Why poetry matters - The Conservative Woman

“I am reminded that when I was nine my father gave me a copy of Lord Macaulay’s Lays of Ancient Rome for Christmas. I had been tasked with peeling a pile of potatoes for the family meal (we were a large family) and had proclaimed to no one in particular: ‘I long for freedom!’ My father overheard this appeal and in his inscription to the book wrote ‘To Francis, who “longs for freedom”, from Daddy who is free from longings’.

#poetry

tail-feathers reblogged

julesofnature

The Storm Now through the white orchard my little dog romps, breaking the new snow with wild feet. Running here running there, excited, hardly able to stop, he leaps, he spins until the white snow is written upon in large, exuberant letters, a long sentence, expressing the pleasures of the body in this world. Oh, I could not have said it better – Mary Oliver

#mary oliver #poetry #dogs

tail-feathers

Last Night As I Was Sleeping

I dreamt—marvelous error!—

that I had a beehive

here inside my heart.

And the golden bees

were making white combs

and sweet honey

from my old failures.

—Antonio Machado

#Antonio Machado #poetry

tail-feathers reblogged

apoemaday

When People Ask How I'm Doing

by Rudy Francisco

I want to say, My depression is an angry deity, a jealous god, A thirsty shadow that rings my joy like a dishrag And makes juice out of my smile. I want to say, Getting out of bed has become a magic trick. I am probably the worst magician I know. I want to say, this sadness is the only clean shirt I have left and my washing machine has been broken for months, but I’d rather not ruin someone’s day with my tragic honesty so instead I treat my face like a pumpkin.

I pretend that it’s Halloween. I carve it into something acceptable. I laugh and I say, "I’m doing alright."

#poetry

tail-feathers reblogged

apoemaday

Snowy Night

by Mary Oliver

Last night, an owl in the blue dark tossed an indeterminate number of carefully shaped sounds into the world, in which, a quarter of a mile away, I happened to be standing. I couldn’t tell which one it was – the barred or the great-horned ship of the air – it was that distant. But, anyway, aren’t there moments that are better than knowing something, and sweeter? Snow was falling, so much like stars filling the dark trees that one could easily imagine its reason for being was nothing more than prettiness. I suppose if this were someone else’s story they would have insisted on knowing whatever is knowable – would have hurried over the fields to name it – the owl, I mean. But it’s mine, this poem of the night, and I just stood there, listening and holding out my hands to the soft glitter falling through the air. I love this world, but not for its answers. And I wish good luck to the owl, whatever its name – and I wish great welcome to the snow, whatever its severe and comfortless and beautiful meaning.

tail-feathers

More than anything poetry is what keeps me sane.

#mary oliver #poetry

tail-feathers

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

An untitled poem

First line: Two kinds of grace there are

#Johann Wolfgang von Goethe #poetry

tail-feathers reblogged

julesofnature

When it’s over, it’s over, and we don’t know any of us, what happens then. So I try not to miss anything. I think, in my whole life, I have never missed The full moon or the slipper of its coming back. Or, a kiss. Well, yes, especially a kiss. ~Mary Oliver, Swan: Poems and Prose Poems

#mary oliver #poetry