From the category archives:
This poem was written for a Peace Project organized by Judy Fisk Lucas. I wrote it thinking of the flooding along the Mississippi a few years back, but it seems relevant every time another place falls to waters, like Nashville, just recently.
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Poetry arises out of the unknown and speaks to what we do know. ~ W.S. Merwin
Contemporary American poet W.S. Merwin thus affirms what philosopher-poet Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi penned eight centuries ago in his poem “Two Kinds of Intelligence”:
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Don’t go outside your house to see flowers.
My friend, don’t bother with that excursion.
Inside your body there are flowers.
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Today, like every other day, we wake up empty
and frightened. Don’t open the door to the study
and begin reading. Take down a musical instrument.
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Don’t think for a blue minute
peace lies in dreamy eyes of smiling Buddha
blinking across fields of pink blossoms.
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when faces called flowers float out of the ground
and breathing is wishing and wishing is having-
but keeping is downward and doubting and never
-it’s april(yes,april;my darling)it’s spring!
yes the pretty birds frolic as spry as can fly
yes the little fish gambol as glad as can be
(yes the mountains are dancing together)
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Poetry is an act of peace. Peace goes into the making of a poem as flour goes into the making of bread. ~ Pablo Neruda
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Sorting quickly through my stack of mail, among generic-looking bills, color flyers, and slick magazines, I stop at a plain white envelope – addressed in blue ink, in neat, medium-sized, left-leaning hand-printing – and open it first: a sweet Thank You note from my 15-year-old niece.
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I will be the gladdest thing
Under the sun!
I will touch a hundred flowers
And not pick one.
~ Edna St. Vincent Millay
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I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journey work of the stars,
And the pismire is equally perfect, and a grain of sand,
and the egg of the wren,
And the tree-toad is a chef-d’oeuvre for the highest,
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