their painful apprehensions.

Life ebbs and flows on her tides,
as she dissipates bad dreams in morning’s first light. 

Author: © Bozena Zawisz
bozenazawisz.com 

 


 

Should you not gain your wants, my soul, then be not grieved;
But hasten to that banquet which your Lord’s bequeathed.

And when a thing for which you ask is slow to come,
Then know that often through delay are gifts received.

Find solace in privation and respect its due,
For only by contentment is the heart relieved.

And know that when the trials of life have rendered you
Despairing of all hope, and of all joy bereaved,

Then shake yourself and rouse yourself from heedlessness,
And make pure hope a meadow that you never leave.

Your Maker’s gifts take subtle and uncounted forms.
How fine the fabric of the world His hands have weaved.

The journey done, they came to the water of life,
And all the caravan drank deep, their thirst relieved.

Far be it from the host to leave them thirsty there,
His spring pours forth all generosity received.

My Lord, my trust in all Your purposes is strong,
That trust is now my shield; I’m safe, and undeceived.

All those who hope for grace from You will feel Your rain;
Too generous are You to leave my branch unleaved.

May blessings rest upon the loved one, Muhammad,
Who’s been my means to high degrees since I believed.

He is my fortress and my handhold, so my soul,
Hold fast, and travel to a joy still unconceived.

Shaykh Ali bin Husayn al-Habshi

 


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The Journey

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice –
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
“Mend my life!”
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do –
determined to save
the only life you could save.

© Mary Oliver

 


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TO KNOW TAO 

To know Tao
meditate
and still the mind.
Knowledge comes with perseverance.

The Way is neither full nor empty;
a modest and quiet nature understands this.
The empty vessel, the uncarved block;
nothing is more mysterious.

When enlightenment arrives
don’t talk too much about it;
just live it in your own way.
With humility and depth, rewards come naturally.

The fragrance of blossoms soon passes;
the ripeness of fruit is gone in a twinkling.
Our time in this world is so short,
better to avoid regret:
Miss no opportunity to savor the ineffable.

Like a golden beacon signalling on a moonless night,
Tao guides our passage through this transitory realm.
In moments of darkness and pain
remember all is cyclical.
Sit quietly behind your wooden door:
Spring will come again.



When I lose Myself in Thee

by Hindu saint Turaram

When thus I lose myself in 
Thee, my God, 
Then do I see, and know, 
That all Thy universe reveals
Thy beauty, 
All living beings, and all
lifeless things, 
Exist through thee. 

This whole vast world is
but the form
In which Thou showest us Thyself, 
Is but the voice, 
In which Thyself Thou
speakest unto us. 

What need of words?
Come, Master, come, 
And fill me wholly with Thyself. 


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EASTER MORN

Gently thou beckonest from the giant hills
The new-born beauty in the emerald sky,
And wakening murmurs from the drowsy rills–
O gladsome dayspring! ‘reft of mortal sigh
To glorify all time–eternity–
With thy still fathomless Christ-majesty.

E’en as Thou gildest gladdened joy, dear God,
Give risen power to prayer; fan Thou the flame
Of right with might; and midst the rod,
And stern, dark shadows cast on Thy blest name,
Lift Thou a patient love above earth’s ire,
Piercing the clouds with its triumphal spire.

While sacred song and loudest breath of praise
Echo amid the hymning spheres of light,–
With heaven’s lyres and angels’ loving lays,–
Send to the loyal struggler for the right,
Joy–not of time, nor yet by nature sown,
But the celestial seed dropped from Love’s throne.

Prolong the strain “Christ risen!” Sad sense, annoy
No more the peace of Soul’s sweet solitude!
Deep loneness, tear-filled tones of distant joy,
Depart! Glad Easter glows with gratitude–
Love’s verdure veils the leaflet’s wondrous birth–
Rich rays, rare footprints on the dust of earth.

Not life, the vassal of the changeful hour,
Nor burdened bliss, but Truth and Love attest
The solemn splendor of immortal power,–
The ever Christ, and glorified behest,
Poured on the sense which deems no suffering vain
That wipes away the sting of death–sin, pain

© Mary Baker Eddy

 


 

Never useless

A trace of gentleness left a deep impression,
when in a moment of time she expressed love’s message. 

A kind word, barely whispered, had a strong impact-
a penny for the thought that rejoiced in not being hidden.

A token gesture revealed consideration,
saved one smile the dankness of inadequate attention.

A crumb of benevolence left a heavy bearing.
God knows what harvests can blossom- from fragile seedlings.

Author: © Bozena Zawisz
bozenazawisz.com 

 


 

An Epilogue by John Masefield

I have seen flowers come in stony places
And kind things done by men with ugly faces,
And the gold cup won by the worst horse at the races,
So I trust, too.

 


 

LET GO

To ‘let go’ does not mean to stop caring;
it means I can’t do it for someone else.

To ‘let go’ is not to cut myself off;
it is the realisation that
I must not control another.

To ‘let go’ is not to fix;
but to be supportive.

To ‘let go’ is not to be in the middle
arranging all the outcomes;
but to allow others to effect their destinies.

To ‘let go’ is not to be protective;
it is to permit another to face reality.

To ‘let go’ is not to regret the past;
but to grow and live for the future.

To ‘let go’ is to fear less
and love more.

Author Unknown

 


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‘I Came to Bring Peace’ by Bozena Zawisz – from the collection ‘Neither Innocent Nor Guilty’
Christmas poem by Bozena Zawisz


 

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