Is an actor who brings his or her interpretation to a role a poet? If they, say sigh in a particular ,modulated way could that be described as a poem? Yes, I learned the derivation of the word "poet" almost 60 years ago from my Greek teacher (we called him "Bomber" as he must have been in the war over Germany) .But I imagine even then (when the word was so used) it was possible to enquire where that word had come from. I believe there is some Sanskrit in ancient Greek words and sometimes you can follow derivations of words as far back as that (I am no expert but sometimes I do post questions like that on a website where members would be experts )
The Clearing Do not try to save the whole world or do anything grandiose. Instead, create a clearing in the dense forest of your life and wait there patiently, until the song that is your life falls into your own cupped hands and you recognize and greet it. Only then will you know how to give yourself to this world so worthy of rescue. ~ Martha Postlethwaite
On the Persistence of Inquiry in History in how many ways is the philsopher either scientist or mystic † (In truth, I am split on the question; offhand I might normally say no or not quite, but some answer otherwise, and I am not inclined to dispute.)
"I think it’s brave. I think it’s brave that you get up in the morning even if your soul is weary and your bones ache for a rest. I think it’s brave that you keep on living even if you don’t know how to anymore. I think it’s brave that you push away the waves rolling in every day and you decide to fight. I know there are days when you feel like giving up but i think it’s brave that you never do. Yea I think it's brave." Lana Rafael
Song of the Witches: “Double, double toil and trouble” BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE (from Macbeth) Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and caldron bubble. Fillet of a fenny snake, In the caldron boil and bake; Eye of newt and toe of frog, Wool of bat and tongue of dog, Adder's fork and blind-worm's sting, Lizard's leg and howlet's wing, For a charm of powerful trouble, Like a hell-broth boil and bubble. Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and caldron bubble. Cool it with a baboon's blood, Then the charm is firm and good. Notes: Macbeth: IV.i 10-19; 35-38
"The softened light, the veiling haze, The calm repose of autumn days, Steal gently o'er the troubled breast, Soothing life's weary cares to rest." ~ Phebe A. Holder, A Song of October
The Orkney Library on Poetry anon. (@OrkneyLibrary), 2022 a short poem name like when we meet a bovine and we say 'hi coo' [via Twitter↱]
Or, have Alanis Morisette travel back in time; sounds like it could double as the perfect, angry break-up song.
Idra Novey The Experiment We all sensed we were in it, but didn’t know who would fund this long a study, what the premise behind it could be. I suspected it was about ethics, but the next week seemed as much a test in coping—the artistry of partial views. But if so, who’d been scripted as the control group? Was it us, wilting for all to see in the humid city like so many tulips crushed into a pewter vase— or was it others, in the suburbs, who kept to their cars and tended to despair apart, in private, where no one would suspect them of sorrow until they’d already moved on? The study continues: the keeping of museums, of dictionaries with our best words—a wild faith that someone will want to see what we have made.
The Committee Weighs In by Andrea Cohen, 2012 I tell my mother I've won the Nobel Prize. Again? she says. Which discipline this time? It's a little game we play: I pretend I'm somebody, she pretends she isn't dead. [via The Threepenny Review↱]
"Pale amber sunlight falls across The reddening October trees, That hardly sway before a breeze As soft as summer: summer's loss Seems little, dear! on days like these. Let misty autumn be our part! The twilight of the year is sweet: Where shadow and the darkness meet Our love, a twilight of the heart Eludes a little time's deceit. Are we not better and at home In dreamful Autumn, we who deem No harvest joy is worth a dream? A little while and night shall come, A little while, then, let us dream. Beyond the pearled horizons lie Winter and night: awaiting these We garner this poor hour of ease, Until love turn from us and die Beneath the drear November trees." ― Ernest Dowson, The Poems and Prose of Ernest Dowson Please Register or Log in to view the hidden image!
"The Peace of Wild Things 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 - The Selected Poems of Wendell Berry.
My Uncle from Odesa, Ukraine Writes by Ilya Kaminsky, 2022 yes, they are sending bombs & electricity is turned off periodically yes, i am ill, but it is impossible toget to be 83 without some illnessesso i put on my hat and go to the farmers marketto buy vegetables while air-raid siren moans. [via Twitter↱]
Meditations In an Emergency by Cameron Awkward-Rich, 2020 I wake up & it breaks my heart. I draw the blinds & the thrill of rain breaks my heart. I go outside. I ride the train, walk among the buildings, men in Monday suits. The flight of doves, the city of tents beneath the underpass, the huddled mass, old women hawking roses, & children all of them, break my heart. There’s a dream I have in which I love the world. I run from end to end like fingers through her hair. There are no borders, only wind. Like you, I was born. Like you, I was raised in the institution of dreaming. Hand on my heart. Hand on my stupid heart. [via Split This Rock↱]
"And now after everything: I know this: There is a reason I am here. And that reason is bigger than me. So I will carry on with great faith beyond what I can see. In pursuit of bold courage, on the adventure of the journey .." ~ Morgan Harper Nichols ~
"Truly, we live with mysteries too marvelous to be understood. How grass can be nourishing in the mouths of the lambs. How rivers and stones are forever in allegiance with gravity while we ourselves dream of rising. How two hands touch and the bonds will never be broken. How people come, from delight or the scars of damage, to the comfort of a poem. Let me keep my distance, always, from those who think they have the answers. Let me keep company always with those who say "Look!" and laugh in astonishment, and bow their heads." ~Mary Oliver, "Mysteries, Yes"
“the flesh covers the bone and they put a mind in there and sometimes a soul, and the women break vases against the walls and the men drink too much and nobody finds the one but keep looking crawling in and out of beds. flesh covers the bone and the flesh searches for more than flesh.” Charles Bukowski