Proverbs 18:24

There are those who condemn and those who work things out. 

There are those who walk away and those who stay.

And there is One, only One, who remains through everything,
Who never leaves at all.

Daffodils (William Wordsworth)

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 a 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. 

Note:  the flowers in the above pictures are actually jonquils, but they look like tiny daffodils, don't they?  The little girl is Aravis, lo, these many years ago...

A Psalm of Life by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

WHAT THE HEART OF THE YOUNG MAN SAID TO THE PSALMIST

TELL me not, in mournful numbers,
 Life is but an empty dream !
 — For the soul is dead that slumbers,
 And things are not what they seem.

 Life is real ! Life is earnest!
 And the grave is not its goal ;
 Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
 Was not spoken of the soul.

 Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
 Is our destined end or way ;
 But to act, that each to-morrow
 Find us farther than to-day.

 Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
 And our hearts, though stout and brave,
 Still, like muffled drums, are beating
 Funeral marches to the grave.

 In the world's broad field of battle,
 In the bivouac of Life,
 Be not like dumb, driven cattle !
 Be a hero in the strife !

 Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant !
 Let the dead Past bury its dead !
 Act,— act in the living Present !
Heart within, and God o'erhead !

 Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
 And, departing, leave behind us
 Footprints on the sands of time ;

 Footprints, that perhaps another,
 Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
 A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
 Seeing, shall take heart again.

 Let us, then, be up and doing,
 With a heart for any fate ;
 Still achieving, still pursuing,
 Learn to labor and to wait.

The Wayfarer by Stephen Crane

THE WAYFARER,
 Perceiving the pathway to truth,
 Was struck with astonishment.
 It was thickly grown with weeds.
 “Ha,” he said,
 “I see that none has passed here
 In a long time.”
 Later he saw that each weed
 Was a singular knife.
 “Well,” he mumbled at last,
 “Doubtless there are other roads.”

Psalm 2

Why do the heathen rage, and the people imagine a vain thing?

The kings of the earth set themselves, and the rulers take counsel together, against the Lord, and against his anointed, saying,

Let us break their bands asunder, and cast away their cords from us.

He that sitteth in the heavens shall laugh: theLord shall have them in derision.

Then shall he speak unto them in his wrath, and vex them in his sore displeasure.

Yet have I set my king upon my holy hill of Zion.

I will declare the decree: the Lord hath said unto me, Thou art my Son; this day have I begotten thee.

Ask of me, and I shall give thee the heathen for thine inheritance, and the uttermost parts of the earth for thy possession.

Thou shalt break them with a rod of iron; thou shalt dash them in pieces like a potter's vessel.

Be wise now therefore, O ye kings: be instructed, ye judges of the earth.

Serve the Lord with fear, and rejoice with trembling.

Kiss the Son, lest he be angry, and ye perish from the way, when his wrath is kindled but a little. Blessed are all they that put their trust in him.

from Romeo and Juliet

I got chocolate today, and the wrapper had a poem on it:

O! she doth teach the torches to burn bright.
It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night
Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear;
Beauty too rich for use for earth too dear!
So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows,
As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows.
The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand,
And, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand.
Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! 
For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.


--William Shakespeare

Magnetic Poems

For Christmas, the Warrior Poet gave me Magnetic Poetry and a new copy of The Princess Bride.  He makes me so happy.

Now my fridge is a poetry workshop.  Folks come from all corners of the house to compose their thoughts.  Sadly, two of LittleLa's inventions were lost the other day in an incident involving a broken solenoid and an impromptu waterfall.  So I am recording the family's poetry here to prevent further losses.  These are from all five of us, and I mostly cannot remember who wrote what.  The poems are all lower-case without punctuation because they are magnetic poems. :)

she is a summer night

thrive

imagine

dream

savoring the universe through garlic butter

make like a free-range chicken and wander

peace 

through 

sweet 

moist 

shade

behold 

a season 

for the elephant 

thick with memory

kiss that magic monkey ghost

a woman at home eats prosciutto

sings of sausage

shares vegetables

morning music

prairie born

lonely murmur

       cloud

       blossom 

soul

       flower

       star

follow me

my brother

together

we will ride

every noble horse

silly vinaigrette

bloomed in spring

fly

live

love

wish

laugh

listen

a bug

strange with sacred life

falls through tendrils of fragrant grass

withered in winter's wild frost

a tiny animal soul becomes cold and quiet

its cycle made full

be as pure rain in summer

Updated to add one I missed and one new poem:

then they walked around it
and followed in passion this tomato

but between that wind and I
there is only sunlight
and clear bright sky  

Wisdom

But where shall wisdom be found?

and where is the place of understanding?

Man knoweth not the price thereof;

neither is it found in the land of the living.

The depth saith, 

It is not in me:

And the sea saith, 

It is not with me.

It cannot be gotten for gold,

neither shall silver be weighed for the price thereof.

It cannot be valued with the gold of Ophir,

with the precious onyx,

or the sapphire.

The gold and the crystal cannot equal it:

and the exchange of it

shall not be

for jewels of fine gold.

No mention shall be made of coral

or of pearls:

for the price of wisdom is above rubies.

The topaz of Ethiopia shall not equal it,

neither shall it be valued with pure gold.

Whence then cometh wisdom?

and where is the place of understanding?

Seeing it is hid from the eyes of all living,

and kept close from the fowls of the air.

Destruction and death say,

We have heard the fame thereof with our ears.

God understandeth the way thereof, 

and he knoweth the place thereof.

For he looketh to the ends of the earth,

and seeth under the whole heaven:

to make the weight for the winds;

and he weigheth the waters by measure.

When he made a decree for the rain,

 and a way for the lightning of the thunder:

Then did he see it, and declare it;

he prepared it, yea, and searched it out.

And unto man he said,

Behold, the fear of the Lord,

that is wisdom;

and to depart from evil 

is understanding.

(Job 28:12-28)

Blow, Blow, Thou Winter Wind

Tomorrow we are reading the scene that contains this beautiful yet sad poem.

Wait on the Lord

	The LORD is my light and my salvation;          whom shall I fear? The LORD is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?
2	When the wicked, even mine enemies and my foes,          came upon me to eat up my flesh, they stumbled and fell.
3	Though a host should encamp against me,          my heart shall not fear: though war should rise against me, in this will I be confident.
4	One thing have I desired of the LORD,          that will I seek after; that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the LORD, and to inquire in his temple.
5	For in the time of trouble he shall hide me in his pavilion:          in the secret of his tabernacle shall he hide me; he shall set me up upon a rock.
6	And now shall mine head be lifted up          above mine enemies round about me: therefore will I offer in his tabernacle sacrifices of joy; I will sing, yea, I will sing praises unto the LORD.
7	Hear, O LORD, when I cry with my voice:          have mercy also upon me, and answer me.
8	When thou saidst, Seek ye my face;          my heart said unto thee, Thy face, LORD, will I seek.
9	Hide not thy face far from me;          put not thy servant away in anger: thou hast been my help; leave me not, neither forsake me, O God of my salvation.
10	When my father and my mother forsake me,          then the LORD will take me up.
11	Teach me thy way, O LORD,          and lead me in a plain path, because of mine enemies.
12	Deliver me not over unto the will of mine enemies:          for false witnesses are risen up against me, and such as breathe out cruelty.
13	I had fainted, unless I had believed          to see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living.
14	Wait on the LORD:          be of good courage, and he shall strengthen thine heart: wait, I say, on the LORD.

Psalm 27

The Poet's Pen

Lovers and madmen have such seething brains,
Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend
More than cool reason ever comprehends.
The lunatic, the lover and the poet
Are of imagination all compact:
One sees more devils than vast hell can hold,
That is, the madman: the lover, all as frantic,
Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt:
The poet's eye, in fine frenzy rolling,
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven;
And as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen
Turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation and a name.
Such tricks hath strong imagination,
That if it would but apprehend some joy,
It comprehends some bringer of that joy;
Or in the night, imagining some fear,
How easy is a bush supposed a bear!

--Shakespeare (A Midsummer Night's Dream)

NOT, I’ll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee;

Not untwist—slack they may be—these last strands of man

In me ór, most weary, cry I can no more. I can;

Can something, hope, wish day come, not choose not to be.

But ah, but O thou terrible, why wouldst thou rude on me

Thy wring-world right foot rock? lay a lionlimb against me? scan

With darksome devouring eyes my bruisèd bones? and fan,

O in turns of tempest, me heaped there; me frantic to avoid thee and flee?


Why? That my chaff might fly; my grain lie, sheer and clear.

Nay in all that toil, that coil, since (seems) I kissed the rod,

Hand rather, my heart lo! lapped strength, stole joy, would laugh, chéer.

Cheer whom though? the hero whose heaven-handling flung me, fóot tród

Me? or me that fought him? O which one? is it each one? That night, that year

Of now done darkness I wretch lay wrestling with (my God!) my God.


-Gerard Manley Hopkins

What is Poetry?

"To this extent poetry is a way of knowledge. It cannot be trusted always to bring us close to truth itself, but it can be trusted to show us the way the world is seen and felt by people created in God's image; fallen, yes; in error about the way things really are, yes; but human still and deserving of our understanding, our sympathy and our compassion."

--James Sire, _How to Read Slowly_

A Taste of the Warrior Poet's Offerings

My dear husband wrote this poem as a Christmas present for me, and since today I am alternately throwing him under the bus and praising him to high heaven, I thought I would share it. This poem makes me embarrassed, but here goes:

The Pedestal Is For Your Gray Matter

The sunrise comes and sunset goes
Tides always have their ebbs & flows
It is tough to quantify how much it grows
Or predicting how much the spring wind blows

Perpetually featured, predominantly
Is the feature you use so brilliantly
I marvel at times how preponderantly
Your mind is used intelligently

It may sound odd but it’s very true
When I compare our brains it makes me blue
Some may question this union of two
But at least I was smart enough to marry you

So just to finally set the record straight
I enjoy all the thoughts that you create
You’ve never been a Petruchio’s Kate
Or one who might too easily capitulate

I will admit to you in all actuality
I revel in its fine functionality
Proud you’ve never needed to alter reality
Thankful you tolerate my abnormality

Fish gotta swim and birds gotta fly
Girls need chocolate and guys need pie
One thing is certain and I can’t deny:
I will love your big brain ‘til the day I die

Christmas by George Herbert

All after pleasures as I rode one day,
My horse and I both tired, body and mind,
With full cry of affections quite astray,
I took up in the next inn I could find.

There, when I come, whom found I but my dear--
My dearest Lord; expecting till the grief
Of pleasures brought me to Him, ready there
To be all passengers' most sweet relief?

O Thou, whose glorious yet contracted light
Wrapt in night's mantle, stole into a manger;
Since my dark soul and brutish is Thy right,
To man, of all beasts be not Thou a stranger;

Furnish and deck my soul, that Thou mayst have
A better lodging than a rack or grave.
The shepherds sing; and shall I silent be?
My God, no hymn for Thee?
My soul's a shepherd too; a flock it feeds
Of thoughts and words and deeds.
The pasture is Thy word, the streams Thy grace,
Enriching every place.

Shepherd and flock shall sing, and all my powers
Outsing the daylight hours.
Then we will chide the sun for letting night
Take up his place and right:
We sing one common Lord; wherefore He should
Himself the candle hold.

I will go searching till I find a sun
Shall stay till we have done;
A willing shiner, that shall shine as gladly
As frost-nipt suns look sadly.
Then we will sing and shine all our own day,
And one another pay.

His beams shall cheer my heart, and both so twine,
Till e'en his beams sing and my music shine.

Guest Blogger: Cricket on the Shore

A poem in blank verse written by Aravis

Beneath an overhanging cliff, the shore
Stood empty, quiet, and devoid of life.
A cricket chirped inside the nearby wood.
A boat slid onto crunching rocks and sand.
Another followed. Several men got out
And quietly conferred there on the beach.
Two men paced off a section of the shore.
The others took their places at the ends.
Two heavy, ornate pistols fiercely flashed
As they were loaded, and the duel began.
The cricket heard two shots, and then a crack.
A bullet struck an overhanging branch,
Which fell beside him. One man dropped his gun.
The first two helped him up. The cricket watched
As all four boarded boats again and rowed
To where they came from, leaving him alone –
A cricket on the narrow shore on which
Two great men – Hamilton and Aaron Burr –
Had fought their duel, and history was made.

The Charge of the Light Brigade

We dearly love the poem "In Flanders Fields" as a Memorial Day tribute to fallen soldiers, but this year Allie suggested that we post "The Charge of the Light Brigade" and I liked her suggestion. To me, this poem represents the courage, loyalty and sacrifice of brave men and women that die in service to their country, as well as the grave responsibility placed on leaders to lead with wisdom and understanding, and the tragedy of war. May God bless our leaders and soldiers!

Half a league half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred:
'Forward, the Light Brigade!
Charge for the guns' he said:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.

'Forward, the Light Brigade!'
Was there a man dismay'd ?
Not tho' the soldier knew
Some one had blunder'd:
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do & die,
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volley'd & thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
Rode the six hundred.

Flash'd all their sabres bare,
Flash'd as they turn'd in air
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army while
All the world wonder'd:
Plunged in the battery-smoke
Right thro' the line they broke;
Cossack & Russian
Reel'd from the sabre-stroke,
Shatter'd & sunder'd.
Then they rode back, but not
Not the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
While horse & hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came thro' the jaws of Death,
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.

When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wonder'd.
Honour the charge they made!
Honour the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred!

--Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1854)

The Only Hope by Bebo Norman

I want to run, it's my nature to run
And I want to fight, it's my nature to fight
And I want to live, but you tell me to die

I have resolved that I'm much better off
In your hands than mine

I'm begging you to hold on tight
Begging you to take my life from me

I want a crumb, but you are a feast
I want a song, but you are a symphony
I want a star, but you're a galaxy

And I have resolved that I'm much better off
In what you have for me

I'm begging you to hold on tight
Begging you to take my life from me

So tell me you won't let go
Tell me you won't let go
Cause you are the only hope for me

Pie in the Sky

oh dear
i fear
that i
can't fly
but if
you sniff
you soar
for more
more what?
a glut
the sky
is pie
and i
know why
because
of fuzz
that flies
and cries
and sighs
and dies
and then
the jinn
comes through
the slough
and takes
and bakes
the pie.

(This is a cooperative poem by Aravis and me-- we switched off composing lines. It was fun!)

New Eyes

Aravis posted a poem.