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ADAGIO_CON_BRIO's Photo ADAGIO_CON_BRIO Posts: 11,819
2/6/14 9:23 P

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I still love poetry. I've been reading a lot of poetry from an anthology edited by Helen Vendler, so it's not a focus on any one poet.

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2/4/14 12:40 A

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I love poetry, esp Emily Dickinson.
I also liked ee cummings years ago.




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CMRAND54's Photo CMRAND54 Posts: 5,377
3/25/13 12:30 P

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Here's another spring classic:

by William Wordsworth

The Daffodils

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such jocund company:
I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils


Carol

Do I dare disturb the universe?

We must risk delight.


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LIBBYL1 Posts: 5,725
3/21/13 11:38 P

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how wonderful to remember that ee cummings poem..... and smile from the first mention of a perhaps hand.... even though where I am your spring signals us heading towards winter (fall or what we call autumn is a name rather than a noticeable season)

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CMRAND54's Photo CMRAND54 Posts: 5,377
3/20/13 3:09 P

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Had to share this one for spring:

e.e.cummings


Spring is like a perhaps hand
(which comes carefully
out of Nowhere)arranging
a window,into which people look(while
people stare
arranging and changing placing
carefully there a strange
thing and a known thing here)and

changing everything carefully

spring is like a perhaps
Hand in a window
(carefully to
and from moving New and
Old things,while
people stare carefully
moving a perhaps
fraction of flower here placing
an inch of air there)and

without breaking anything.




Carol

Do I dare disturb the universe?

We must risk delight.


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CMRAND54's Photo CMRAND54 Posts: 5,377
3/13/13 4:12 P

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Another terrific Pig poem!

Carol

Do I dare disturb the universe?

We must risk delight.


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ADAGIO_CON_BRIO's Photo ADAGIO_CON_BRIO Posts: 11,819
3/13/13 12:20 P

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The Sow Piglet's Escapes

When the little sow piglet squirmed free,
Gus and I ran her all the way down to the swamp
and lunged and floundered and fell full-length
on our bellies stretching for her, and got her,
and lay there, all three shining with swamp slime,
she yelping, I laughing, Gus gasping and gasping.
It was then I knew he would die soon.
She made her second escape on the one day
when she was big enough to dig an escape hole
and still small enough to squeeze through it.
Every day I took a bucket of meal up to her plot
of rooted-up ground in the woods, until
one day there she stood, waiting for me,
the wild beast evidently all mealed out of her.
She trotted over and let me stroke her back
and, dribbling corn down her chin, put up her little worried face
as if to remind me not to forget to recapture her,
though, really, a pig's special alertness to death
ought to have told her: in Sheffield the dolce vita
leads to the Lyndonville butcher. When I seized her
she wriggled hard and cried oui oui oui all the way home.


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I love this little pig with her worries and concerns. I also like the rather bumptious juxtaposition of puns and allusions and death....Disquieting, certainly, but in the way of very good poetry.

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ADAGIO_CON_BRIO's Photo ADAGIO_CON_BRIO Posts: 11,819
3/13/13 12:18 P

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Deborah,
Thank you for posting that wonderful poem. I, too, like Galway Kinnell very much.
I'm going to post another one by Galway Kinnell in my next post.


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CMRAND54's Photo CMRAND54 Posts: 5,377
3/11/13 4:25 P

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Great poem. I'm from Iowa, so I appreciate sows.

Carol

Do I dare disturb the universe?

We must risk delight.


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CARIOLA's Photo CARIOLA Posts: 2,705
3/10/13 1:44 P

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Hi, everyone. I'm not new to Natalie, but I'm new to this group--glad I found you! Here's a poem I love by one of my favorite poets, Galway Kinnell:


ST FRANCIS AND THE SOW

The bud
stands for all things,
even those things that don't flower,
for everything flowers, from within, of self-blessing;
though sometimes it is necessary
to reteach a thing its loveliness,
to put a hand on its brow
of the flower
and retell it in words and in touch
it is lovely
until it flowers again from within, of self-blessing;
as St. Francis
put his hand on the creased forehead
of the sow, and told her in words and in touch
blessings of earth on the sow, and the sow
began remembering all down her thick length,
from the earthen snout all the way
through the fodder and slops to the spiritual curl of the tail,
from the hard spininess spiked out from the spine
down through the great broken heart
to the blue milken dreaminess spurting and shuddering
from the fourteen teats into the fourteen mouths sucking
and blowing beneath them:
the long, perfect loveliness of sow.

~Deborah

****************
"The principle is competing against yourself. It's about self-improvement, about being better than you were the day before." (Steve Young)

"There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so." (Hamlet, 2.2.250)


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CMRAND54's Photo CMRAND54 Posts: 5,377
1/26/13 10:31 A

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I am always trying:

"to come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief."

I spoil today by imagining the traumas of tomorrow.

Carol

Do I dare disturb the universe?

We must risk delight.


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EXOTEC's Photo EXOTEC Posts: 2,908
1/25/13 3:54 P
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How I love the line...

"I rest in the grace of the world, and am free."



...the problem with people these days is
they've forgotten we're really just animals ...
(attributation forgotten)

We did not create the web of life; we are but a strand in it.
~Chief Seattle

We don't have souls. We ARE souls. We have bodies.
~C.S. Lewis


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CMRAND54's Photo CMRAND54 Posts: 5,377
1/24/13 2:39 P

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A brief poem for the season:

A Winter Morning

A farmhouse window far back from the highway
speaks to the darkness in a small, sure voice.
Against this stillness, only a kettle’s whisper,
and against the starry cold, one small blue ring of flame.

Ted Kooser


Carol

Do I dare disturb the universe?

We must risk delight.


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CMRAND54's Photo CMRAND54 Posts: 5,377
1/23/13 6:54 P

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Here is a Yeats poem I like:

THE FIDDLER OF DOONEY

When I play on my fiddle in Dooney,
Folk dance like a wave of the sea;
My cousin is priest in Kilvarnet,
My brother in Mocharabuiee.
I passed my brother and cousin:
They read in their books of prayer;
I read in my book of songs
I bought at the Sligo fair.
When we come at the end of time
To Peter sitting in state,

He will smile on the three old spirits,
But call me first through the gate;
For the good are always the merry,
Save by an evil chance,
And the merry love the fiddle,
And the merry love to dance:
And when the folk there spy me,
They will all come up to me,
With "Here is the fiddler of Dooney!"
And dance like a wave of the sea.

William Butler Yeats


Carol

Do I dare disturb the universe?

We must risk delight.


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CMRAND54's Photo CMRAND54 Posts: 5,377
1/22/13 4:18 P

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I love this forum. I'm meeting some new poets, and enjoying some wonderful verse. Here is one I'd like to share:

The Peace of Wild Things

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

Wendell Berry


Carol

Do I dare disturb the universe?

We must risk delight.


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1SALMON1's Photo 1SALMON1 SparkPoints: (20,883)
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1/20/13 5:31 P

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Natalie - thanks for noticing the similarity between the Kingsnorth poem and the Yeats poem. I need to read some Yeats - haven't done that for a while...



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1/20/13 5:25 P

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Another offering - Mirlslav Holub was a Czech research scientist. I THINK this poem was written in English, not translated.

Brief reflection on an old woman with a barrow

Given an old woman and given a barrow.
I.e. the system old woman O and barrow B.

The system is moving from the paved yard Y to the corner C,
from the corner C to the Stone S, from the stone S
to the forest F, from the forest F to the horizon H.

The horizon H is the point where vision ends
and memory begins.

Nevertheless the system is moving
at a constant velocity v,
along a constant path,
through a constant destiny,
renewing its impulse and its meaning
from within itself.

A relatively independent system:
in landscapes from horizon to horizon
always just one old woman with a barrow.

And thus we have, once and for all,
that geodetic unit, the
unit of travel there and back, the
unit of autumn, the
unit Our daily bread, the
unit of wind and lowering sky, the
unit of the distance home, the
unit As we forgive them, the
unit of nightfall, the
unit of footsteps and dust, the
unit of life-fulfillment Amen.







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ADAGIO_CON_BRIO's Photo ADAGIO_CON_BRIO Posts: 11,819
1/20/13 9:29 A

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I had never heard of Paul Kingsnorth until this morning. Thank you, 1Salmon1. I can think of no better gift in this world than being given the name of a new poet. His voice strikes me as fresh and original and very compelling. If you read his lines aloud, you can hear his distinctive rhythms. He has taken the traditional poetic metres and shaken them about a bit: they are still there but rearranged in brilliant ways.

He also seems to be a part of the "tradition" of great poetry. "Vodahahue Mountain" strikes me as quite original and yet also a kind of contrapuntal response to Yeats's "Lake Isle of Innisifree"


"I WILL arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honey bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings.

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 gray,
I hear it in the deep heart's core."



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ADAGIO_CON_BRIO's Photo ADAGIO_CON_BRIO Posts: 11,819
1/20/13 9:21 A

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Vodadahue Mountain
by Paul Kingsnorth


When I feel tall I tell myself
that when the time comes I will know
as the elephant knows as the puma knows
and I will go
to Vodadahue Mountain
by the deep green inlet
by the deep green gorge
and in steady pain I will climb the basalt tower
and on the last ice step before the summit
unmarked by everything but air
I will be still for a long moment
and then let the white mouth of the snowcloud eat me
and there will be only this silence
and the trees at the foot will begin to feed
and I will have paid back all that I have owed
and there will be only this silence.

This poem won the 2012 Wenlock Poetry Prize

Edited by: ADAGIO_CON_BRIO at: 1/20/2013 (09:22)
Columbus, Ohio
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LIBBYL1 Posts: 5,725
1/20/13 5:14 A

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Reading this this morning made me feel like I was in "a commune of verse"...how wonderful to discover some new to me poems and rediscover old favourites! Thank you

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1SALMON1's Photo 1SALMON1 SparkPoints: (20,883)
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1/20/13 2:16 A

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And one from Paul Kingsnorth (very interesting person!)

Then we will go to Europe

Then we will go to Europe, go
to Venice or Berlin, and live like Rilke
in communes of verse and there,
maybe there, we will shake off this disease

which dulls our senses and dulls everything
and spreads like aluminium
and clings like a plastic bag in a high branch
like crude to a gannet's feathers. Or

if not in the cities then in the forests
or in red caves in red deserts
or around the craters of gunungs in the archipelago
or among sandstone towers in the valleys of the West.
Oh

I don't know. Just take me
somewhere it has not yet reached, somewhere
lonely and still real and let me
stand there and feel nothing
and lose the fear and, finally
breathe.




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1SALMON1's Photo 1SALMON1 SparkPoints: (20,883)
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1/20/13 2:09 A

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Heigh ho - I've been meaning to get here with a poem by Paul Kingsnorth, and find Mary Oliver!! Oh joy, so here is (maybe) my favorite of hers -

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.


Edited by: 1SALMON1 at: 1/20/2013 (02:16)

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ADAGIO_CON_BRIO's Photo ADAGIO_CON_BRIO Posts: 11,819
1/14/13 11:20 P

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I very much love that line:
"The world offers itself to your imagination"

Mary Oliver has many great poems. She writes in the great romantic tradition of poetry. Here's another one:

Breakage
BY MARY OLIVER

I go down to the edge of the sea.
How everything shines in the morning light!
The cusp of the whelk,
the broken cupboard of the clam,
the opened, blue mussels,
moon snails, pale pink and barnacle scarred—
and nothing at all whole or shut, but tattered, split,
dropped by the gulls onto the gray rocks and all the moisture gone.
It's like a schoolhouse
of little words,
thousands of words.
First you figure out what each one means by itself,
the jingle, the periwinkle, the scallop
full of moonlight.

Then you begin, slowly, to read the whole story.
Source: Poetry (August 2003).



Columbus, Ohio
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Leader: Spark People Eclectic Readers
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EXOTEC's Photo EXOTEC Posts: 2,908
1/14/13 12:32 P
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I was recently introduced to Mary Oliver's work by a blog on another Sparker's page. I love the simple lyrical quality of her poetry. I love how she sees the divine in the smallest things. Nature has always held a place of this sort with me, and I'm so glad to know I'm not alone in it. Of course, anything nature-oriented attracts me, but something about the way she sees the world is nothing short of magical to me.

I encourage any of you who don't already know this author to check a few of her many little books. The one I'm reading now is called, "Owls and Other Fantasies." Here is the first listing in that volume:

WILD GEESE

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting --
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

~ © 2003, Mary Oliver

...the problem with people these days is
they've forgotten we're really just animals ...
(attributation forgotten)

We did not create the web of life; we are but a strand in it.
~Chief Seattle

We don't have souls. We ARE souls. We have bodies.
~C.S. Lewis


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ADAGIO_CON_BRIO's Photo ADAGIO_CON_BRIO Posts: 11,819
1/7/13 11:32 P

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I am setting up some discussion boards for individual types of literature. Please feel free to start one of your own!

Columbus, Ohio
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Leader: Spark People Eclectic Readers
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*΄¨)•*¨) -:¦:- •*΄¨)•*΄)
•*΄) ♥ NATALIE ♥ =^..^= *΄)
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