As long as you're dancing, you can
Break the rules.
Sometimes breaking the rules is just
Extending the rules.
Sometimes there are no rules.
Oh Lord of melons, of mercy, though I am not ready, nor worthy, I am climbing towards you.
Mary OliverTag: prayer
I try to be good but sometimes
a person just has to break out and
act like the wild and springy thing
one used to be. It's impossible not
to remember wild an want it back.
The Morning Paper
Read one newspaper daily (the morning edition
is the best
for by evening you now that you at least
have lived through another day)
and let the disasters, the unbelievable
yet approved decisions
soak in.
I don't need to name the countries,
ours among them.
What keeps us from falling down, our faces
to the ground; ashamed, ashamed?
Tag: newspapers the-morning-paper
Sometimes I really believe it, that I am going to
save my life
a little.
Tag: life
The man who has many answers
is often found
in the theaters of information
where he offers, graciously,
his deep findings.
While the man who has only questions,
to comfort himself, makes music.
Tag: music questions answers comfort
I'd seen
their hoofprints in the deep
needles and knew
they ended the long night
under the pines...
I was thinking:
so this is how you swim inward,
so this is how you flow outward,
so this is how you pray.
(from poem, "Five A.M. in the Pinewoods")
It is no use thinking that writing of poems – the actual writing – can accommodate itself to a social setting, even the most sympathetic social setting of a workshop composed of friends. It cannot. The work improves there and often the will to work gets valuable nourishment and ideas. But, for good reasons, the poem requires of the writer not society or instruction, but a patch of profound and unbroken solitude.
Mary OliverTag: poetry
I have a little dog who likes to nap with me.
He climbs on my body and puts his face in my neck.
He is sweeter than soap.
He is more wonderful than a diamond necklace,
which can't even bark...
Tag: dogs
LITTLE DOGS RHAPSODY IN THE NIGHT
(PERCY THREE)
He puts his cheek against mine
and makes small, expressive sounds.
And when I'm awake, or awake enough
he turns upside down, his four paws
in the air
and his eyes dark and fervent.
Tell me you love me, he says.
Tell me again.
Could there be a sweeter arrangement?
Over and over
he gets to ask it.
I get to tell.
Tag: dogs
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