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Archive for the ‘poem of the day’ Category

WINNTERPOEM OF THE MONTHCONTESTTrust

 

Sometimes it is good to wait:
the pause that took years to complete
finally ends—your voice
an exclamation of amazement
at where you have landed,
what you have become.
That brief turning away
to answer the call of another,
and forgetting to mark the trail,
the forest of green closing in.

And how bright the day
you recognized, at last,
the one tree that mattered—
the mighty trunk of your own body!
and climbed it to find the path back.
Picking up the pen again
as if you’d never stopped,
the heft and hue of two decades
suffusing the valley of your being,

and all the small scurrying things
finally freed, newly seen
within the round comforting day
of a different vision. Head bowed
over the acreage of your desk then,
grateful for the energy so
quietly at work in that dark—
as if, when you turned away,
one hand shook the other.

 

-Lynne Burnett

 

Lynne Burnett is the winner of the NinaAlvarez.net Poem of the Month Contest, October 2017.

Lynne Burnett lives in the Pacific Northwest. Recent publications include Blue Heron Review, IthacaLit, Mockingheart Review, New Millennium Writings, Tamsen, Taos Journal of International Poetry and Art, Best of Kindness 2017 Anthology and a Tupelo Press chapbook anthology. She is the 2016 winner of the Lauren K. Alleyne Difficult Fruit Poetry Prize, and received special merit in Comstock Review’s 2017 Muriel Craft Bailey Prize. Her chapbook, “Irresistible” is forthcoming from Finishing Line Press, spring of 2018.

 

Many thanks to all those who submitted your beautiful and transcendent work.

You can still submit to the Poem of the Month Contest for future months, and to the Cosmographia Chapbook Contest.

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Time too is afraid of passing, is riddled with holes
through which time feels itself leaking.
Time sweats in the middle of the night
when all the other dimensions are sleeping.
Time has lost every picture of itself as a child.
Now time is old, leathery and slow.
Can’t sneak up on anyone anymore,
Can’t hide in the grass, can’t run, can’t catch.
Can’t figure out how not to trample
what it means to bless.

-Joy Ladin

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Lying in a Hammock at William Duffy’s Farm in Pine Island, Minnesota
Over my head, I see the bronze butterfly,
Asleep on the black trunk,
Blowing like a leaf in green shadow.
Down the ravine behind the empty house,
The cowbells follow one another
Into the distances of the afternoon.
To my right,
In a field of sunlight between two pines,
The droppings of last year’s horses
Blaze up into golden stones.
I lean back, as the evening darkens and comes on.
A chicken hawk floats over, looking for home.
I have wasted my life.
-James Wright

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When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

-Wendell Berry

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Weave in, My Hardy Life

Weave in, weave in, my hardy life,
Weave yet a soldier strong and full for great campaigns to come,
Weave in red blood, weave sinews in like ropes,
the senses, sight weave in,
Weave lasting sure, weave day and night the weft, the warp,
incessant weave, tire not,
(We know not what the use O life, nor know the aim, the end,
nor really aught we know,
But know the work, the need goes on and shall go on, the death-
envelop’d march of peace as well as war goes on,)
For great campaigns of peace the same the wiry threads to weave,
We know not why or what, yet weave, forever weave.

-Walt Whitman

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When we are soft – when the world is underneath us; when we are lost with longing

Be a sparrow.

You knew before you knew all else that this was artifice – and you searched for self-instruction.
You learned to search for what was yours beyond modesty and immodesty.

Be that person again – with a broken wing – if there was ever truth in you, find it now. Be true to that which is best in you, and rides during the Spring, and mounts in its own language. Be true to that which is highest born in you. Let it all be alive in the alchemy.

Be choice. Be free and free, sister, in what was not lost from you – in what was finally heard correctly – in what is not theirs to hold. Your freedom is not theirs. So quick to hear what is not there – so slow to know.

We are here waiting for you. Be beloved. Sky, earth, wind, all.

 

-Nina Alvarez

 

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i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun’s birthday;this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings:and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any–lifted from the no
of allnothing–human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

— e.e. cummings

 

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