We think of hidden in a white dress
among the folded linens and sachets
of well-kept cupboards, or just out of sight
sending jellies and notes with no address
to all the wondering Amherst neighbors.
Eccentric as New England weather
the stiff wind of her mind, stinging or gentle,
blew two half imagined lovers off.
Yet legend won't explain the sheer sanity
of vision, the serious mischief
of language, the economy of pain.
-- Linda Pastan
When it comes back to teach you
or you come back to learn
how half alive you’ve been,
how your own ignorance and arrogance
have kept you deprived—
when it comes back to you
or you yourself return,
joy is simple, unassuming.
Red tulips on their green stems.
Early spring vegetables, bright in the pan.
The primary colors of a child’s painting,
the first lessons, all over again.
—Thomas Centolella from’ Lights & Mysteries’
Now my five senses
gather into a meaning
all acts, all presences;
and as a lily gathers
the elements together,
in me this dark and shining,
that stillness and that moving,
these shapes that spring from nothing,
become a rhythm that dances,
a pure design.
While I'm in my five senses
they send me spinning
all sounds and silences,
all shape and colour
as thread for that weaver,
whose web within me growing
follows beyond my knowing
some pattern sprung from nothing-
a rhythm that dances
and is not mine.
--Judith Wright
"Such a mistake to want
clarity above all things. What’s
a single night, especially
one like this, now so close to ending?
On the other side, there could be anything,
all the joy in the world, the stars fading,
the streetlight becoming a bus stop."
I like the lady horses best,
how they make it all look easy,
like running 40 miles per hour
is as fun as taking a nap, or grass.
I like their lady horse swagger,
after winning. Ears up, girls, ears up!
But mainly, let's be honest, I like
that they're ladies. As if this big
dangerous animal is also a part of me,
that somewhere inside the delicate
skin of my body, there pumps
an 8-pound female horse heart,
giant with power, heavy with blood.
Don't you want to believe it?
Don't you want to lift my shirt and see
the huge beating genius machine
that thinks, no, it knows,
it's going to come in first.
-- Ada Limón from 'Bright Dead Things'
God made her
his vessel. No.
God made of her
a vessel. No.
The river poured
into her as if
a vessel. Yes.
God made of
her a raft. No.
Her child clung to
her as if a raft.
No. Clung to her
as a raft. Yes.
God made of her
a vassal. Yes:
landless, river
pastured, root
cut loose.
—Lisa Olstein from ‘Dream Apartment’
A whip-poor-will brushed
her wing along the ground
a moment ago, fifty years
in the orchard where my father
kept pear and plum,
a decade of peach trees
and Antinovka's apples
whose seeds come
from Russia by ship
under clouds islanding
a window very past
where also went
the soul of my mother
in a boat with blossoming
sails like apple petals
in wind fifty years at once.
-- Carolyn Forché from 'Lateness of the World'
We are spendthrifts with words,
We squander them,
Toss them like pennies in the air-
Arrogant words,
Angry words,
Cruel words,
Comradely words,
Shy words tiptoeing from mouth to ear.
But the slowly wrought words of love
and the thunderous words of heartbreak-
Those we hoard.
--Pauli Murray from 'Dark Testament and Other Poems'
This evening, I sat by an open window
and read till the light was gone and the book
was no more than a part of the darkness.
I could easily have switched on a lamp,
but I wanted to ride this day down into night,
to sit along and smooth the unreadable page
with the pale gray ghost of my hand.
—Ted Kooser from ‘Delights & Shadows’