Our Little Blue Home

earth

our little blue home

with puff cotton clouds

and seas deep and mysterious

with crimson evening skies

and luminaries speckling the night

with creatures, huge and minute

and valleys vast and rushing rivers

with trees and mountains high

and wild flowers and tall grasses

with refreshing morning dew

and the sun’s comforting warmth

with blossoms in the spring

and falling crystals in the winter

with the cricket’s lullaby

and the morning tune of birds

with people of all kinds and sorts

who are blessed the gift to be

on their lovely, little blue home

where many wonders can be seen

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 “…The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every “superstar,” every “supreme leader,” every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there–on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam….Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark…There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another, and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we’ve ever known.”

Carl Sagan, Pale Blue Dot, 1994

Happy Earth Day!

 

 

National Poetry Month

“Poetry is language at its most distilled and most powerful.” – Rita Dove

tree- black and white

April is National Poetry Month, and it’s one of the largest literary celebrations in the world. Now is the best time to read some of the wonderfully romantic, thought provoking, and emotionally stirring writing that we cherish and enjoy. The beautifully intense, rhythmic stanzas have been written for thousands of years. The influence of poetry is deeply rooted in mankind, and should be recognized.

I would like to share some of the poems that I love.

Are you familiar with any of them?

 

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night – Dylan Thomas

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

 

The Good Marrow – John Donne

I wonder, by my troth, what thou and I
Did, till we loved? Were we not weaned till then?
But sucked on country pleasures, childishly?
Or snorted we in the Seven Sleepers’ den?
’Twas so; but this, all pleasures fancies be.
If ever any beauty I did see,
Which I desired, and got, ’twas but a dream of thee.
And now good-morrow to our waking souls,
Which watch not one another out of fear;
For love, all love of other sights controls,
And makes one little room an everywhere.
Let sea-discoverers to new worlds have gone,
Let maps to other, worlds on worlds have shown,
Let us possess one world, each hath one, and is one.
My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears,
And true plain hearts do in the faces rest;
Where can we find two better hemispheres,
Without sharp north, without declining west?
Whatever dies, was not mixed equally;
If our two loves be one, or, thou and I
Love so alike, that none do slacken, none can die.

 

A Gift To Bring You- Rumi 

You have no idea how hard I’ve looked for a gift to bring You.

Nothing seemed right.

What’s the point of bringing gold to the gold mine, or water to the ocean.

Everything I came up with was like taking spices to the Orient.

It’s no good giving my heart and my soul because you already have these.

So I’ve brought you a mirror.

Look at yourself and remember me.

 

Where The Sidewalk Ends- Shel Silverstein

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we’ll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we’ll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.

 

The Road Not Taken- Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

 

I hope you enjoyed reading those beautiful words.

What poem do you like best, or what are your thoughts on any of my favorites?

Feel free to share with me.

 

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