Poetry
Yufa and
Poetry
Poetry makes our thinking and being flexible, prepares us for surprises, invites us into risk, into a complex interplay of references and meanings.
Mike Kauschke • The Poetic Art of Living in a Time Between Worlds - Emerge
Jack Kerouac, Mexico City Blues
The late great Mary Oliver’s advice for life ❣️
“To pay attention, this is our endless and proper work.”
instagram.comMary Oliver: Morning Poem
Every morning
the world
is created.
Under the orange
sticks of the sun
the heaped
ashes of the night
turn into leaves again
and fasten themselves to the high branches–
and the ponds appear
like black cloth
on which are painted islands
of summer lilies.
If it is your nature
to be happy
you will swim away along the soft trails
for hours, your imagination
alighting everywhere.
And if your spirit
carries within it
the thorn
that is heavier than lead–
if it’s all you can do
to keep on trudging–
there is still
somewhere deep within you
a beast shouting that the earth
is exactly what it wanted–
each pond with its blazing lilies
is a prayer heard and answered
lavishly,
every morning,
whether or not
you have ever dared to be happy,
whether or not
you have ever dared to pray.
Poetry is an essential part of society—but only as itself and not as a vehicle for something else.
Micah Mattix • The Integrity of Poetry | Micah Mattix
Apropos of nothing.
I didn’t even knew I had held my breath
Until my body exhaled when I met you
Until my body exhaled when I met you
🥵
HYMN by Edgar Allan Poe
But now it has happened,
No use in talking
The silence between me and you
Has never had meaning.
It was, love it, that was all
That was asked.
But now it has happened,
No words for the foretime,
The desperation has made me the same,
Has made me another.
Who looks at the shape of the fish
Grow giant on the side of his bowl,
Who walks on the terrace
Observing... See more
No use in talking
The silence between me and you
Has never had meaning.
It was, love it, that was all
That was asked.
But now it has happened,
No words for the foretime,
The desperation has made me the same,
Has made me another.
Who looks at the shape of the fish
Grow giant on the side of his bowl,
Who walks on the terrace
Observing... See more
Unknown • CHET ON POETRY (Chet Baker)
373 / “This World is not Conclusion,” Emily Dickinson.