poems

Evening Poetry, November 15

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Two Women in a Garden by The Metropolitan Museum of Art is licensed under CC-CC0 1.0

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The Laughter of Women
by Lisel Mueller

The laughter of women sets fire
to the Halls of Injustice
and the false evidence burns
to a beautiful white lightness

It rattles the Chambers of Congress
and forces the windows wide open
so the fatuous speeches can fly out

The laughter of women wipes the mist
from the spectacles of the old;
it infects them with a happy flu
and they laugh as if they were young again

Prisoners held in underground cells
imagine that they see daylight
when they remember the laughter of women

It runs across water that divides,
and reconciles two unfriendly shores
like flares that signal the news to each other

What a language it is, the laughter of women,
high-flying and subversive.
Long before law and scripture
we heard the laughter, we understood freedom.

You can find this poem in Alive Together.

Evening Poetry, November 14

KimLeave a comment
Photo by Jonas Thomann on Pexels.com

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Man, Woman, Moon
by Freya Manfred

Drink in the alien eyes of this wild one
you don't want to lose,
who doesn't want to lose you.
Make sure he can find his way home in the dark,
when he forgets who he is, or you forget,
because even after thirty years
you don't know what he's thinking
when he stares out the window at the snow
falling in veils past the moon--
the same moon you've been watching
every month since you were born.

You can find this poem in Swimming With a Hundred Year Old Snapping Turtle.

Evening Poetry, November 13

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Osdale River by Richard Dorrell is licensed under CC-BY-SA 2.0

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Mysteries, Yes
by Mary Oliver

Truly, we live with mysteries too marvelous
   to be understood.

How grass can be nourishing in the
   mouths of the lambs.
How rivers and stones are forever
   in allegiance with gravity
      while we ourselves dream of rising.
How two hands touch and the bonds will
   never be broken.
How people come, from delight or the
   scars of damage,
to the comfort of a poem.

Let me keep my distance, always, from those
   who think they have the answers.

Let me keep company always with those who say
   “Look!” and laugh in astonishment,
   and bow their heads.

You can find this poem in Evidence.

Evening Poetry, November 12

KimLeave a comment
Autumn Fields near Frilsham by Pam Brophy is licensed under CC-BY-SA 2.0

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VI (from 1979)
by Wendell Berry

What stood will stand, though all be fallen,
The good return that time has stolen,
Though creatures groan in misery,
Their flesh prefigures liberty
To end travail and bring to birth
Their new perfection in new earth.
At word of that enlivening
Let the trees of the woods all sing
And every field rejoice, let praise
Rise up out of the ground like grass.
What stood, whole in every piecemeal
Thing that stood, will stand though all
Fall--field and woods and all in them
Rejoin the primal Sabbath's hymn.

You can find this poem in A Timbered Choir: The Sabbath Poems 1979-1997.

Evening Poetry, November 11

KimLeave a comment 
Autumn Song
by Dante Gabriel Rossetti

Know'st thou not at the fall of the leaf
How the heart feels a languid grief
Laid on it for a covering,
And how sleep seems a goodly thing
In Autumn at the fall of the leaf?

And how the swift beat of the brain
Falters because it is in vain,
In Autumn at the fall of the leaf
Knowest thou not? and how the chief
Of joys seems—not to suffer pain?

Know'st thou not at the fall of the leaf
How the soul feels like a dried sheaf
Bound up at length for harvesting,
And how death seems a comely thing
In Autumn at the fall of the leaf?

You can find this poem on the Poetry Foundation website.

Evening Poetry, November 10

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New path. by Richard Webb is licensed under CC-BY-SA 2.0

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For a New Beginning
by John O'Donohue

In out-of-the-way places of the heart,
Where your thoughts never think to wander,
This beginning has been quietly forming,
Waiting until you were ready to emerge.

For a long time it has watched your desire,
Feeling the emptiness growing inside you,
Noticing how you willed yourself on,
Still unable to leave what you had outgrown.

It watched you play with the seduction of safety
And the gray promises that sameness whispered,
Heard the waves of turmoil rise and relent,
Wondered would you always live like this.

Then the delight, when your courage kindled,
And out you stepped onto new ground,
Your eyes young again with energy and dream,
A path of plenitude opening before you.

Though your destination is not yet clear
You can trust the promise of this opening;
Unfurl yourself into the grace of beginning
That is at one with your life's desire.

Awaken your spirit to adventure;
Hold nothing back, learn to find ease in risk;
Soon you will home in a new rhythm,
For your soul senses the world that awaits you.

You can find this poem in To Bless The Space Between Us: A Book of Blessings.

Evening Poetry, November 9

KimLeave a comment
Ox Cart (1935u20131942) by Wilbur by National Gallery of Art is licensed under CC-CC0 1.0

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Ox-Cart Man 
by Donald Hall

In October of the year,
he counts potatoes dug from the brown field,   
counting the seed, counting   
the cellar’s portion out,   
and bags the rest on the cart’s floor.

He packs wool sheared in April, honey
in combs, linen, leather   
tanned from deerhide,   
and vinegar in a barrel
hooped by hand at the forge’s fire.

He walks by his ox’s head, ten days
to Portsmouth Market, and sells potatoes,   
and the bag that carried potatoes,
flaxseed, birch brooms, maple sugar, goose   
feathers, yarn.

When the cart is empty he sells the cart.   
When the cart is sold he sells the ox,   
harness and yoke, and walks
home, his pockets heavy
with the year’s coin for salt and taxes,

and at home by fire’s light in November cold   
stitches new harness
for next year’s ox in the barn,
and carves the yoke, and saws planks   
building the cart again.

You can find this poem in The Selected Poems of Donald Hall and the children's book Ox-Cart Man illustrated by Barbara Cooney.

Evening Poetry, November 8

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View over ancient hill-fort by Lairich Rig is licensed under CC-BY-SA 2.0
Hope
by Lisel Mueller

It hovers in dark corners
before the lights are turned on,
it shakes sleep from its eyes
and drops from mushroom gills,
it explodes in the starry heads
of dandelions turned sages,
it sticks to the wings of green angels
that sail from the tops of maples.

It sprouts in each occluded eye
of the many-eyed potato,
it lives in each earthworm segment
surviving cruelty,
it is the motion that runs
from the eyes to the tail of a dog,
it is the mouth that inflates the lungs
of the child that has just been born.

It is the singular gift
we cannot destroy in ourselves,
the argument that refutes death,
the genius that invents the future,
all we know of God.

It is the serum which makes us swear
not to betray one another;
it is in this poem, trying to speak.

 You can find this book in Alive Together.

Evening Poetry, November 7

KimLeave a comment

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Meigs Falls during Autumn by National Park Service is licensed under CC-CC0 1.0
November
by William Cullen Bryant

Yet one smile more, departing, distant sun!
One mellow smile through the soft vapory air,
Ere, o'er the frozen earth, the loud winds run,
Or snows are sifted o'er the meadows bare.
One smile on the brown hills and naked trees,
And the dark rocks whose summer wreaths are cast,
And the blue gentian flower, that, in the breeze,
Nods lonely, of her beauteous race the last.
Yet a few sunny days, in which the bee
Shall murmur by the hedge that skirts the way,
The cricket chirp upon the russet lea,
And man delight to linger in thy ray.
Yet one rich smile, and we will try to bear
The piercing winter frost, and winds, and darkened air.

You can find this poem in Poems. Complete in One Volume.

Evening Poetry, November 6

KimLeave a comment
Photo by Reynaldo #brigworkz Brigantty on Pexels.com
Moon Tonight
by Gwendolyn Bennet

Moon tonight,
Beloved . . .
When twilight
Has gathered together
The ends
Of her soft robe
And the last bird-call
Has died.
Moon tonight—
Cool as a forgotten dream,
Dearer than lost twilights
Among trees where birds sing
No more.

Find this poem on Poets.org.