As I have had company these last four days, I have not been able to post this lovely poem from The Daily Good, as sometimes I just need poetry.
(If you click in the link below, you can listen to the poet, John O’Donohue, read this poem aloud, along with some rather lovely imagery.)
–by John O’Donohue, Jan 01, 2016
On the day when
The weight deadens
On your shoulders
And you stumble,
May the clay dance
To balance you.
And when your eyes
The grey window
And the ghost of loss
Gets in to you,
May a flock of colours,
Indigo, red, green,
And azure blue,
Come to awaken in you
A meadow of delight.
When the canvas frays
In the currach of thought
And a stain of ocean
Blackens beneath you,
May there come across the waters
A path of yellow moonlight
To bring you safely home.
May the nourishment of the earth be yours,
May the clarity of light be yours,
May the fluency of the ocean be yours,
May the protection of the ancestors be yours.
And so may a slow
Wind work these words
Of love around you,
An invisible cloak
To mind your life.
[Note: “Beannacht” is the Gaelic word for “blessing.” A “currach” is a large boat used on the west coast of Ireland.]
Variation on the Word Sleep
I would like to watch you sleeping,
which may not happen.
I would like to watch you,
sleeping. I would like to sleep
with you, to enter
your sleep as its smooth dark wave
slides over my head
and walk with you through that lucent
wavering forest of bluegreen leaves
with its watery sun & three moons
towards the cave where you must descend,
towards your worst fear
I would like to give you the silver
branch, the small white flower, the one
word that will protect you
from the grief at the center
of your dream, from the grief
at the center. I would like to follow
you up the long stairway
again & become
the boat that would row you back
carefully, a flame
in two cupped hands
to where your body lies
beside me, and you enter
it as easily as breathing in
I would like to be the air
that inhabits you for a moment
only. I would like to be that unnoticed
& that necessary.
From Selected Poems II: 1976-1986 by Margaret Atwood (1987).
Thank you Annie, for sharing your lovely words.
I needed these sweet words today.
Come tumble down in love with me
Unveil yourself to this unanswerable desire
That echoes in our hearts
Whirling, in flight let it take us together
Into the velvet night
Where unspoken promises are understood
Whispered to us
Danced upon our acquiescent flesh
This dream is far too sweet
We love passionately
In a thousand different ways
The peaks blaze up against the sky
The petals that flow with our blood
Tremble in full bloom
Tender like water
Our passion runs like oncoming tides
We swim in a sea of stars
I am a bird in song impatient with desire
Your sure fingers sound the strings of my soul
Slowly, you release me
I breathe you in and we fall into dripping colours
At last we lie in sweet repose
Embraced by infinity itself
And so I drown in joy
And drown, and drown
Ann Bagnall and AnnieB222.com, 2013.
Source: Tumble Down In Love
Let yourself be out of control.
Welcome the crumbling of the walls that you put up.
Wallow in that ecstasy.
Let go of all that you think that you are.
Let go of all that you thought that you were.
None of it works for you anymore.
Would you like to see yourself made new?
I’m here to break things down for you…
Dance with Me!
Edited to add: Please note that this poem was not written by me; it was written by the extremely talented sc-fi fantasy author, Cat Valente.
I had the pleasure of hearing Cat read this poem aloud at a sci-fi fantasy convention quite some time ago.
I’ve always loved this poem, and I thought it perhaps fitting to share with my readers today, as I found it again recently, saved within some of my old LiveJournal files from 2010.
This poem immediately struck me as appropriate in honor of one of Loki’s heiti, Father/Mother of Monsters ❤
If you are a monster, stand up.
If you are a monster, a trickster, a fiend,
If you’ve built a steam-powered wishing machine
If you have a secret, a dark past, a scheme,
If you kidnap maidens or dabble in dreams
Come stand by me.
If you have been broken, stand up.
If you have been broken, abandoned, alone
If you have been starving, a creature of bone
If you live in a tower, a dungeon, a throne
If you weep for wanting, to be held, to be known,
Come stand by me.
If you are a savage, stand up.
If you are a witch, a dark queen, a black knight,
If you are a mummer, a pixie, a sprite,
If you are a pirate, a tomcat, a wright,
If you swear by the moon and you fight the hard fight,
Come stand by me.
If you are a devil, stand up.
If you are a villain, a madman, a beast,
If you are a strowler, prowler, a priest,
If you are a dragon come sit at our feast,
For we all have stripes, and we all have horns,
We all have scales, tails, manes, claws and thorns
And here in the dark is where new worlds are born.
Come stand by me.
A poem by Cat Valente
11 October 2010
This past week has been a rollercoaster of emotions.
And no, I don’t like it that way, and thus, I continue to work on developing more effective coping skills.
As well, I am reminded that it is not selfish to take care of myself when necessary.
But I will get there.
And when I am surfing the web, and I come across pieces like this
And I am reminded that I am loved, and that there is no shame in asking for help.
I am grateful.
Happy Valentines’ Day.
While I’d actually intended on posting another piece that I’d found a few weeks ago (that I’d been saving to post here today), here is a lovely poem by Mary Oliver that I woke up to find on my RSS feed this morning:
THE FOURTH SIGN OF THE ZODIAC (PART 3)
I know, you never intended to be in this world.
But you’re in it all the same.
So why not get started immediately.
I mean, belonging to it.
There is so much to admire, to weep over.
And to write music or poems about.
Bless the feet that take you to and fro.
Bless the eyes and the listening ears.
Bless the tongue, the marvel of taste.
You could live a hundred years, it’s happened.
I am speaking from the fortunate platform
of many years,
none of which, I think, I ever wasted.
Do you need a prod?
Do you need a little darkness to get you going?
Let me be as urgent as a knife, then,
and remind you of Keats,
so single of purpose and thinking, for a while,
he had a lifetime.
— from Blue Horses, collected poems