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''The poet is the priest of the invisible.''

— Wallace Stevens

This is a group for posting Poetry, your own or others. I have not written very much poetry as it does not come to me. I wait until it does. I think it is among the highest forms of the written art, words brought back from beyond the veil upon the fortunate inspiration of the Muse, or the Divine. Sruti is the sanskrit word meaning that which is heard, ''the cosmic sound of truth''. Poets channel the work, they hear it inside, often complete, before it ever touches paper. Alexander Solzhenitsyn wrote a 50 page long poem while serving hard labour in the gulag, scratching it onto a bar of soap and memorising it before rinsing it off, bit by bit every day. Even if the poet is not a particularly philosophical person, yet still a good poem contains within it by its very nature some acute wisdom or observation. The writing of poetry often is an act of revolution, warning us not to forget what has passed. Though we may be manipulated by the modern world, we always know the truth in certain words. And we remember that truth, no matter how long ago we heard it, because Poems are a mnemonic tool. Poetry makes us feel less alone.

''Poetry comes nearer to vital truth than history.''

- Plato

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Utopia ~ Wislawa Szymborska

Utopia   Island where all becomes clear. Solid ground beneath your feet. The only roads are those that offer access. Bushes bend beneath the weight of proofs. The Tree of Valid Supposition grows here with branches disentangled since time…

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Bogland by Seamus Heaney

We have no prairiesTo slice a big sun at evening--Everywhere the eye concedes toEncrouching horizon,Is wooed into the cyclops' eyeOf a tarn. Our unfenced countryIs bog that keeps crustingBetween the sights of the sun.They've taken the skeletonOf the…

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The Wind, One Brilliant Day

The Wind, One Brilliant Day,Antonio MachadoTrans. Robert BlyThe wind, one brilliant day, calledto my soul with an odor of jasmine. “In return for the odor of my jasmine,I’d like all the odor of your roses.” “I have no roses; all the flowersin my…

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Utopia by Wislawa Szymborska

UtopiaWislawa Szymborska Island where all becomes clear. Solid ground beneath your feet. The only roads are those that offer access. Bushes bend beneath the weight of proofs. The Tree of Valid Supposition grows herewith branches disentangled since…

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Oh Mercy - Tony Hoagland

Only the billionth personto glance up at the moon tonightwhich looks bald, high-browed and professorial to me,the kind of face I always shook my fist atwhen I was seventeenand every stopsign was a figure of authoritythat had it in for meand every…

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Love Sorrow by Mary Oliver

“Love sorrow. She is yours now, and you musttake care of what has beengiven. Brush her hair, help herinto her little coat, hold her hand,especially when crossing a street. For, think, what if you should lose her? Then you would besorrow yourself;…

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Go to the Limits of your Longing

Rainer Maria Rilke  God speaks to each of us as he makes us,then walks with us silently out of the night. These are the words we dimly hear: You, sent out beyond your recall,go to the limits of your longing.Embody me. Flare up like a flameand make…

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Autumn Begins

Autumn begins unnoticed. Nights slowly lengthen, and little by little, clear winds turn colder and colder, summer’s blaze giving way. My thatch hut grows still. At the bottom stair, in bunchgrass, lit dew shimmers. Meng Hao-jan (689-740) 

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Comments

  • 'A woman may crave to be near water, or be belly down, her face in the earth, smelling the wild smell. She might have to drive into the wind. She may have to plant something, pull things out of the ground or put them into the ground. She may have to knead and bake, rapt in dough up to her elbows. She may have to trek into the hills, leaping from rock to rock trying out her voice against the mountain. She may need hours of starry nights where the stars are like face powder spilt on a black marble floor. She may feel she will die if she doesn’t dance naked in a thunderstorm, sit in perfect silence, return home ink-stained, paint-stained, tear-stained, moon-stained.”
    Clarissa Pinkola Estes - Women Who Run With Wolves.

     

  • "Life is mostly froth and bubble,
    Two things stand like stone.
    Kindness in another's trouble,
    Courage in your own.”
    Adam Lindsay Gordon

     

  • http://vis.sciencemag.org/chemhaiku/

     

    This is lovely. Mary Soon Lee, a sci fi writer from the UK, has written a haiku for every element on the periodic table. Loads of these elements I have never heard of before, and they all have great names and then there's the haikus, some of them enchanting, some not - I hoped for better regarding Phosphorus! Maybe I should try write my own one for that sometime...

     

    She is on Twitter.

    The elements, in haiku
    An interactive review of the periodic table -- composed of 119 haiku
  • This reply was deleted.
    • Rob Brezsny is a radically positive person, I subscribe to his newsletter to be inspired, he gets cranky sometimes about politics although in last few months he has completely chilled with that. He uses his power with words in a splendid way. May he live long and happily

  • Behind the Thunder
    I keep looking for one more teacher,
    only to find that fish learn from water
    and birds learn from sky.

    If you want to learn about the sea,
    it helps to be at sea.
    If you want to learn about compassion,
    it helps to be in love.
    If you want to learn about healing,
    it helps to know of suffering.

    The strong live in the storm
    without worshipping the storm.
    - Mark Nepo 

  • "This is not
    the age of information.

    This is not
    the age of information.

    Forget the news,
    and the radio,
    and the blurred screen.

    This is the time of loaves
    and fishes.

    People are hungry,
    and one good word is bread
    for a thousand."

    ~ David Whyte 

  • testing comments on group walls...

  • " Write it on your heart
    that every day is the best day in the year.
    He is rich who owns the day, and no one owns the day
    who allows it to be invaded with fret and anxiety.

    Finish every day and be done with it.
    You have done what you could.
    Some blunders and absurdities, no doubt crept in.
    Forget them as soon as you can, tomorrow is a new day;
    begin it well and serenely, with too high a spirit
    to be cumbered with your old nonsense.

    This new day is too dear,
    with its hopes and invitations,
    to waste a moment on the yesterdays."
    Ralph Waldo Emerson

  • 3025416?profile=original

     

     


    Bellerophon's Song To Pegasus

    With the help of a friend who carries my heart

    This soul does depend  on your wings in great part

    It is then I will soar like an eagle on high

    And make my home the widening sky

    I will fly the span of a great quiet wood

    And swim the good air in it's blue solitude

    And this will be told evermore till I am able

    Like the story at bedtime that turns into fable

    Come join me now and drink from this spring

    Let us know  this friendship a marvelous thing

    For however long I will help joy to ring

    And so to harmonize those who are willing to sing

    Now this will be done with a song I impart

    To you dear friend before we depart

    For 'this journey's end will bring us right to the start

    May we ever and never be far apart...

    Now, come away, come away, carry me friend!

    It's your company I keep nearest me, here at the end'

    Nemo

     

    • Beautiful. Thank you :) It is said that a friendship is more precious and rare than romantic love.

      Comments posted in Groups don't feed through to Activity Feed on Ning 3. This can be both a disadvantage and an advantage, depending on how one is feeling. Discussions posted in Groups appear.

      It is very nice to see you. 

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