Sunday Poem ~

The Swan
by John Gould Fletcher

Under a wall of bronze,
Where beeches dip and trail
Their branches in the water;
With red-tipped head and wings—
A beaked ship under sail—
There glides a single swan.

Under the autumn trees
He goes. The branches quiver,
Dance in the wraith-like water,
Which ripples beneath the sedge
With the slackening furrow that glides
In his wake when he is gone:
The beeches bow dark heads.

Into the windless dusk,
Where in mist great towers stand
Guarding a lonely strand,
That is bodiless and dim,
He speeds with easy stride;
And I would go beside,
Till the low brown hills divide
At last, for me and him.

Living Life to the Best of Your Possibility
‘One can judge a nation by the way it treats its most vulnerable’ ~ Aristotle
Victoria Kaloss

Sunday Poem ~

A Baby Asleep After Pain
by D. H. Lawrence

As a drenched, drowned bee
Hangs numb and heavy from a bending flower,
So clings to me
My baby, her brown hair brushed with wet tears
And laid against her cheek;
Her soft white legs hanging heavily over my arm,
Swinging heavily to my movement as I walk.
My sleeping baby hangs upon my life,
Like a burden she hangs on me.
She has always seemed so light,
But now she is wet with tears and numb with pain
Even her floating hair sinks heavily,
Reaching downwards;
As the wings of a drenched, drowned bee
Are a heaviness, and a weariness.

Living Life to the Best of Your Possibility
“One can judge a nation by the way it treats its most vulnerable’ ~ Aristotle
Victoria Kaloss

Sunday Poem~

She Walks in Beauty
George Gordon Byron, 1788 – 1824

I.

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

II.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o’er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling place.

III.

And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/she-walks-beauty

P1050234 (800x600)

Photo Credit: Victoria Kaloss

Happy Lunar Eclipse/Full Moon tomorrow 🙂

Living Life to the Best of Your Possibility
‘One can judge a nation by the way it treats its most vulnerable’ ~ Aristotle
Victoria Kaloss

Sunday Poem ~

It’s all I have to bring today (26)
Emily Dickinson, 1830 – 1886

It’s all I have to bring today—
This, and my heart beside—
This, and my heart, and all the fields—
And all the meadows wide—
Be sure you count—should I forget
Some one the sum could tell—
This, and my heart, and all the Bees
Which in the Clover dwell.It’s all I have to bring today (26)
Emily Dickinson, 1830 – 1886

It’s all I have to bring today—
This, and my heart beside—
This, and my heart, and all the fields—
And all the meadows wide—
Be sure you count—should I forget
Some one the sum could tell—
This, and my heart, and all the Bees
Which in the Clover dwell.

<a href="https://www.poets.org/

Bumblebees_CEH_29June13 (9) (1024x644)

Photo Credit: urbanpollinators.blogspot.com

Sunday Poem ~

Her breast is fit for pearls
by Emily Dickinson

Her breast is fit for pearls,
But I was not a “Diver” —
Her brow is fit for thrones
But I have not a crest.
Her heart is fit for home —
I — a Sparrow — build there
Sweet of twigs and twine
My perennial nest.

http://famouspoetsandpoems.com/poets/emily_dickinson/poems/6344

pearl concho-pearl-shell

Photo Credit: http://www.jewelrydoctor.org/wp-content/uploads/2009/06/concho-pearl-shell.jpg

Living Life to the Best of Your Possibility
‘One can judge a nation by the way it treats its most vulnerable’ ~ Aristotle
Victoria Kaloss

Sunday Poem ~

Rasp
by Maggie Smith

The heat rises in distorted gold
waves around fire
but without fire,
shimmering, twisting

anything seen through it.
The heat rises, rasping
the air it rises through,
scuffing the surface,

if the air has a surface.
The tall summer
field is the keeper
of secrets. Lie down

and forget your body, forgive
your body its bad cradle,
its brokenness.
Lie down and listen

to the rasp, to heat sweep
the pale, dry grass as if
it were your own
breathing, as if the field

you’ve pressed your shape into
is a broom in reverse,
a broom being
swept by the wind.

Copyright © 2017 Maggie Smith. Used with permission of the author.

http://academyofamericanpoets.cmail20.com/t/ViewEmail/y/D527E132D7EF3F3B/F7AC937704804FC38BD4C707EBCCB890

I am grateful to Maggie Smith for giving me permission to post her extraordinary poem.

“Rasp” touched my heart and had me catching my breath. I hope you all enjoy Maggie Smith’s “Rasp” with all your heart and soul.
Again, thank you, Maggie Smith, for your generosity!

Living Life to the Best of Your Possibility
‘One can judge a nation by the wy it treats its most vulnerable’ ~ Aristotle
Victoria Kaloss

Sunday Poem ~

australian willow
Photo credit: Victoria Kaloss (Australian Willow)

In the Desert
by Stephen Crane

In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
Who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
I said, “Is it good, friend?”
“It is bitter—bitter,” he answered;

“But I like it
“Because it is bitter,
“And because it is my heart.”

Living Life to the Best of Your Possibility
‘One can judge a nation by the way it treats its most vulnerable’ ~ Aristotle
Victoria Kaloss

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