Deep thoughts. And some shallow ones.
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As National Poetry Month closes, I am noticing how, more than ever, I have been turning to poetry to ground my mind, orient my heart, and clean the lens of perception in these disorienting and frightening times.
"What is the color of joy?"
...and a "Why"
(Originally published July 18, 2020)
…with all this going on?
The Subject Tonight is Love It happens all the time in heaven And some day It will happen Again on earth That men and women who are married And men and men who are Lovers, And women and women Who give each other Light, Often will get down on their knees And while so tenderly Holding their lover’s hand, With tears in their eyes, Will sincerely speak, saying, ‘My dear, How can I be more loving to…
(Xanadu's yeasty one)
‘The lines of a poem are speaking to each other, not you to them or they to you.’ (Mary Ruefle, Madness, Rack and Honey)
(a poem)
(Sorry about the old preface to new post)
