Advertisements
RSS Feed

Tag Archives: writing poetry

Yes Mary. Everything Does. And Too Soon. Way Too Soon. (RIP)

via Yes Mary. Everything Does. And Too Soon. Way Too Soon. (RIP)

David shared Mary Oliver’s poem Summer in this post.

This poem poses many questions from its opening line to the closing. Who creates life and nature? How will I live my one wild and wonderful life? These questions are about the essence and mystery of life and living.

At the end of his post, David shared from another Mary Oliver poem, When Death Comes: “When it’s over, I want to say all my life/ I was a bride married to amazement.” If I only live a small portion of my life in amazement, I can fulfill what calls me to live most fully.

One of the amazing things about Mary Oliver’s poetry is, although she is physically removed, her voice remains alive and vibrant in the words she so eloquently shared with us.

100_4476

I took this picture in Jasper National Park several years ago. The flow of the river as it narrows becomes wilder and reminds me of the wildness I seek in life.

 

Advertisements

Haiku

Hanshan wrote this Haiku. I enjoy reading and writing Haiku. A poem’s meaning is usually shrouded in mystery, but Haiku even more so.  There is so much left to the imagination.

I turn off the light —

my heart a precipice

before the moon

I have not written a Haiku for a while, but decided to take a run at it. Mine is less abstract.

Words separate spaces

overflowing and alluring

Flooding my senses

Poetry Beckons

As I drove to work this morning, I reflected on the comments shared on the post I Dwell in Possibility. The car is a tough place to write and I hurriedly got into the classroom and pulled my notebook out. I sat with the reflections during the day as they bubbled near the surface. Writing poetry is a space I needed and find comfort in as the school year unfolded. I find solace in the poetry and the unlikely moments it beckons.

in unlikely moments,

poetry beckons–

pulls me to her side–

she is a different lover–

no carnal, siren calls,

a modest, unobtrusive presence,

a compassionate companion whispers,

come hither friend–

sit, reflect–

here, realize refuge–

close your eyes

open your heart

observe,

pause,

discern an inaudible voice

ask, what moves the soul

animates a weary spirit,

urges the writer on,

words find paper.

 

%d bloggers like this: