This particular poem, courtesy of the Poetry Foundation

Poem of the Day: The Truth the Dead Know

BY ANNE SEXTON

Gone, I say and walk from church,
refusing the stiff procession to the grave,
letting the dead ride alone in the hearse.
It is June. I am tired of being brave.

We drive to the Cape. I cultivate
myself where the sun gutters from the sky,
where the sea swings in like an iron gate
and we touch. In another country people die.

My darling, the wind falls in like stones
from the whitehearted water and when we touch
we enter touch entirely. No one’s alone.
Men kill for this, or for as much.

And what of the dead? They lie without shoes
in their stone boats. They are more like stone
than the sea would be if it stopped. They refuse
to be blessed, throat, eye and knucklebone.


In the second stanza, “I cultivate/ myself” declares a mastery of language. I can only hope that I’ll be able to speak that clearly in my life, being able to attend to situations with words that fit like a glove and offer aid in times that leave us speechless.

“They lie without shoes/ in their stone boats.” What is it about the lack of shoes that so firmly grasped my attention?

Truth and Harmony

The fact that I cherish those two concepts makes me seem like my friends have white hair and just want their kids “to be happy”. Well, you’re right. My friends are increasing in mean age, and not just keeping up with the rate of age inflation (aka time.) Instead of mostly 21 year old friends, I’d say the average age may fall in the thirties.

Anyway, I receive daily poems via email and today’s struck me. Here it is.

Music
By Juhan Liiv
Translated by H.L. Hix & Jüri Talvet

It must be somewhere, the original harmony,
somewhere in great nature, hidden.
Is it in the furious infinite,
in distant stars’ orbits,
is it in the sun’s scorn,
in a tiny flower, in treegossip,
in heartmusic’s mothersong
or in tears?
It must be somewhere, immortality,
somewhere the original harmony must be found:
how else could it infuse
the human soul,
that music?

————-

What a word is treegossip!! Into my vernacular it goes!

“Me Poem” from seventh grade English class

Putting it in my blog so I can revisit it when I’m in the School of Life’s seventy seventh grade.

I am Sophie

A drop of life

In this infinitely vast world

I am a speck

.

I am a peaceful shade of blue

Easy-going

But in no time I turn to

A vibrant lime green

Eager to get going

Excited to be living

.

I am a sushi roll

A lot of personalities packed

Into one

Healthy and delicious

Exotic and special

.

I am the Beatles

Lots of different subjects

Peaceful

Oldie but goodie

.

I am Sophie

Ready to help

Full of love

Independent and proud

I am me