Nancy Cole

RSS

Posts tagged with "poetry"

Clouds overhead but the light shimmering on the horizon is stunning. Into the Great Wide Open. #hope #promise #poetry (at Half Moon Bay State Beach (Francis Beach))

Clouds overhead but the light shimmering on the horizon is stunning. Into the Great Wide Open. #hope #promise #poetry (at Half Moon Bay State Beach (Francis Beach))

Jan 6

Round Trip Stone Skip

It began with the bemused, quick kick of a wrist;
Generous opening of the hand, to flight.
The first light touch on water: surface broken, tiny ripples.
With each touch ever deeper, closer together, more time & space under water.
Ripples amplifying.
And finally the stone breaks the lake completely. With sound and with weight.
Spiraling downward through the vortex toward bottom. Forcing space around it.

What if it didn’t hit bottom? What if were rejected; ejected by a force within?

Force pulling upward, and out of the water, creating a reverse,
wrenching, wave outward. Disruptive.
The stone strains against gravity, thickly moving toward shore.
Heavy in water, fighting depth; until
with less water, more air. Lightness yearning.
Skimming the surface reluctantly, because it has to,
as it reaches for that which released it.
Higher it goes, toward the hand from which it came.
It will land there, fingers wrapping securely.
At home. Held in a warm, welcoming palm.

And if that hand is busy casting another stone?
The first is forced to fall amongst the rest. On the ground,
warmed by the sun, until quenched by lake washing over.

theparisreview:

“After hearing about the resignation of David Petraeus on Friday, I immediately turned to the Dylan Thomas poem ‘I Have Longed to Move Away.’ I first read it, by chance, when I was harboring a huge lie myself, one that had seemed to follow me into the pages of an innocuous-looking poetry book on a friend’s shelf, opened at random. From the first line, the poem not only captures the feeling one gets from living the worst lies; it seduces liars themselves.”
Read more of Ali Pechman on Dylan Thomas’s “I Have Longed to Move Away” here.

theparisreview:

After hearing about the resignation of David Petraeus on Friday, I immediately turned to the Dylan Thomas poem ‘I Have Longed to Move Away.’ I first read it, by chance, when I was harboring a huge lie myself, one that had seemed to follow me into the pages of an innocuous-looking poetry book on a friend’s shelf, opened at random. From the first line, the poem not only captures the feeling one gets from living the worst lies; it seduces liars themselves.

Read more of Ali Pechman on Dylan Thomas’s “I Have Longed to Move Away” here.

Panic and Song

Pendulum swinging, solid and
Heavy on its tight tether;
Left. Right…Ah. Center.
And through.
One side alone, the other in love;
Both are beautiful.
Wide swings, ever slowing, bringing left and right
To center.
The wind blows, and, Panic!
The swings widen, and then slow.
The swings widen, and then slow.
The swings slow. And when the pendulum stops, nobody knows.
And when the pendulum stops, all is together.
No swinging, just singing
To myself a song I can hear faintly.
And I’m reaching for the volume.

It’s none of your business.

Closer, Further.
Closer, Closer. Further.
Rewind. Play.
Rinse. Repeat.
“So is this how it’s going to be from now on?”
It’s none of your business.
Further.
Are we going to be honest?
Closer.
What happens if we thought we were, and we were wrong?
Further.
Push. Pull.
But somewhere, we knew better.
Repel. Cling.
Drop, Dead,
Fear.
Close. Closer…..

The Invitation

The classic and timeless poem by Oriah Mountain Dreamer

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life’s betrayals or have become shrivelled and closed from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it, or fade it, or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself. If you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul. If you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty even when it is not pretty every day. And if you can source your own life from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand at the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, ‘Yes.’

It doesn’t interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone and do what needs to be done to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the centre of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

The Jaws of Life

Just when you think its safe to go back in the water,
Fin.
The shark circles,
And invites her friends.
They snap, they chomp, they taunt, they tease.
They succeed.
In what? You ask.
And they are gone.
And you see the beach, and it is beautiful.
And you will get there
before she returns with her vicious, hungry friends.
Before you are burned by the sun.
Before you forget they came.
Before you forgot the question.
And you will get there.
Bask.
And you get in the water again. Or drown.