Lily

Tonight I'm going to share with you a poem of I place I often imagine when I want peace inside my mind. 

Lily
There is a place
Where one Lily does grow
As it waves in the wind
And stands in the snow
There is a place
Where one Lily 
And it's waiting
And waiting 
For someone to know

There is a place
Where one Lily does grow
As it laughs with the skies
And laughs at the crows
There is a place
Where one Lily does grow
As it stays there and watches
How the wind blows

Hans Christian Anderson

Tonight, I want to share a poem by Hans Christian Anderson. He's not known for his poetry, but it's just as beautiful as his stories. Short and sweet, here is his poem - very meaningful to me.

Hans Christian Anderson

To move, to breathe, to fly, to float,

To gain all while you give,

To roam the roads of lands remote,

To travel is to live.

Have you ever contemplated why the human species sometimes does such destructive things? I have. In fact, I have, enough to write a poem about it. we're so inventive, creative, and resourceful, yet we still do so many things to the earth that let's us be so innovative. I've thought a lot about that earth, too. We need to make the conscience decision to appreciate and help it - I realize that writing poetry won't do that, but it will certainly enrich the lives of those who live here, and maybe inspire someone to make a change. I know poetry does that for me. So here you are, "Graceful is the Ocean" a poem from me to the environment.

Graceful is the Ocean

Graceful

Is the ocean

As it  twirls through endless waves

Gawky

Are the fisherman

As they tumble through rods, nets, and other toxic gear

Regal

Are the mountains

As they gaze upon the worlds below

Spiteful

Are the workers

Who fall through miles smokey building built upon the icy tops

Caring

Are the tree-tops

As they soar with birds and run with deer

Reckless

Are the Loggers

As they tear down leaf-green hopes from the sky whilst still with both feet firmly positioned in the soil, as if they were afraid they would walk away by the end of their work.

Early in the Morning

Good morning! I think the early morn' is my favorite time of day - everything seem so fresh, and everyone around me seems wide awake and ready for a great day. I've always liked slightly windy mornings, and although that doesn't happen too often, I now have a new swing and I'm able to create my own swift wind in the chirping, bright morning. Now when I say everyone around me is wide awake, I'm usually talking about the birds and other animals, because most people that I know are horribly sleepy morning heads. Dedicated to this special morning, I'm posting a beautiful poem by Li-Young Lee

Early in the Morning

While the long grain is softening

in the water, gurgling

over a low stove flame,

the salted Winter Vegetable is sliced

for breakfast, before the birds,

my mother glides an ivory comb

through her hair, heavy

and black as a calligrapher's ink. 

She sits at the foot of the bed.

My father watches, listens for

the music of a comb 

against hair.

My mother combs,
pulls her hair back
tighter, rolls it
around two fingers, pins 
in a bun to the back of her head.
For half a hundred years she has done this.
My father likes to see it like this.
He says it is kempt.

But I know
it is because of the way
my mother's hair falls
when he pulls the pins out.
Easily, like the curtains
when they untie them in the evening

Not Really

Good morning, and happy September! But why is it September? Why did we decide on months? Why not Gargalides to tell what time of year it is? It could be Gargalide Three if you wanted it to be. Is it really September? Things are not always what they seem - Sometimes you think everything around you is changing, although, really, you are the one changing.
A poem that I have written about this strange matter itself, here is "Not Really":

Not Really
The crisp is not so crisp
The grass is not so green
Is the air more than just a wisp?
Well, not really.
The ripple isn't water
The mist is more than air
Are the pages getting longer?
Well, not really.

However, there is a certain reason it is September. Just saying.

To The River

Edgar Allen Poe is a classic. His work never gets old, so here I am, sharing some more of it.


To The River
Fair river! in they bright, clear flow 
Of crystal, wandering water,
Tough art an emblem of the flow
Of beauty - the unhidden heart -
The playful maziness of art
In old Alberto's daughter;

But when within they wave she looks -
Which glistens then, and trembles -
Why, then, the prettiest of brooks
Her worshipper resembles;
For in my heart, as in thy stream,
Her image deeply lies -
They heart which trembles at the beam
Of her soul-searching eyes.

   -Edgar Allen Poe

Frozen Poems

I'm not usually into writing love poems, but this one just hit me after watching the Disney movie Frozen - it's inspired by Anna and Kristoff. Enjoy! 

Worth The While

She laughs

It's twirling

Like her eyes

Their howls

Ringing

Never lies

He winks

It's quiet

Like his smile

But if you stick

It's worth the while

And, a bonus! Very obviously about the scene in the movie where Ana and Kristoff fall from a snowy cliff.

Sled Drop

Falling

Falling

Into snow

Hanging

Hanging

Let it go

It's like a pillow

Soft and smooth

My hair's now white

We've gotta move