Evening Poetry, April 21

In honor of National Poetry Month, and Mary Oliver, our beloved national poet who passed away in January, I will be posting one of her poems each evening in April. I am hoping to follow in the footsteps of Sarah Clarkson and read a poem on Instagram Live in the evenings as well…Follow me on Instagram to tune in.

Look and See

This morning, at waterside, a sparrow flew

to a water rock and landed, by error, on the back

of an eider duck; lightly it fluttered off, aroused,

The duck, too, was not provoked, but, you might say, was

laughing.

This afternoon gull sailing over

our house was casually scratching

its stomach of white feathers with one

pink foot as it flew.

Oh Lord, how shining and festive is your gift to us, if we

only look, and see.

This poem can be found in the collection Why I Wake Early.

Evening Poetry, April 20

In honor of National Poetry Month, and Mary Oliver, our beloved national poet who passed away in January, I will be posting one of her poems each evening in April. I am hoping to follow in the footsteps of Sarah Clarkson and read a poem on Instagram Live in the evenings as well…Follow me on Instagram to tune in.

To Begin With, the Sweet Grass (This poem is in seven sections, so I’ve spread it out through the week.)

7.

What I loved in the beginning, I think, was mostly myself.

Never mind that I had to, since somebody had to.

That was many years ago.

Since then I have gone out from my confinements,

though with difficulty.

I mean the ones that thought to rule my heart.

I cast them out, I put them on the mush pile.

They will be nourishment somehow (everything is nourishment somehow or other).

And I have become the child of the clouds, and of hope.

I have become the friend of the enemy, whoever that is.

I have become older and, cherishing what I have learned,

I have become younger.

And what do I risk to tell you this, which is all I know?

Love yourself. Then forget it. Then, love the world.

This poem can be found in the collection Felicity.

For Holy Saturday

I wrote this poem several years ago as I attempted to imagine how the followers of Jesus might have been feeling after his death.

In Between

Where did you go

when you finished, exhaled?

Your last breath, a whisper,

brought madness to earth,

tore sky and ground. Time

stood still, dead walked.

Friends, stunned with your leaving,

stayed close to what remained

of you, your spirit unreachable.

We waited, broken, in silence

for what? We did not know.

A shroud of sorrow

bound us tightly.

We waited and wondered

where did you go?

by Kim Pollack © 2019

Evening Poetry, April 19

In honor of National Poetry Month, and Mary Oliver, our beloved national poet who passed away in January, I will be posting one of her poems each evening in April. I am hoping to follow in the footsteps of Sarah Clarkson and read a poem on Instagram Live in the evenings as well…Follow me on Instagram to tune in.

To Begin With, the Sweet Grass (This poem is in seven sections, so I’ve spread it out through the week)

6.

Let me ask you this.

Do you also think that beauty exists for some

fabulous reason?

And, if you have not been enchanted by this adventure–

your life–

what would do for you?

This poem can be found in the collection Evidence.

Evening Poetry, April 18

In honor of National Poetry Month, and Mary Oliver, our beloved national poet who passed away in January, I will be posting one of her poems each evening in April. I am hoping to follow in the footsteps of Sarah Clarkson and read a poem on Instagram Live in the evenings as well…Follow me on Instagram to tune in.

To Begin With, the Sweet Grass (This poem is in seven sections, so I’ve spread it out through the week.)

5.

We do one thing or another; we stay the same, or we

change.

Congratulations, if

you have changed.

This poem can be found in the collection Evidence.

April Poem

For April

Rain snow rain

wet slap on windows.

Winter slides away

with each bird

carrying hope

past my door.

Twigs and bits

of last year’s life

to build nests

and shelter dreams.

What have I learned

in all these springs?

Nothing is ever lost.

All is gathered

recycled

repurposed

pressed into service

made over again

made right again.

High in the apple tree

a robin sings.

Gradually, gaunt-faced guilt

goes into the ground.

And waiting like

a wide-eyed child

I see emerging

among the dead

a gift of green

riding through the rain

fragile but sure

because it is time

to come alive again.

Copyright 2019/by Kim Pollack

Evening Poetry, April 17

In honor of National Poetry Month, and Mary Oliver, our beloved national poet who passed away in January, I will be posting one of her poems each evening in April. I am hoping to follow in the footsteps of Sarah Clarkson and read a poem on Instagram Live in the evenings as well…Follow me on Instagram to tune in.

To Begin With, the Sweet Grass (I am spreading this poem, which is in seven sections, throughout the week.)

4.

Someday I am going to ask my friend Paulus,

the dancer, the potter,

to make me a begging bowl

which I believe

my soul needs.

And if I come to you,

to the door of your comfortable house

with unwashed clothes and unclean fingernails,

will you put something into it?

I would like to take this chance,

I would like to give you this chance.

This poem can be found in the collection Evidence.