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“What if the world is holding its breath – 
waiting for you to take the place that only you can fill?”
David Whyte

Why, in the middle of your busy life, would you pause to read poetry?

Because good poetry points us to what truly matters, which is why I use poetry so much in my work.  A good poem offers sanctuary, reminding us of the necessity, power and beauty of contemplation.  In a world hell-bent on filling space with activity and silence with noise, this is a subversive act.  So slow down, digest a poem, let it take you by the hand.  Allow yourself be touched, even changed.  Indeed, poetry has been know to save lives.  Nuff said.  Onward!

Image: Paul Cezanne, Still life, pitcher and fruit

October 2020 ~ The Facts of Life


Happy 14th Anniversary to Poem of the Month!
And a perfect poemto mark the occasion.  In gratitude to you,
poem lover.  Avec amour, always.  

The Facts of Life

That you were born
and you will die.

That you will sometimes love enough
and sometimes not.

That you will lie
if only to yourself.

That you will get tired.

That you will learn most from the situations
you did not choose.

That there will be some things that move you
more than you can say.

That you will live
that you must be loved.

That you will avoid questions most urgently in need of
your attention.

That you began as the fusion of a sperm and an egg
of two people who once were strangers
and may well still be.

That life isn’t fair.
That life is sometimes good
and sometimes better than good.

That life is often not so good.

That life is real
and if you can survive it, well,
survive it well
with love
and art
and meaning given
where meaning’s scarce.

That you will learn to live with regret.
That you will learn to live with respect.

That the structures that constrict you
may not be permanently constraining.

That you will probably be okay.

That you must accept change
before you die
but you will die anyway.

So you might as well live
and you might as well love.
You might as well love.
You might as well love.

By Pádraig Ó Tuama,
from Sorry For Your Troubles

For a lovely performance of this poem:
https://www.youtube.com/embed/q1dfk9NrVRM

By |September 30th, 2020|Tags: , |

September 2020 ~ Sun Moves


We are a denatured species, measuring what doesn’t matter, addicted
to our back-lit screens.  You reading this, however, are still awed
by expansive sky, brilliance of moon, miracle of boulders, life forms – like moss.
Pass it on, best you can, in every way possible.  All love to you.

Sun Moves

Overhead
and I measure the day
by the span of my hands

I do not understand
minutes, hours, or time
except in the movement of light

Sun shares its warmth
but I cannot keep it,
cannot truly own anything
outside my skin

I do not understand
budgets, deficits,
dollars, defense, deterrence

Sun goes down behind hills
and the night reminds me
that darkness brings stories,
that rest is right.

I do not understand
the endless, frantic dance
of lighted screens

I understand sleep
I understand dreams.

By Joseph Bruchac, of the Abenaki Nation; found on https://www.eco-poetry.org/
Copyrighted material; for educational/therapeutic purposes only.

By |August 31st, 2020|Tags: , |

August 2020 ~ After a Sleepless Night

After a Sleepless Night

After a sleepless night, worrying about the world
I stand in the whispering grass,
watching the mountains crouch
under their burden of sky.

The morning sun glides above the peaks
and the field is suddenly flooded
with turquoise light. A flock of redwings rise,

they turn together like a page of poetry.
I read between the lines
realize I am lonely and afraid.

I worry about the wars, the weather,
the end of our beautiful, broken world.
I see the way we can harden our hearts

when fear is what moves us.
Now the marsh hawk cruises the yellow reeds, she dives swiftly
and some soft-furred creature’s life is over.

For each of us, hauling our basket of dreams,
it is only one breath, one breath,
that divides this world, and the next.

What is there to do then but give thanks,
Offer praise and gratitude for the sweetness we’re allotted,
Fling open our burning hearts, and help each other.

By Elaine Sutton

By |August 1st, 2020|Tags: |

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Lucky’s Corner

lucky

A tasty morsel of poetic medicine from Lucky,
who now resides in the Spirit-World.  Down the hatch!

“To walk quietly
till the miracle
in everything speaks
is poetry.”

Mark Nepo