WORLDS ARE FORMING

Spring Poetry?

What is your favorite Spring poem?  It doesn't have to be an official "Spring" poem, but perhaps one that reminds you of the season.  If you have one, please leave a comment with the poem attached!  Poetry...always good to share.

Rilke's Early Spring.

     Harshness vanished.  A sudden softness
     has replaced the meadows' wintry grey.
     Little rivulets of water changed
     their singing accents.  Tendernesses,

     hesitantly, reach toward the earth
     from space, and country lanes are showing
     these unexpected subtle risings
     that find expression in the empty trees.

                                        -Rainier Maria Rilke

...These Dancing Tears...

Initial

Out of infinite longings rise
finite deeds like weak fountains,
falling back just in time and trembling.
And yet, what otherwise remains silent,
our happy energies—show themselves
in these dancing tears.

          ::Rilke

For Some Reason, Wednesdays Inspire my Long-Latent Poetic Self.

My training in poetry is limited to 7th and 10th grade English, and amazing Professor Brower's speech class at Princeton.  That's it.  Well, I guess that I enjoy a good poem or two once in awhile.  And I admire Rilke, Cummings, and Frost.  Now, that's it.  Well, I also enjoy people with poetic patterns of speech, bloggers like Reno, April, and the blogger formerly known as Kellen.

In recent weeks, Wednesdays have inspired my poetic self.  Seriously, I have written more poems in that past three weeks than I have in a few years.  I will not say that it is "good," but it has been coming from my heart and my experience.  Good enough for me. 

So, you may see a few poems in the weeks to come.  But, I'm not promising anything. 

I heard them.

today

I heard
the trees clap their hands.

though I wasn’t
really going out with joy,
and i wasn't being led
forth in peace,

     they clapped.

no really,
I heard them.
they were
saying

day is done.
you’ve made it through another.

you could say
it was the wind rustling the leaves.
I say,
it is what I needed.

today
I heard the trees
clap
their
hands.

William Wordsworth. Daffodils.

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

St. Francis of Assisi: He Asked For Charity.

God came to my house and asked for charity.
And I fell on my knees and
cried, "Beloved,

what may I
give?"

"Just love," He said.
"Just love."