Back to the Past by Amanda Gorman

 

 

At times even blessings will bleed us.

There are some who lost their lives
& those who were lost from ours,

Who we might now re-enter,
All our someones summoned softly.

The closest we get to time travel
Is our fears softening,

Our hurts unclenching,
As we become more akin

To kin, as we return
To who we were

Before we actually were
Anything or anyone—

That is, when we were born unhating
& unhindered, howling wetly

With everything we could yet become.
To travel back in time is to remember

When all we knew of ourselves was love.

Love Came Down at Christmas by Christina Rosetti

 

Love came down at Christmas,
Love all lovely, love divine;
Love was born at Christmas,
Star and angels gave the sign.

Worship we the Godhead,
Love incarnate, love divine;
Worship we our Jesus:
But wherewith for sacred sign?

Love shall be our token,
Love shall be yours and love be mine,
Love to God and to all men,
Love for plea and gift and sign

Every day we are learning by Amanda Gorman - a very wise young lady

 

 

Every day we are learning.

How we live with essence, not ease.

How to move with haste, never hate.

How to leave this pain that is beyond us ― behind us.

Just like a skill or any art, we cannot possess hope without practicing it.

It is the most fundamental craft we demand of ourselves.

Call Us by Amanda Gorman

 

 

Grant us this day
Bruising the make of us.

At times over half of our bodies
Are not our own,

Our persons made vessel
For nonhuman cells.

To them we are
A boat of a being,

Essential.
A country,

A continent,
A planet.

A human
Microbiome is all the writhing forms on

& inside this body
Drafted under our life.

We are not me—
We are we.

Call us
What we carry.

& SO by Amanda Gorman - so young but so wise

 

It is easy to harp,
Harder to hope.

This truth, like the white-blown sky,
Can only be felt in its entirety or not at all.
The glorious was not made to be piecemeal.
Despite being drenched with dread,
This dark girl still dreams.
We smile like a sun that is never shunted.

Grief, when it goes, does so softly,
Like the exit of that breath
We just realized we clutched.

Since the world is round,
There is no way to walk away
From each other, for even then
We are coming back together.

Some distances, if allowed to grow,
Are merely the greatest proximities.

A little Kiwi poem for you ...

 

Remember this one??

 

I’m a little teapot
Short and stout
Here is my handle
(one hand on hip)
Here is my spout
(other arm out straight)

When I get all steamed up
Hear me shout
“Tip me over
and pour me out!”
(lean over toward spout)

 

Mr. Mistoffelees by T. S. Eliot - 1888-1965

 

You ought to know Mr. Mistoffelees!
The Original Conjuring Cat—
(There can be no doubt about that).
Please listen to me and don’t scoff. All his
Inventions are off his own bat.
There’s no such Cat in the metropolis;
He holds all the patent monopolies
For performing surprising illusions
And creating eccentric confusions.
     At prestidigitation
          And at legerdemain
     He’ll defy examination
          And deceive you again.
The greatest magicians have something to learn
From Mr. Mistoffelees’ Conjuring Turn.
Presto!
     Away we go!
          And we all say: OH!
               Well I never!
               Was there ever
               A Cat so clever
                    As Magical Mr. Mistoffelees!

He is quiet and small, he is black
From his ears to the tip of his tail;
He can creep through the tiniest crack
He can walk on the narrowest rail.
He can pick any card from a pack,
He is equally cunning with dice;
He is always deceiving you into believing
That he’s only hunting for mice.
     He can play any trick with a cork
          Or a spoon and a bit of fish-paste;
     If you look for a knife or a fork
          And you think it is merely misplaced—
You have seen it one moment, and then it is gawn!
But you’ll find it next week lying out on the lawn.
          And we all say: OH!
               Well I never!
               Was there ever
               A Cat so clever
                    As Magical Mr. Mistoffelees!

His manner is vague and aloof,
You would think there was nobody shyer—
But his voice has been heard on the roof
When he was curled up the fire.
And he’s sometimes been heard by the fire
When he was about on the roof—
(At least we all heard somebody who purred)
Which is incontestable proof
     Of his singular magical powers:
          And I have known the family to call
     Him in from the garden for hours,
          While he was asleep in the hall.
And not long ago this phenomenal Cat
Produced seven kittens right out of a hat!
          And we all say: OH!
               Well I never!
               Was there ever
               A Cat so clever
                    As Magical Mr. Mistoffelees!

Bridled Vows by Ian Duhig

 

 

 

I will be faithful to you, I do vow,
but not until the seas have all run dry
et cetera. Although I mean it now
I’m not a prophet and I will not lie.

To be your perfect wife, I could not swear;
I’ll love, yes; honour (maybe); won’t obey,
but will co-operate if you will care
as much as you are seeming to today.

I’ll do my best to be your better half,
but I don’t have the patience of a saint
and at you, not with you, I’ll sometimes laugh,
and snap too, though I’ll try to show restraint.

We might work out. No blame if we do not.
With all my heart, I think it’s worth a shot.

If I Can Stop One Heart From Breaking – Emily Dickinson

 

If I can stop one heart from breaking I shall not live in vain; If I can ease one life the aching, Or cool one pain, Or help one fainting robin Unto his nest again, I shall not live in vain.

Another winner from Amanda Gorman

 
 

Hymn for the Hurting

 

by Amanda Gorman

Everything hurts,
Our hearts shadowed and strange,
Minds made muddied and mute.
We carry tragedy, terrifying and true.
And yet none of it is new;
We knew it as home,
As horror,
As heritage.
Even our children
Cannot be children,
Cannot be.

Everything hurts.
It’s a hard time to be alive,
And even harder to stay that way.
We’re burdened to live out these days,
While at the same time, blessed to outlive them.

This alarm is how we know
We must be altered —
That we must differ or die,
That we must triumph or try.
Thus while hate cannot be terminated,
It can be transformed
Into a love that lets us live.

May we not just grieve, but give:
May we not just ache, but act;
May our signed right to bear arms
Never blind our sight from shared harm;
May we choose our children over chaos.
May another innocent never be lost.

Sea Fever by John Masefield

 

 

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,

And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;

And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,

And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking.

 

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide

Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;

A And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,

And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

 

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,

To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife;

And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,

And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.