29 April 2010

Put a Poem in Your Pocket

I love poetry.
I get "Poem A Day" in my email from Poets.org and I treasure them. I don't always love the poems they send but I can't tell you how many days have been made better by pausing to read a poem. The think about a poem. For a couple of notebooks now, I have the tradition of pasting a poem into the inside cover so that I always have a poem at hand. Poems by Mary Oliver, Galway Kinnell, Wallace Stevens have all graced me with their presence in my everyday.

So yesterday, I was thrilled to see this post about National Put-A-Poem-In-Your-Pocket day. I immediately jumped on this. As did my excellent friend Emily over at her blog.

So two things on this post:
1. Do you have a poem in your pocket? And if so, what is it?
2. Have you sent a poem to a friend or loved one lately?

The answer to those to questions for me is yes.
Here is the poem in my pocket and hopefully in my friends' pockets. I hope you too choose to celebrate this wonderful day!

It Is That Dream
by Olav Hague
Translated by Robert Bly

It's that dream we carry with us
That something wonderful will happen,
That it has to happen,
That time will open,
That the heart will open,
That doors will open,
That the mountains will open up,
That wells will leap up,
That the dream will open,
That one morning we'll slip in
To a harbor that we've never known.


Emily said...

I love love, yours.

mine, for the day is Mary Oliver's Skunk Cabbage, but I posted that alraedy, so I went to my bookshelf to find another favorite, and this literally fell out from between the books:

A Selection from Mary Oliver’s “West Wind”
by Cameron

It is midnight, or almost.
Out in the world the wind stretches
bundles back into itself like a hundred
bolts of lace then stretches again

flows itself over the windowsill and into the room
it scatters the papers from the desk
it is in love with disorganization

now the manuscript is on the floor, and reshuffled
now the chapters have married each other
now the alphabet is lost
now the white curtains are tossing wing on wing
now the body of the wind snaps

it sniffs the closet it touches into the pockets of the coats
it touches shells upon the shelves
it touches the tops of books
it slides along the walls

now the lamplight wavers
as the body of the wind swings over the light
outside a million stars are burning
now the ocean calls to the wind

now the wind like water slips under the sash
into the yard the garden the long black sky

in my room after such disturbance I sit, smiling.
I pick up a pencil, I put it down, I pick it up again.
I am thinking of you.
I am always thinking of you.

Jennifer said...

I stole yours! Yes, it's really in my pocket right now. I needed it, so I hope you don't mind. Thank you for this gift!