Poetry Friday

I've been reading a lot of  Billy Collins lately. And I mean a lot. Collins writes perfect poems to read when you don't have a lot of time and want to dip in occasionally. I have a copy of his Sailing Alone Around the Room on my dining room table. I pick it up when I have a moment, open to a random page and fall into Collins world. He's a poet that mixes humor and poignancy. When I read his work, I'm transported to a calmer more enjoyable world, normally his house. His focus on home resonates with me. I just love his work. But I probably shouldn't explain so much about it. As he points out in this poem, we often think too hard about poetry.

Introduction to Poetry
by Billy Collins

I ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light
like a color slide

or press an ear against its hive.

I say drop a mouse into a poem
and watch him probe his way out,

or walk inside the poem's room
and feel the walls for a light switch.

I want them to waterski
across the surface of a poem
waving at the author's name on the shore.

But all they want to do
is tie the poem to a chair with rope
and torture a confession out of it.

They begin beating it with a rubber hose
to find out what it really means.

Poetry Friday

Since I haven't been posting regularly, I haven't done a poetry friday in a while. So here we go. I have this poem saved on my computer at home. I struggle with it occasionally. It both energizes me and depresses me. Let me know what you think of it.


A Psalm of Life
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
(what the Heart of the Young Man Said to the Psalmist)

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
   "Life is but an empty dream!"
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
   And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!
   And the grave is not its goal;
"Dust thou art, to dust returnest,"
   Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
   Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each tomorrow
   Finds us farther than today.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
   And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
   Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world's broad field of battle,
   In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
   Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
   Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act, --act in the living Present!
   Heart within, and God o'erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us
   We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
   Footprints on the sands of time;

Footprints, that perhaps another,
   Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
   Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,
   With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing
   Learn to labor and to wait.

Early Poetry Friday

I know I'm early for Friday but I'm out of time for any real posting today. So instead you get a poem.

Go Placidly
I'm not sure who the author is. Anyone know?
[Edit: Thanks to Partly Cloudy Knitter I now know that the poem is called Desiderata (Latin of course) and was written by Max Ehrmann in 1927. Thanks for the enlightenment!]

Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
And remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly & clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull & ignorant;
they too have their story.

Avoid loud & aggressive persons,
they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain & bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.

Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing future of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity & disenchantment
it is perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue & loneliness.

Beyond wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees & the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labours & aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery & broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.

Be cheerful.

Strive to be happy.

Poetry Friday

A friend of mine has been posting Alice in Wonderland quotes as his facebook status and got me rereading the books. Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass are two of my favorite books of all times. And the Jabberwocky is one of the first poems that I remember reciting. I love the made up words (vorpal, snicker-snack). And of course the word chortle, which Lewis Carroll added to the English language. (no spell checker for this post) So without further ado, Jabberwocky.

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wade;

All mimsy were the borogoves,

And the mome raths outgrabe.

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!

The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!

Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun

The frumious Bandersnatch!"

He took his vorpal sword in hand:

Long time the manxome foe he sought --

So rested he by the Tumtum tree.

And stood awhile in thought.

And as in uffish thought he stood,

The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,

Came wiffling through the tulgey wood,

And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through

The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!

He left it dead, and with its head

He went galumphing back.

"And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?

Come to my arms, my beamish boy!

O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"

He chortled in his joy.

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;

All mimsy were the borogoves,

And the mome raths outgrabe.

The illustration is again the original John Tenniel from the books.

For Jeff

Ten years ago today, Jeff and I got married. When I think about the number of years it seems like forever, but it feels like it has gone by in a flash. It hasn't and last night Jeff and I sat down to think about all the things that have changed in our lives since that day, a full decade ago. I was 22 year old, fresh out of college and he was 24, young enough that we still had problems renting a car for our honeymoon. We have gone through multiple jobs, multiple homes, multiple returns to school, and many fabulous vacations. We've been together through thick and thin. And I love him.

I tried this morning to find a poem (since it is Poetry Friday) that told him everything I wanted to say. But nothing really works. Poetry tends to be about new love, new lust, attraction. Not ten-year old love. Not love that has lived together for almost 4000 days. Not love that has grown comfortable with itself. I thought about that on my way to work this morning. And came up with this. Not good, not really even workable, but my feelings nonetheless.

I was young,
certainly way too young
for walking down an aisle in white.
A fairy tale moment,
of Cinderella finding her prince.
Trembling with love,
and lust,
and promises that had yet been spoken.
And you were young,
young enough that you seemed unfazed
by words like "I do" and "forever".
Barely a man, in tux and tails.
I was white, and pearls, and heels
and I was in love.

I stood this evening in jeans,
t-shirt, flip-flops,
A smear of ink on one of my cheek.
Champagne replaced by coffee.
Momentous replaced by mundane,
A life of mornings and evenings
often the same.
Ten years on and the pearls are gone.
But without the momentous,
without the artifice,
without the heels and parties and thrills,
I find I love you far more than I did,
the day we married.
And I have to wonder if the fairy tales were false.
Love is not one instant flash of passion
Real love is a gathering of days.

Poetry Friday

It's Poetry Friday and I'm moving away from nonsense poems for a week and giving you one of my favorite serious poems. It's short I promise. It fits so perfectly with my ideas about immortality/leaving a legacy.

This is Ozymandias by Percy Bysshe Shelley.

I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
`My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!'
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away".

Poetry Friday

I'm a huge Lewis Carroll fan, which I'm sure I've mentioned before. So today's poem is one of his. This is from Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and is recited by Alice to the Caterpillar. I just love the nonsense of it. The image below the poem is a portion of one of the illustrations by Sir John Tenniel that graced the original work.

You Are Old, Father William by Lewis Carroll

'You are old, Father William,' the young man said,'
And your hair has become very white;
And yet you incessantly stand on your head -
Do you think, at your age, it is right?''

In my youth,' Father William replied to his son,'
I feared it might injure the brain;
But, now that I'm perfectly sure I have none,
Why, I do it again and again.''

You are old,' said the youth, 'as I mentioned before,
And have grown most uncommonly fat;
Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door -
Pray, what is the reason of that?''

In my youth,' said the sage, as he shook his grey locks,'
I kept all my limbs very supple
By the use of this ointment - one shilling the box -
Allow me to sell you a couple?''

You are old,' said the youth, 'and your jaws are too weak
For anything tougher than suet;
Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak -
Pray how did you manage to do it?''

In my youth,' said his father, 'I took to the law,
And argued each case with my wife;
And the muscular strength, which it gave to my jaw,
Has lasted the rest of my life.''

You are old,' said the youth, 'one would hardly suppose
That your eye was as steady as ever;
Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose -
What made you so awfully clever?''

I have answered three questions, and that is enough,'
Said his father; 'don't give yourself airs!
Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff?
Be off, or I'll kick you down stairs!'

Poetry Friday

Short and sweet poem for Friday. And one of my favorites.

This is Just to Say
William Carlos Williams

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

Poetry Fridays

Last Friday I mentioned a poem that my dad used to read to us called The Twins. Over the week I found it. Even if you are not a huge poetry fan, give this a quick read. It's a wonderfully funny poem.

Other than that I'm just ready to get through the day and start my weekend. I had diversity training all morning so this feels like kind of a vacation day already. I'll try to post over the weekend since I don't have a ton of huge plans. I'm leveling a Paladin so I guarentee there will be a lot of WoW in the next day or so. Other than that maybe some photography. I love quiet weekends!

And for your enjoyment. The Twins by Henry Sambrooke Leigh.

In form and feature, face and limb,
I grew so like my brother,
That folks got taking me for him,
And each for one another.

It puzzled all our kith and kin,
It reached a fearful pitch;
For one of us was born a twin,
Yet not a soul knew which.

One day, to make the matter worse,
Before our names were fixed,
As we were being washed by nurse,
We got completely mixed;

And thus, you see, by fate's decree,
Or rather nurse's whim,
My brother John got christened me,
And I got christened him.

This fatal likeness even dogged
My footsteps when at school,
And I was always getting flogged,
For John turned out a fool.

I put this question, fruitlessly,
To everyone I knew,
"What would you do, if you were me,
To prove that you were you?"

Our close resemblance turned the tide
Of my domestic life,
For somehow, my intended bride
Became my brother's wife.

In fact, year after year the same
Absurd mistakes went on,
And when I died, the neighbors came
And buried brother John.