These pages contain items of poetry, some of which were created by myself.
As to my own poems, I'm not sharing them because I think they're wonderful or great. I didn't write them because I'm a poet, or because I wished to impress anyone.
I wrote them because I felt a certain way at a certain time, and this was how I chose to express those feelings.
I hope people might enjoy them.
If not, well... so I won't quit my day job. : )
There are also a handful of poems, written by actual poets, that I have found especially moving or meaningful throughout my life. I have included them here because they're simply worth sharing.
There is a hole that
is shaped like me and I am
that which fills that hole.
When I act it is
According to my nature
to act is to learn.
I shall not break
Until I am overcome
Then I shall break
Of all dark fate
and twisted dream
that ever I were lost to thee
Speak not of tempting honest fate
When oldest road brings you to me.
To give my sorrow's
gnawing end
I shall give all my dreams to thee
That in them you may to me wend.
When sleeping winds break dreamless seas.
Go as you must
with love and pain,
Still though in shadows you do walk
my shadow also walks with thee
When sleeping winds move we shall talk.
And there my time
with thee shall be,
Consoled in sleepless dreaming space,
I shall in days hot waking breathe,
The memory of your embrace.
I've got a paddle
without a boat
so I must swim.
I've got wings
but no feathers
so I must walk.
I've got shoes
but there's no road
so I must fly.
We all are parts of flame.
Some burn
some bright, some hot.
Some dim and glowing coals.
Some tinder
some ash.
Some of us are air
Some wood
or grass
or things I do not know.
Some are fires, great or small.
Some water, cooling,
Sand, limiting.
Earth, restraining, cradling.
If I pray, it is this:
I have seen that often,
one man or woman's light will burn
and others feed it, or bask in their glow.
And that is only one fire
for many people.
And mostly it is cold.
I pray and wish,
as I look at the fire in myself
incomplete,
not a blaze in it's own right,
For others to add to my flame.
And others to whom I may add mine.
For fuel and air and knowledge.
Whether great or small, we all have
that which we can lend another.
I pray for other fires.
For mine is not a fire to light the world.
I pray for the keeper of the stones,
the guy with the matches.
the gal with sparks,
The watcher, the raker.
The tinder, the kindling, the ash.
Yes, even the ash.
I pray for the boy scout, and the furnace builder.
The rake and handle.
The axe, the tree, the seed,
The stones that hold the blaze and keep it from the brush.
The bodies that are warmed,
and those who build, and keep, and bank the fire.
I pray for them all
That I may be part of a greater blaze,
Adding my own heat.
My own heart.
To other's hearts, their minds.
Till it is not my blaze, which would be small,
and the fire of one incomplete and tarnished soul,
but a star that shines beyond me,
and where I lack heat or fuel, or knowledge of building fires,
others are there, burning, keeping, putting out.
That together, we may kindle
a flame beyond ourselves,
and mayhap,
mayhap,
send candles out into the night.
I Wait
Cold doesn't matter
nor loneliness.
Ears turned up, I wait.
Don't mistake my demeanor
for unfriendliness, or hate
I'm listening over my heartbeat.
I don't know how long it's been...
I'm gray with dust on my face.
where once I was painted like wheat
or sun
when my soul was young
A stretch of the limbs, as I think I'm 'bout done.
I long for a taste
of what I've forgotten
and the turning seems long.
I'm not afraid of much,
but I'm afraid of forever.
I've borne every type of restlessness,
and itch.
I wait, for I know that my
waiting
soon
will be
done
I'm not as afraid of the unknown
as I fear a grey forever.
Everyone has
wants and needs.
Everybody
has desire.
To know the difference,
that is wisdom,
to face it is
the sacrifice
of iron.
Everybody
lives a lie, but
sometimes they
look up and see.
To know the lie for
what it is,
to face the music
pay the piper is
the sacrifice of iron.
All you know,
All you feel,
What's inside,
is only real.
Are you empty?
Are you home?
Can you hear me in your bones?
What's the difference,
if you're sleeping?
Hollow people,
empty weeping.
When you wake up,
face the morning,
never give up,
greet the dawn,
and the midnight
with your spirit,
that's the greatest
sacrifice of iron.
These are poems by other people that I enjoy or find meaningful. Please note, I'm not much of a poetry buff. I don't go out of my way to read it.
by William Ernest Henley
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
This poem, by William Ernest Henley is one of my favorites. This singular piece has moved me every time I've read it. Of all poetry I have read, I think this one poem has affected me the most.
By Rainer Maria Rilke
You darkness, that I come from,
I love you more than all the fires that fence in the world,
For the fire makes a circle of light for everyone,
And then no one outside learns of you.
But the darkness pulls in everything:
Shapes and fires, animals and myself,
How easily it gathers them!
Powers and people.
And it is possible a great energy
Is moving near me.
I have faith in nights.
My sister and friend, Wontolla shared this poem with me.
by Oriah Mountain Dreamer
It doesn't interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for
and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.
It doesn't interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon...
I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow
if you have been opened by life's betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.
I want to know if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.
I want to know if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us to
be careful
be realistic
remember the limitations of being human.
It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.
I want to know if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
“Yes.”
It doesn't interest me
to know where you live or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.
It doesn't interest me who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.
It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.
I want to know if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like the company you keep
in the empty moments.
© Oriah Mountain Dreamer, from the book The Invitation published by Harper San Francisco, 1999
http://www.oriahmountaindreamer.com/
Permission was not granted to reproduce this poem. I was unable to contact the author. I do notice that it is reproduced all over the internet, and the author makes mention that this is so. I will remove it upon request from author or publisher, of course. My reproduction of it here is intended as praise and flattery, and as a statement that this particular work is important, meaningful, and worthy of being placed into the hearts and minds of as many people as possible. I urge others to visit the author's website, and to consider purchasing her poetry and literature.
If anyone knows a way that I can contact the author and request formal permission to reproduce this poem, I would greatly appreciate it.