This is the third in the poems I have learned series. I notice the gap between poems seems to be expanding so only right more.
Introduction to Poetry by Billy Collins
I ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light
like a color slide
or press an ear against its hive.
I say drop a mouse into a poem
and watch him probe his way out,
or walk inside the poem’s room
and feel the walls for a light switch.
I want them to waterski
across the surface of a poem
waving at the author’s name on the shore.
But all they want to do
is tie the poem to a chair with rope
and torture a confession out of it.
They begin beating it with a hose
to find out what it really means.
I immediately loved this poem by Billy Collins. It gave me a tremendous sense of freedom from trying to find meaning. It reminded me of why as a child I hated poetry class.
Caged Bird by Maya Angelou
A free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wing
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.
But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn bright lawn
and he names the sky his own
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
This poem by the late Maya Angelou has so many exquisite phrases. I always begin a Spiritual Coaching Session with a guided meditation and a poem. This one will often result in a projection or transference that leads to meaningful dialogue. One client particularly was drawn to phrase “of things unknown but longed for still”. It caused a deep reflection on his longings.
Journey by Linda Hogan
The mouth of the river may be beautiful.
It doesn’t remember the womb of its beginning.
It doesn’t look back to where it’s been
or wonder who ahead of it polished the rough stones.
It is following the way
in its fullness,
now like satin,
now cresting,
waters meeting, kindred
to travel gathered together,
all knowing it flows
one way, shining or in shadows.
And me, the animal
I ride wants to drive forward,
its longing not always my own,
overrunning its banks and bounds,
edgeless, spilling along the way
because, as I forget,
it knows everything
is before it.
This is a personal favourite of mine with its remarkable metaphor for the Soul Journey and the sense that dissonance sometimes exist between the inner and outer reality as wel as the sensate and intuitive.
Breath by Kabir (translated by Robert Bly)
Are you looking for me? I am in the next seat.
My shoulder is against yours.
You will not find me in stupas, not in Indian shrine rooms,
nor in synagogues, nor in cathedrals:
not in masses, nor in kirtans, not in legs winding around your
own neck, nor in eating nothing but vegetables.
When you really look for me, you will see me instantly—
you will find me in the tiniest house of time.
Kabir says: Student, tell me what is God?
He is the breath inside the breath.
Be still, wake up, I say to myself, Stop running around all over the placeAnd look at the eyes gazing at you from the next seat.Today, notice the loving gaze upon you from the next seat.
The wisdom in this poem strikes me deeply every time I recite it. How often am I running around not seeing that which is right in front of me. The depth and richness of the lines “When you really look for me, you will see me instantly—you will find me in the tiniest house of time.” Thanks to Robert Bly for his exquisite rendering particularly the words, “Student, tell me what is God? He is the breath inside the breath.”
The next three poems are represent so clearly where my heart is at the moment. I love to recite them; they resonate at the deepest level of my being. There is so much joy. They all contain a similar message about the full appreciation for these amazing lives we have been gifted. Thank you God for the Persian poets!
On A Day by Rumi
On a day
when the wind is perfect,
the sail just needs to open and the world is full of beauty.
Today is such a day.
My eyes are like the sun that makes promises:
the promise of life
that it always
keeps
each morning.
The living heart gives to us as does that luminous sphere,
both caress the earth with great
tenderness.
There is a breeze that can enter the soul.
This love I know plays a drum. Arms move around me;
who can contain their self before my beauty?
On a day when the wind is perfect,
the sail just needs to open
and the love starts.
Today is such
a day.
This is Now by Rumi
This is now.
Now is, all there is.
Don’t wait for Then.
Strike the spark, light the fire.
Sit at the Beloved’s table.
Feast with gusto, drink your fill.
Then dance
The way branches of jasmine and
cypress dance in a spring wind.
The green earth is your cloth.
Tailor your robe with dignity and grace.
We Have Not Come Here to Take Prisoners by Hafiz
We have not come here to take prisoners
But to surrender ever more deeply
To freedom and joy.
We have not come into this exquisite world
to hold ourselves hostage from love.
Run my dear, From anything
That may not strengthen
Your precious budding wings,
Run like hell, my dear,
From anyone likely to put a sharp knife
Into the sacred, tender vision
Of your beautiful heart.
We have a duty to befriend
Those aspects of obedience of our house
And shout to our reason
“Oh please, oh please
come out and play.”
For we have not come here to take prisoners,
Or to confine our wondrous spirits
But to experience ever and ever more deeply
our divine courage, freedom, and Light!
Yes by William Stafford
It could happen any time, tornado,
earthquake, Armageddon. It could happen.
Or sunshine, love, salvation.
It could you know. That’s why we wake
and look out–no guarantees
in this life.
But some bonuses, like morning,
like right now, like noon,
like evening.
This last poem became particularly meaningful because it was read in a circle of people many of whom were living with the uncertainty of a cancer diagnosis.
Posted by ta44 
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