tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-496662801309805102024-03-19T00:22:13.267-04:00Not enough devotion"There is little enough devotion in the world that we should be glad for it in whatever form it appears, and never mock it, or underestimate its depths."
- Mark DotyGretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936335097197286933noreply@blogger.comBlogger271125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49666280130980510.post-17696671303064878042020-03-22T21:34:00.000-04:002020-03-22T21:34:28.028-04:00Both, andTrying to maintain some sense of normalcy in the middle of nothing normal means that I'm attempting blogging again. I like the idea of having a space to put my thoughts out where not everyone I know is seeing them. I like having a designated space to process my thoughts. <br />
<br />
Today was a good day because I did not have any panic attacks. I felt more in control of things that I have since this whole thing started. Part of that was because we went over to my parent's house and spent some time outside with my dad. Part of that was seeing my mom in person, although from the designated six feet away while she stood in the doorway and the kids and I stood outside. You don't realize how much you miss what was once such an everyday thing.<br />
<br />
<b>This is hard.</b> And I knew it would be, but I didn't know how hard. I didn't know how much my mood would fluctuate on a daily (hourly) basis. I didn't know how difficult it would be to keep focused on things other than work. To find things to do when I suddenly had all the time in the world and nowhere to be other than home.<br />
<br />
On one hand, there's the push to be productive. To clean the whole house, to do all fo the things that I've been putting off since we moved (yes, there are still boxes that are unpacked over a year later). But on the other hand, <b>I have to remember to give myself (and others) grace during this time.</b><br />
<br />
It's funny to me that this entire process feels a lot like grieving. Grieving for what once was and what feels like it might never be again. I'm anxious for this all to be over, but terrified of what is to come. I don't know that I want to focus on what's outside this time and this house because it is so unpredictable. I used to feel that a certain amount of my life was in my control. If I behaved well enough or prayed hard enough then I would be able to make sense of it. Then my brother died and everything changed. <b> I realized that I no longer had any control over anything and I never did. </b> And that is what is terrifying about all of this. The thought that the normal we knew - that we could drive to the grocery store and buy milk and eggs; that I would wake up on a workday and go to work - is gone and never was all that normal.<br />
<br />
So what does all of this mean? It means that I have to accept that I can't control things. I have to accept the mindset that I was reading about the other day of <b>both, and</b>. The idea that things don't have to be either/or but they can be both, and. Both terrifying and grounding. Both overwhelming and peaceful. Both happening so fast and happening so slowly. <b>Not either/or but both, and. </b>Not either I have control or things are awful. But that things can be both out of my control and okay. That the things I thought I knew as normal have to change. That I have to allow myself to be all of myself right now - vulnerable, anxious, terrified, overwhelmed, loving, frustrated, caring - both, and. And realize that God is always there in that and, even if it doesn't always feel like it.Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936335097197286933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49666280130980510.post-80438099439423021182013-09-29T22:45:00.000-04:002013-09-29T22:45:04.318-04:00My fall to do list<br />
<ul>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.828125px;">bake pumpkin cookies (raisin for me, chocolate chip for Andrew)</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.828125px;">make crockpot applesauce</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.828125px;">make chili</span></span></li>
<li><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.828125px;">make corn chowder</span></span></li>
<li><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.828125px;">make a bunch of other recipes from my <a href="http://www.pinterest.com/melovecows/fall/">fall Pinterest board</a></span></span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.828125px;">pass out candy to trick or treaters</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.828125px;">make a fire in our fire pit and make smores</span></span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.828125px;">and possibly carve pumpkins<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://candycoatedshell.files.wordpress.com/2012/10/leaves1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="319" src="http://candycoatedshell.files.wordpress.com/2012/10/leaves1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image found <a href="http://candycoatedshell.files.wordpress.com/2012/10/leaves1.jpg">here</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></li>
</ul>
Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936335097197286933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49666280130980510.post-590118162792166512013-08-12T08:00:00.000-04:002013-08-12T08:00:07.982-04:00Weekly Mantra 8/12I think I'm going to try to come up with a mantra for each week, which should help keep me focused and motivated. Since this week is the first week of school my mantra for this week is:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;">CARPE THE HELL OUT OF THIS DIEM</span></div>
Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936335097197286933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49666280130980510.post-15355435544618161512013-08-10T21:07:00.000-04:002013-08-10T21:07:06.566-04:00Wrapping up summerThis has been a good summer. I feel like I've accomplished a lot while also taking the time to relax and rest so that I'm ready (though I never feel ready) for a new school year. This summer I:<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://wallzonehd.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/04/Summer-Sunset-Wallpaper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="http://wallzonehd.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/04/Summer-Sunset-Wallpaper.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image from <a href="http://wallzonehd.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/04/Summer-Sunset-Wallpaper.jpg">here</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<ul>
<li>taught four weeks of summer school</li>
<li>lesson planned for the upcoming school year</li>
<li>bought a birdfeeder for our backyard</li>
<li>read a bunch of books</li>
<li>finished the library reading program</li>
<li>took a sign language class with Andrew</li>
<li>knit two and a half prayer shawls</li>
<li>took a week long vacation to Michigan with Andrew</li>
<li>ate out at a few restaurants</li>
<li>went to the Exotic Animal Rescue Center</li>
<li>volunteered at the church rummage sale</li>
<li>bought a hammock and a baker's rack from the rummage sale</li>
<li>went to the Indianapolis Zoo</li>
<li>went to the Indiana State Fair</li>
</ul>
<div>
It's been a good summer. This week I'm starting back to school so my goal is simply to get through the week with a positive attitude.</div>
Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936335097197286933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49666280130980510.post-31859497730622586772013-07-17T17:33:00.000-04:002013-07-17T17:33:27.718-04:00The Fault in Our StarsI just finished reading <i>The Fault in Our Stars</i> by John Green. Oh my gosh. This is seriously the best book I've read in a long, long, long time. It's so good that I'm not even sure what to say about it except that you should go read it. Right now. Seriously.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/a/a9/The_Fault_in_Our_Stars.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/a/a9/The_Fault_in_Our_Stars.jpg" width="218" /></a></div>
Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936335097197286933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49666280130980510.post-7434335954473517982013-06-25T17:23:00.001-04:002013-06-25T17:23:07.018-04:00Love<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Love enables us to walk bravely, to run confidently, and to live triumphantly. -Amish proverb</span>Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936335097197286933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49666280130980510.post-51267839935318569352013-06-03T22:06:00.002-04:002013-06-03T22:06:29.032-04:00Something to remember"The Mighty One, God, the Lord,<br />speaks and summons the earth<br />from the rising of the sun to where it set." -Psalm 50:1Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936335097197286933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49666280130980510.post-40206055199315630212013-05-30T08:00:00.000-04:002013-05-30T08:00:10.328-04:00My First Memory (of Librarians)<br />
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<em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><strong style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">My First Memory (of Librarians)</strong></em></div>
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By Nikki Giovanni</div>
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<em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">This is my first memory:</em><br /><em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">A big room with heavy wooden tables that sat on a creaky</em><br /><em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"> wood floor</em><br /><em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">A line of green shades—bankers’ lights—down the center</em><br /><em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Heavy oak chairs that were too low or maybe I was simply</em><br /><em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"> too short</em><br /><em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"> For me to sit in and read</em><br /><em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">So my first book was always big</em></div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 22px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">In the foyer up four steps a semi-circle desk presided</em><br /><em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">To the left side the card catalogue</em><br /><em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">On the right newspapers draped over what looked like</em><br /><em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"> a quilt rack</em><br /><em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Magazines face out from the wall</em></div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 22px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">The welcoming smile of my librarian</em><br /><em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">The anticipation in my heart</em><br /><em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">All those books—another world—just waiting</em><br /><em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">At my fingertips.</em></div>
Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936335097197286933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49666280130980510.post-58095310586915406122013-05-29T08:00:00.000-04:002013-05-29T08:00:01.375-04:00In the Library<br />
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 22px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<b style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">In the Library</em></b></div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 22px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
By William Stafford</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 22px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">You are reading a book, and think you know </em><br /><em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">the end, but others can’t wait—they crowd </em><br /><em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">on the shelves, breathing. You stop and look around. </em><br /><em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">It is the best time: evening is coming, </em><br /><em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">a bronze haze has captured the sun, </em><br /><em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">lights down the street come on.</em></div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 22px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">You turn a page carefully. Over your shoulder </em><br /><em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">another day has watched what you do </em><br /><em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">and written it down in that book </em><br /><em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">you can’t read till all the pages are done.</em></div>
Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936335097197286933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49666280130980510.post-53760641455013373572013-05-28T08:00:00.000-04:002013-05-28T08:00:06.448-04:00This made me think about pentecost in an entirely new way<br />
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"Babel was about everyone speaking one official imperial language. Pentecost is about the borderless God who speaks in every language."</div>
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— Brian Zahnd (@BrianZahnd) <a href="https://twitter.com/BrianZahnd/status/337232473446547457" style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px; color: #3c807b; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">May 22, 2013</a></div>
Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936335097197286933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49666280130980510.post-68178543770993649032013-05-27T08:00:00.000-04:002013-05-27T08:00:05.375-04:00Something that made me think<br />
<div style="background-color: white; color: #555555; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 22px;">
“God is not a belief-system.<br />
Jesus is not a religion.<br />
Christianity is not a check-list.<br />
Church is not an address.<br />
The Bible is not a book of doctrines.<br />
Community is not a meeting.<br />
Grace has no exceptions.<br />
Ministry is not a program.<br />
Art is not carnal.<br />
Women are not inferior.<br />
Our humanity is not the enemy.<br />
Sinner is not our identity.<br />
Love is not a theory.<br />
Peace is not a circumstance.<br />
Science is not secular.<br />
Sex is not filthy.<br />
Life is not a warm-up for Heaven<br />
The world is not without hope.<br />
There is no “us” and “them.”<br />
Tattoos are not evil.<br />
Loving the earth is not satanic.<br />
Seeing the divine in all things is not heretical.<br />
Self-actualization is not self-worship.<br />
Feelings are not dangerous and unreliable.<br />
The mind is not infallible.”</div>
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Jim Palmer, Notes From (over) The Edge</div>
Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936335097197286933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49666280130980510.post-3592047252269747402013-05-26T22:14:00.002-04:002013-05-26T22:16:14.083-04:00Blue Like JazzIt's been a long time since I've read the book <i>Blue Like Jazz </i>by Donald Miller. I don't remember much about it, other than that I liked his other book <i>Through Painted Deserts</i> more than I liked <i>Blue Like Jazz</i>. <br />
<br />
<a href="http://thegospelcoalition.org/blogs/tgc/files/2012/03/Blue-Like-Jazz-Movie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="166" src="http://thegospelcoalition.org/blogs/tgc/files/2012/03/Blue-Like-Jazz-Movie.jpg" width="320" /></a>This weekend, I was looking through the new releases on Netflix looking for something to watch when I ran across the movie <i>Blue Like Jazz</i>. I'm not really sure what I think about it. I don't know if I would have kept watching if I hadn't known that the author helped make the movie. The movie didn't follow the book, but was written as a type of interpretation of the book because people didn't think that the book would make an interesting enough movie. I know that they wanted to make a movie that was not the typical Christian movie, but it felt like they were trying too hard to go the other way.<br />
<br />
I read <a href="http://www.theatlantic.com/entertainment/archive/2012/04/why-blue-like-jazz-wont-save-christian-cinema/255965/">an article</a> about the movie that seemed to explain my feelings about the movie pretty well when it said,<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'times new roman', times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 23.1875px;">But more importantly, in a movie that's supposed to depict an authentic walk of faith, it just doesn't feel real. From what I've witnessed—in the Bible, in my own life, and in the lives of those around me—an encounter with God elicits a desire to share the good news, not to say sorry for it. This is something Miller himself seems to understand, or at least he did, at one point. </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'times new roman', times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 23.1875px;">Blue Like Jazz </i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'times new roman', times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 23.1875px;">the book does not end with an apology. It ends with an exhortation. "I want you to know Jesus too," Miller writes. That's what knowing Jesus does—it makes you want other people to know him, as well. It's a truth as old as the Bible itself, but it's entirely absent from </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'times new roman', times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 23.1875px;">Blue Like Jazz</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'times new roman', times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 23.1875px;"> the movie. Instead of "I want you to know Jesus," we hear, "I want you to apologize for Jesus." It's a message that Hollywood itself could have delivered.</span></blockquote>
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Every once in a while, I felt like the tone of the book came through, but not very often. And, honestly, I'd have to reread the book to be sure, which I'm planning on doing because I want to be reminded of why I liked the book even if I hated the movie.</span>Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936335097197286933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49666280130980510.post-59773273494038744792013-04-17T12:37:00.000-04:002013-04-17T12:37:35.190-04:00On being left outToday I was left out of lunch plans by the teachers. It still hurts just as much as it always has to be left out.Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936335097197286933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49666280130980510.post-63928213162084971962013-04-14T08:00:00.000-04:002013-04-14T08:00:01.361-04:00National Poetry Month: Mary Oliver<br />
<div style="border: 0px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 22px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">There's something about gardens outside of hospitals that brings a sense of peace to the sterile environment you find inside. This poem captures that feeling.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="border: 0px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 22px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">University Hospital, Boston By Mary Oliver</span></span></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQLtnpA_XmuFFY8QfsgbRWFTbBJt9g_8DrY7Lt5x7xgO5-roxLq" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQLtnpA_XmuFFY8QfsgbRWFTbBJt9g_8DrY7Lt5x7xgO5-roxLq" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image from <a href="https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQLtnpA_XmuFFY8QfsgbRWFTbBJt9g_8DrY7Lt5x7xgO5-roxLq">here</a></td></tr>
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<span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The trees on the hospital lawn </span></span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">are lush and thriving. They too </span><br /><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">are getting the best of care, </span><br /><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">like you, and the anonymous many, </span><br /><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">in the clean rooms high above this city, </span><br /><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">where day and night the doctors keep </span><br /><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">arriving, where intricate machines </span><br /><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">chart with cool devotion </span><br /><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">the murmur of the blood, </span><br /><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">the slow patching-up of bone, </span></span><br /><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">the despair of the mind. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">When I come to visit and we walk out </span><br /><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">into the light of a summer day, </span><br /><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">we sit under the trees — </span><br /><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">buckeyes, a sycamore, and one </span><br /><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">black walnut brooding </span><br /><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">high over a hedge of lilacs </span><br /><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">as old as the red-brick building </span><br /><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">behind them, the original </span><br /><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">hospital built before the Civil War. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">We sit on the lawn together, holding hands </span><br /><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">while you tell me: you are better. </span><br /><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">How many young men, I wonder, </span><br /><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">came here, wheeled on cots off the slow trains </span><br /><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">from the red and hideous battlefields </span><br /><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">to lie all summer in the small and stuffy chambers </span><br /><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">while doctors did what they could, longing </span><br /><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">for tools still unimagined, medicines still unfound, </span><br /><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">wisdoms still unguessed at, and how many died </span><br /><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">staring at the leaves of the trees, blind </span><br /><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">to the terrible effort around them to keep them alive? </span><br /><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">I look into your eyes </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">which are sometimes green and sometimes gray, </span><br /><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">and sometimes full of humor, but often not, </span><br /><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">and tell myself, you are better, </span><br /><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">because my life without you would be </span><br /><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">a place of parched and broken trees. </span><br /><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Later walking the corridors down to the street, </span><br /><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">I turn and step inside an empty room. </span><br /><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Yesterday someone was here with a gasping face. </span><br /><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Now the bed is made all new, </span><br /><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">the machines have been rolled away. The silence </span><br /><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">continues, deep and neutral, </span></span><br /><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">as I stand there, loving you.</span></span></div>
Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936335097197286933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49666280130980510.post-68317640907941507972013-04-13T08:00:00.000-04:002013-04-13T08:00:04.158-04:00National Poetry Month: Elizabeth Bishop (again)<br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">When I was in college, I took a poetry class with an amazing professor who challenged me to write in different styles. One of those was to write a sestina which is incredibly hard because you have to keep repeating the same words but in different orders. This poem puts such great images in my mind, especially that of the Little Marvel Stove. When I was little, my grandmother had a little toy stove that we used to play with all of the time and this poem always makes me think of that stove.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Sestina</span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">By Elizabeth Bishop</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://t2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRJVKhv4tICwVLqKTQGo9pjawDJNjmBGNv0iQRAtQ1Mw8k240Fg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://t2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRJVKhv4tICwVLqKTQGo9pjawDJNjmBGNv0iQRAtQ1Mw8k240Fg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image from <a href="http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://blackpepperpublishing.com/santmarvelstove.jpg&imgrefurl=http://blackpepperpublishing.com/news.html&h=183&w=320&sz=19&tbnid=pco2qzJd-zJbDM:&tbnh=78&tbnw=137&zoom=1&usg=__Y9Hdz_EuyijU2j4c9SFLVmRqtsg=&docid=MxuoujNcWMzxMM&sa=X&ei=Mp1hUbfnN9L_rAGK7YEg&ved=0CEAQ9QEwAw&dur=4100">here</a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">September rain falls on the house.<br />In the failing light, the old grandmother<br />sits in the kitchen with the child<br />beside the Little Marvel Stove,<br />reading the jokes from the almanac,<br />laughing and talking to hide her tears.<br /><br />She thinks that her equinoctial tears<br />and the rain that beats on the roof of the house<br />were both foretold by the almanac,<br />but only known to a grandmother.<br />The iron kettle sings on the stove.<br />She cuts some bread and says to the child,<br /><br />It's time for tea now; but the child<br />is watching the teakettle's small hard tears<br />dance like mad on the hot black stove,<br />the way the rain must dance on the house.<br />Tidying up, the old grandmother<br />hangs up the clever almanac<br /><br />on its string. Birdlike, the almanac<br />hovers half open above the child,<br />hovers above the old grandmother<br />and her teacup full of dark brown tears.<br />She shivers and says she thinks the house<br />feels chilly, and puts more wood in the stove.<br /><br />It was to be, says the Marvel Stove.<br />I know what I know, says the almanac.<br />With crayons the child draws a rigid house<br />and a winding pathway. Then the child<br />puts in a man with buttons like tears<br />and shows it proudly to the grandmother.<br /><br />But secretly, while the grandmother<br />busies herself about the stove,<br />the little moons fall down like tears<br />from between the pages of the almanac<br />into the flower bed the child<br />has carefully placed in the front of the house.<br /><br />Time to plant tears, says the almanac.<br />The grandmother sings to the marvelous stove<br />and the child draws another inscrutable house.</span></div>
Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936335097197286933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49666280130980510.post-69532574332230102382013-04-12T08:00:00.000-04:002013-04-12T08:00:16.970-04:00National Poetry Month: Marge Piercy<br />
My favorite line in this poem is "The work of the world is as common as mud." This poem makes it clear that even though work is common, it's something that must be done and something that people long for because they are proud of the end results.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.coldclimategardening.com/wp-content/uploads/mud_season_mud.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://www.coldclimategardening.com/wp-content/uploads/mud_season_mud.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image from <a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=mud&hl=en&rlz=1C5CHFA_enUS506US506&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ei=pZ5hUb6aDoKwqQGRqIGADQ&ved=0CAoQ_AUoAQ&biw=1235&bih=608#imgrc=-6T4dmY_6VyNsM%3A%3BJCG6FGO6r0ZTyM%3Bhttp%253A%252F%252Fridegravity.com%252Fwp-content%252Fuploads%252F2012%252F06%252FMikes-Mud-Berm.jpg%3Bhttp%253A%252F%252Fridegravity.com%252F2012%252F06%252Fmike-hopkins-gravity-video%252Fmikes-mud-berm%252F%3B1750%3B1167">here</a></td></tr>
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<br />To Be of Use<br />
By Marge Piercy<br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The people I love the best<br />jump into work head first<br />without dallying in the shallows<br />and swim off with sure strokes almost out of sight.<br />They seem to become natives of that element,<br />the black sleek heads of seals<br />bouncing like half-submerged balls.<br /><br />I love people who harness themselves, an ox to a heavy cart,<br />who pull like water buffalo, with massive patience,<br />who strain in the mud and the muck to move things forward,<br />who do what has to be done, again and again.<br /><br />I want to be with people who submerge<br />in the task, who go into the fields to harvest<br />and work in a row and pass the bags along,<br />who are not parlor generals and field deserters<br />but move in a common rhythm<br />when the food must come in or the fire be put out.<br /><br />The work of the world is common as mud.<br />Botched, it smears the hands, crumbles to dust.<br />But the thing worth doing well done<br />has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident.<br />Greek amphoras for wine or oil,<br />Hopi vases that held corn, are put in museums<br />but you know they were made to be used.<br />The pitcher cries for water to carry<br />and a person for work that is real.</span></div>
Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936335097197286933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49666280130980510.post-9459316382055582742013-04-11T08:00:00.000-04:002013-04-11T08:00:14.118-04:00National Poetry Month: Rabindranath Tagore<br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">This poem brings a simplicity that is sometimes overlooked to my relationship with God. By repeating the image of being face to face with God, it takes away everything else and lets me focus on the importance of my relationship with him.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Face To Face</span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">By Rabindranath Tagore</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Day after day, O lord of my life,<br />shall I stand before thee face to face.<br />With folded hands, O lord of all worlds,<br />shall I stand before thee face to face.<br /><br />Under thy great sky in solitude and silence,<br />with humble heart shall I stand before thee face to face.<br /><br />In this laborious world of thine, tumultuous with toil<br />and with struggle, among hurrying crowds<br />shall I stand before thee face to face.<br /><br />And when my work shall be done in this world,<br />O King of kings, alone and speechless<br />shall I stand before thee face to face. </span></div>
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Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936335097197286933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49666280130980510.post-43446885416899672162013-04-10T08:00:00.000-04:002013-04-10T08:00:10.022-04:00National Poetry Month: Elizabeth Bishop<br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">I really like the way this poem talks about the conversations that are almost always in my head. I especially like her use of the word "uninnocent" because it captures the way I seem to think about things I know that I shouldn't dwell on but am unable to stop myself from thinking about.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">Conversation</span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">By Elizabeth Bishop</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The tumult in the heart<br />keeps asking questions.<br />And then it stops and undertakes to answer<br />in the same tone of voice.<br />No one could tell the difference.<br /><br />Uninnocent, these conversations start,<br />and then engage the senses,<br />only half-meaning to.<br />And then there is no choice,<br />and then there is no sense;<br /><br />until a name<br />and all its connotation are the same.</span></div>
Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936335097197286933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49666280130980510.post-92074762799936023672013-04-09T08:00:00.000-04:002013-04-09T08:00:16.525-04:00National Poetry Month: WIlliam Butler Yeats<br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">I like the emphasis that this poem gives to reflecting on all of the experiences we've had in life, even if they didn't turn out how we would have liked them to. I definitely need the reminder to take the time to look back and reflect instead of constantly looking to the future.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">When You Are Old</span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">By William Butler Yeats</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">When you are old and grey and full of sleep,<br />And nodding by the fire, take down this book,<br />And slowly read, and dream of the soft look<br />Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;<br />How many loved your moments of glad grace,<br />And loved your beauty with love false or true,<br />But one man loved the pilgrim Soul in you,<br />And loved the sorrows of your changing face;<br />And bending down beside the glowing bars,<br />Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled<br />And paced upon the mountains overhead<br />And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.</span></div>
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<a href="http://www.poemhunter.com/william-butler-yeats/" style="background-color: white; color: #005d93; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16px; text-decoration: none;"></a>Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936335097197286933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49666280130980510.post-89173396518757431772013-04-08T08:00:00.000-04:002013-04-08T08:00:04.125-04:00National Poetry Month: Matsuo BashoThere's something great about short poems because they are so simple, but can say so much. I especially like the image that this poem gives of the bee staggering because he's so overcome with pollen or the scent of the peony or both. It seems appropriate for my first day back to school from spring break since I'm sure to be staggering a bit by the end of it!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3162/2612933161_2807e2cf85.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3162/2612933161_2807e2cf85.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image from <a href="http://www.flickriver.com/photos/jarkkos/tags/pink/">here</a></td></tr>
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A Bee<br />
By Matsuo Basho<br />
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A bee<br />
staggers out<br />
of the peony.Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936335097197286933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49666280130980510.post-90771172667887683072013-04-07T11:46:00.002-04:002013-04-07T11:49:30.850-04:00National Poetry Month: Robert FrostNormally I'm not a fan of Robert Frost, but I do like this poem because of its simplicity, sweetness, and rhymes.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">The Rose Family </span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">By Robert Frost</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://thefabweb.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/70a14e0d61b54e05b6715bf1a334a854.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://thefabweb.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/70a14e0d61b54e05b6715bf1a334a854.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image from <a href="http://thefabweb.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/70a14e0d61b54e05b6715bf1a334a854.jpg">here</a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The rose is a rose,<br />And was always a rose.<br />But the theory now goes<br />That the apple's a rose,<br />And the pear is, and so's<br />The plum, I suppose.<br />The dear only knows<br />What will next prove a rose.<br />You, of course, are a rose -<br />But were always a rose.</span></div>
Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936335097197286933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49666280130980510.post-38970184379764227122013-04-06T08:00:00.000-04:002013-04-06T08:00:09.850-04:00National Poetry Month: Taylor Mali<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="border: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">How Falling in Love is like Owning a Dog</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="border: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">By Taylor Mali</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">First of all, it’s a big responsibility,<br />especially in a city like New York.<br />So think long and hard before deciding on love.<br />On the other hand, love gives you a sense of security:<br />when you’re walking down the street late at night<br />and you have a leash on love<br />ain’t no one going to mess with you.<br />Because crooks and muggers think love is unpredictable.<br />Who knows what love could do in its own defense?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">On cold winter nights, love is warm.<br />It lies between you and lives and breathes<br />and makes funny noises.<br />Love wakes you up all hours of the night with its needs.<br />It needs to be fed so it will grow and stay healthy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Love doesn’t like being left alone for long.<br />But come home and love is always happy to see you.<br />It may break a few things accidentally in its passion for life,<br />but you can never be mad at love for long.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Is love good all the time? No! No!<br />Love can be bad. Bad, love, bad! Very bad love.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Love makes messes.<br />Love leaves you little surprises here and there.<br />Love needs lots of cleaning up after.<br />Somethimes you just want to get love fixed.<br />Sometimes you want to roll up a piece of newspaper<br />and swat love on the nose,<br />not so much to cause pain,<br />just to let love know <em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Don’t you ever do that again!</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Sometimes love just wants to go out for a nice long walk.<br />Because love loves exercise. It will run you around the block<br />and leave you panting, breathless. Pull you in different directions<br />at once, or wind itself around and around you<br />until you’re all wound up and you cannot move.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">But love makes you meet people wherever you go.<br />People who have nothing in common but love<br />stop and talk to each other on the street.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Throw things away and love will bring them back,<br />again, and again, and again.<br />But most of all, love needs love, lots of it.<br />And in return, love loves you and never stops.</span></div>
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Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936335097197286933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49666280130980510.post-4798409148936585672013-04-05T08:00:00.000-04:002013-04-05T08:00:03.467-04:00National Poetry Month: Frank O'Hara<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Why I Am Not a Painter</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">By Frank O'Hara<br /><a href="http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/164" style="background-color: #f9f9f9; color: #336699; text-decoration: none;"><br /></a><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"> </span>I am not a painter, I am a poet.<br />Why? I think I would rather be<br />a painter, but I am not. Well,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
for instance, Mike Goldberg<br />is starting a painting. I drop in.<br />"Sit down and have a drink" he<br />says. I drink; we drink. I look<br />up. "You have SARDINES in it."<br />"Yes, it needed something there."<br />"Oh." I go and the days go by<br />and I drop in again. The painting<br />is going on, and I go, and the days<br />go by. I drop in. The painting is<br /> finished. "Where's SARDINES?"<br />All that's left is just<br />letters, "It was too much," Mike says.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
But me? One day I am thinking of<br />a color: orange. I write a line<br />about orange. Pretty soon it is a<br /> whole page of words, not lines.<br />Then another page. There should be<br />so much more, not of orange, of<br />words, of how terrible orange is<br />and life. Days go by. It is even in<br />prose, I am a real poet. My poem<br />is finished and I haven't mentioned<br />orange yet. It's twelve poems, I call<br />it ORANGES. And one day in a gallery<br />I see Mike's painting, called SARDINES.</span>Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936335097197286933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49666280130980510.post-66263620762547316372013-04-04T08:00:00.000-04:002013-04-04T08:00:09.359-04:00National Poetry Month: Mary Oliver<br />
<pre><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">Mockingbirds</span>
<span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">By Mary Oliver</span>
<span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">
</span>
<span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">This morning</span>
<span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">two mockingbirds</span>
<span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">in the green field</span>
<span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">were spinning and tossing</span>
<span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">
</span>
<span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">the white ribbons</span>
<span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">of their songs</span>
<span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">into the air.</span>
<span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">I had nothing</span>
<span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">
</span>
better to do
than listen.
I mean this
seriously.
In Greece,
a long time ago,
an old couple
opened their door</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">
</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">to two strangers</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">who were,</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">it soon appeared,</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">not men at all,</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">
</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">but gods.</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It is my favorite story -</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">how the old couple</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">had almost nothing to give</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">
</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">but their willingness</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">to be attentive -</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">but for this alone</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">the gods loved them</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">
</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">and blessed them -</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">when they rose</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">out of their mortal bodies,</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">like a million particles of water</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">
</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">from a fountain,</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">the light</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">swept into all the corners</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">of the cottage,</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">
</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">and the old couple,</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">shaken with understanding,</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">bowed down -</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">but still they asked for nothing</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">
</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">but the difficult life</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">which they had already.</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And the gods smiled, as they vanished,</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">clapping their great wings.</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">
</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Wherever it was</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I was supposed to be</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">this morning -</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">whatever it was I said</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">
</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I would be doing - </span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I was standing</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">at tend edge of the field -</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I was hurrying</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">
</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">through my own soul,</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">opening its dark doors - </span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I was leaning out;</span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I was listening.</span></pre>
Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936335097197286933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49666280130980510.post-68580772780085134232013-04-03T08:00:00.000-04:002013-04-03T08:00:12.849-04:00National Poetry Month: Derek Walcott<br />
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<span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">A City’s Death By Fire</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">By Derek Walcott</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">After that hot gospeller has levelled all but the churched sky,</span><br /><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">I wrote the tale by tallow of a city’s death by fire;</span><br /><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Under a candle’s eye, that smoked in tears, I</span><br /><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Wanted to tell, in more than wax, of faiths that were snapped like wire.</span><br /><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">All day I walked abroad among the rubbled tales,</span><br /><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Shocked at each wall that stood on the street like a liar;</span><br /><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Loud was the bird-rocked sky, and all the clouds were bales</span><br /><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Torn open by looting, and white, in spite of the fire.</span><br /><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">By the smoking sea, where Christ walked, I asked, why</span><br /><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Should a man wax tears, when his wooden world fails?</span><br /><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">In town, leaves were paper, but the hills were a flock of faiths;</span><br /><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">To a boy who walked all day, each leaf was a green breath</span><br /><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Rebuilding a love I thought was dead as nails,</span><br /><span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Blessing the death and the baptism by fire.</span></span></div>
Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936335097197286933noreply@blogger.com0