I have had a busy day today with work and I have a busy weekend with work as well but I am hoping for some reading time as well.
My chosen poem this week is by American writer and designer Edith Wharton born Edith Newbold Jones (1862-1937).
Patience
PATIENCE and I have traveled hand in hand So many days that I have grown to trace The lines of sad, sweet beauty in her face, And all its veiled depths to understand.
Not beautiful is she to eyes profane; Silent and unrevealed her holy charms; But, like a mother's, her serene, strong arms Uphold my footsteps on the path of pain.
I long to cry, - her soft voice whispers, "Nay!" I seek to fly, but she restrains my feet; In wisdom stern, yet in compassion sweet, She guides my helpless wanderings, day by day.
O my Beloved, life's golden visions fade, And one by one life's phantoms joys depart; They leave a sudden darkness in the heart, And patience fills their empty place instead.
My chosen poem today is by the poet Ann Gray (1946).
Love Listen
Let's love, listen, take time when time is all we have. Let's be unafraid to be kind, learn to disregard the bad if the good outweighs it daily. Let's make a gift of silence, the day's hushing into dark, and when we hold each other let's always be astonished we are where we want to be. Let's hope to age together, but if we can't, let's promise now to remember how we shone when we were at our best, when we were most ourselves.
I hope everyone has some fun plans for the weekend.
My chosen poem this week is by the American poet, essayist and translator Jane Hirshfield (1953).
August Day
You work with what you are given - today I am blessed, today I am given luck.
It takes the shape of a dozen ripening fruit trees, a curtain of pole beans, a thicket of berries. It takes the shape of a dozen empty hours.
In them is neither love nor love's muster of losses, in them is no chance for harm or for good. Does even my humanness matter? A bear would be equally happy, this August day, fat on the simple sweetness plucked between thorns.
There are some who may think, "how pitiful, how lonely." Others must murmer, "How lazy."
I agree with them all: pitiful, lonely, lazy. Lost to the earth and to heaven, thoroughly drunk on its whiskeys, I wander my kingdom.
I hope everyone has some fun plans for the weekend.
My chosen poem today is by the Anglo-Irish poet and Poet Laureate of the United Kingdom from 1968 until his death in 1972, Cecil Day-Lewis (1904-1972). He also wrote mystery stories under the name Nicholas Blake.
Walking Away
It is eighteen years ago, almost to the day - A sunny day with leaves just turning, The touch-lines new-ruled - since I watched you play Your first game of football, then like a satellite Wrenched from its orbit, go drifting away
Behind a scatter of boys. I can see You walking away from me towards the school With the pathos of a half-fledged thing set free Into a wilderness, the gait of one Who finds no path where the path should be.
That hesitant figure, eddying away Like a winged seed loosened from its parent stem, Has something I never quite grasp to convey About nature's give-and-take - the small, the scorching Ordeals which fire one's irresolute clay.
I have had worse partings, but none that so Gnaws at my mind still. Perhaps it is roughly Saying what God alone could perfectly show - How selfhood begins with a walking away, And love is proved in the letting go.
I hope everyone has had a good week and is looking forward to the weekend.
My chosen poem this week is by one of my favourites, Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-1894).
Escape at Bedtime
The lights from the parlour and kitchen shone out Through the blinds and the windows and bars; And high overhead and all moving about, There were thousands of millions of stars. There ne'er were such thousands of leaves on a tree, Nor of people in church or the Park, As the crowds of the stars that looked down upon me, And that glittered and winked in the dark.
The Dog, and the Plough, and the Hunter, and all, And the star of the sailor, and Mars, There shone in the sky, and the pail by the wall Would be half full of water and stars. They saw me at last, and they chased me with cries, And they soon had me packed into bed; But the glory kept shining and bright in my eyes, And the stars going round in my head.
I have some fabulous book plans for the weekend so I hope you all do as well.
My chosen poem this week is by the English writer Virginia Woolf (1882-1941). Now I will be honest, I’m not over fond of Virginia Woolf as I just don’t seem to get on with her writing style but I do love this poem.
Let Us Go, Then, Exploring
Let us go, then exploring This summer morning, When all are adoring The plum blossom and the bee. And humming and hawing Let us ask of the starling What he may think On the brink Of the dustbin whence he picks Among the sticks Combings of scullion's hair. What's life, we ask; Life, Life, Life! cries the bird As if he had heard.