Welcome to poetry day on the blog. This poem by Rumi explains love better than any technical explanation ever could. This is the beauty of poetry. It speaks of the “beyond”. Poetry uses words to go beyond words.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
Here is the question of the day from 3000 Questions About Me:
1953. What is your favorite type of casserole?
Good morning. Happy St. Patrick’s Day! (I apologize for not publishing a post yesterday. Distractions abounded!) Sundays are devoted to poetry on the blog. In honor of St. Patrick’s Day, I am going to feature some poems by Irish writers. The Irish have a way with melancholic writing like no others . . . .
“The Last Rose of Summer”
’Tis the last rose of summer
Left blooming alone;
All her lovely companions
Are faded and gone;
No flower of her kindred,
No rosebud is nigh,
To reflect back her blushes,
To give sigh for sigh …
-Thomas Moore
“The Lost Land: Poems”
This is what language is:
a habitual grief. A turn of speech
for the everyday and ordinary abrasion
of losses such as this:
which hurts
just enough to be a scar
And heals just enough to be a nation.
-Eavan Boland
“The Lake Isle of Innisfree”
I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.
-W.B. Yeats
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
Here is the question of the day from 3000 Questions About Me:
2552. What’s your favorite cereal? (Especially in honor of today, I am going to say, “Lucky Charms.”)
Welcome to poetry day on the blog. Sundays are devoted to poetry here. Emily Dickinson’s poems were not widely published until after she died. She was known as a recluse and as a rebel. One of her most famous poems is below. I like it. I’ve never quite understood the desire for fame (admiration, sure, but fame – No thank you.) I believe that fame would limit your individual freedom so much, and also make you feel quite misunderstood and not quite “seen” despite being ever so seen. But honestly, I wouldn’t know. I’m nobody! Who are you?
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
Here is the question of the day from 3000 Questions About Me:
666. What is one thing you do that you consider practical?
Hi friends. I’m leaving on another little adventure. I may write every day, or I may not. (I’ll keep you posted. 😉 ) At the very least, I’ll be back in full form by the end of the week. Sundays are devoted to poetry. Today, I felt a little “rhyme-y”. Write a poem today, just because you can . . . . Here is my poem for the day:
There is nothing that will make you feel more like a child,
Bringing you back to your natural whimsy and wild,
Than planning a trip, an adventure, an impromptu lark,
And feeling the giddy frenzy right before you embark.
Perhaps the most exciting trip anyone of us has every planned,
Was the one that we have right here, in this place, in our hand.
Life is a journey that sometimes feels long and banal,
But if we look at it closely, its length is quite small.
So open each day with the thrill of the new,
Unpack all of your baggage, and enjoy and pursue.
Make the most of your days, as if they were your vacation.
Before you know it, your adventure will reach its culmination.
Every exciting experience always ends, this we know,
So, in the meantime, make it amazing, every inch that you go.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
Here is the question of the day from 3000 Questions About Me:
624. What word or phrase do you use too much?
We just had a wonderful time with friends who recently moved to Florida from up north. So they are so full of joy and excitement and adventurously exploring all of the different things to do around here. We have lived here for 13 years now, so it has become our “normal.” Being with them, revitalizes my own delight for where we live. I get to see my “same old/same old” with fresh new eyes. It is such a lovely gift. It is truly a gift when you feel revitalized by someone else shining their bright light on what you have gotten used to seeing, and thus sometimes leave in the dark shadows. Today, on poetry day on the blog, I am only going to share one of Kahlil Gibran’s shortest, truest poems.
“Desire is Half”
Desire is half of life.
Indifference is half of death.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
Here is the question of the day from 3000 Questions About Me:
2740. What is something that you’re are afraid to try?
Good morning. Sundays are devoted to poetry on the blog. Recently The Wall Street Journal ran an article about Maksym Kryvtsov, a Ukrainian poet turned soldier. Kryvtsov, who wrote most of his poems about the horrors of the war, perished in battle, on January 7th. He was 33. One of his most well-known poems talked of his “severed arms” that would “sprout as violets in the spring.” This same poem ends with these lines:
My bones
Will sink into the earth
Will become a carcass
My busted rifle
Will rust
Poor thing
My spare clothes and equipment
Will be given to new recruits
Well I’d rather it were spring already
To finally
Bloom
As a violet.
Poetry touches our hearts and our souls in a way that more direct writing cannot seem to do. I suppose that the way to our collective hearts is a windy path, filled with mystery, nuance, feeling, and to surrendering to its ever changing direction. I wrote the poem below, just this morning, before reading again, the poem above by Maksym Kryvtsov, which my husband had kindly laid aside for me a week or so ago. I am humbled by the difference in poetry by a poet who is surrounded by the direness of war, versus a writer who leads an agreeable life, in a country not at war.
On stormy, cold, windy days,
As the rain hammers its surroundings,
Home feels so cozy, comforting, serene.
Curling up in our own corner of the world,
Fills us with the feeling of being nurtured,
By the nesting that we busied ourselves with,
in more agreeable, enticing, seductive weather.
On still, bright, inviting, playful days,
We jauntily leave home for adventures,
Full of confidence, curiosity and calm.
And we often bring home possessions,
Which remind us of our truest selves.
So that when the storms arise again,
We are surrounded by the contentment,
Of our inner selves, displayed in physical form.
Our home, which is an extension of the life of us,
Is our familiar and steadfast, shelter from the storm.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
Here is the question of the day from 3000 Questions About Me:
1375. Do you think happiness is a choice?
Good morning. Welcome to poetry day on the blog. Sunday is the ultimate “breathe out” day isn’t it. Breathe out, and write a poem today. You won’t regret it. Writing poetry is a great exercise in self discovery. Here is my poem for today:
“PRESS RESET”
If there was ever a reset button for anyone’s life,
it would probably be on a Sunday morning.
All of the plans, and actions, and inactions, forward motions,
mistakes, redos, have-tos, sideswipes, happy surprises,
less than pleasant surprises, items crossed off the to-dos,
items added to the to-dos, new things learned, old things confirmed,
aches and pains, losses and gains, dreamy nights, sleepless nights,
knowledge gleaned, wisdom earned, gratitude seeped in,
All of this. All of the bits and bobs, whirling around all week,
Sometimes ending in frenzy and collapse and exhaustion . . .
How to save all of this information?
In order to not have any losses,
Something deep within us, presses a button,
RESET. We are ready to begin again . . . .
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
Here is the question of the day from 3000 Questions About Me:
2045. Do you think chivalry is dead . . . and should it be?
Good morning. Welcome to poetry day on the blog. What I love about poetry is the mystery in it. Sometimes I write a poem, and it is still an enigma, even to me, as to what the poem really means. Writing a poem is like going into the deep tombs of yourself, and discovering unusual, foreign writing on the wall, and quickly and excitedly transcribing this strange writing, without fully understanding the meaning behind it. Reading a poem offers this same mercurial experience. Undoubtedly, there is a different meaning and truth that comes from any poem, from every reader of it. Everyone’s own experiences and emotions are what brings the context to the meaning in any collection of words. Here is my poem for the day:
The Universe has a way of getting really bored of my stubborn streak,
While I hem and haw and analyze, and strategize, and collect my allies,
The Universe says, Enough already!
And tends to make the changes that I couldn’t make for myself,
in one fell swoop. And then we Both sigh in utter relief.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
Here is the question of the day from 3000 Questions About Me:
2361. Complete this thought: All roads lead to . . . ?
“Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion; it is not the expression of personality, but an escape from personality. But, of course, only those who have personality and emotions know what it means to want to escape from these things.” – T. S. Eliot
Welcome to poetry day on the blog. I believe that my readers here probably have bold, intriguing personalities and strong emotions. This is wonderful for living and being the fullness of life, but it is also a lot to encapsulate. Escape from yourself a little bit today, dear readers. Write a poem. Here is my poem for today:
I absorbed it all in this season,
The love, the laughter, the familiar sounds,
Of our family’s giddy banter.
I soaked it all in until I was satiated,
And sopping, and barely able to take in much more.
And now that you have all scattered back to your places,
I realize that I absorbed a new molecule of fond memories,
Into every one of my cells.
This is how an infinite love grows.
It just continually expands itself,
Into every direction that life takes you, my loves.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
Here is the question of the day from 3000 Questions About Me:
1641. What is your most used phrase?
Welcome to the last day of 2023. I like that this year ends on a Sunday. Perfection! Sunday is poetry day on the blog. What kind of poetry did you write and live in 2023? What kind of poetry do you hope to write, and to make in 2024? Here’s my last poem I will write this year. (Now it is time for you to go write yours . . . ):
“NEW YEAR”
Every ending is a new beginning
Every year has losing and winning
I find myself sitting here, widely grinning
Knowing that the earth still keeps spinning
As the veil we call time is quickly thinning,
Into a new precious year of our lives.
What will we make of this gift?
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
