these are a shadow

…all that is worth remembering of life is the poetry of it

Month: January, 2012

to be greatly good.

“(Poetry) awakens and enlarges the mind itself by rendering it the receptacle of a thousand unapprehended combinations of thought. Poetry lifts the veil from the hidden beauty of the world, and makes familiar objects be as if they were not familiar…

The great secret of morals is love; or a going out of our own nature, and an identification of ourselves with the beautiful which exists in thought, action, or person not our own. 

A man, to be greatly good, must imagine intensely and comprehensively; he must put himself in the place of another and of many others; the pains and pleasures of his species must become his  own.”

Percy Bysshe Shelley,  “A Defence of Poetry”

Thank you, Dr. T. David Gordon. Poetry is no rushed, easy art.

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pasta and the goodness of today.

Slow-footed and dreamy-eyed, we wandered the drowsy town.
Coffee’s ambience was the only thing we wanted – something safe and warm
And sweet for searching and listening and sharing heart questions.
Three friends reunited as bridesmaids for the week,
We crowded at the smallest table
With an articulately divided panini that showed
The barrenness of college wallets.

Hopes and dreams churned in my soul, but evaded eloquence when one asked
What I would do if I could do anything.
Still struggling, I attempted – venting frustrations of the fight between
My loves, the Father’s will, and
The expectations of everyone else. But status, money, and saving the world
Are not always one with the simple good things I want –
Richest companionship, knowledge, beauty, and trying new things.

Deep down, I only want the day-to-day “real world”
Where love is hard but necessary. Where facades abound,
But crumble in the face of real-life grace.
I’d be happy making minimum wage in a coffee shop, so long as I am
Serving Heaven’s kingdom and seeing its urgency
In each unresting eye
Of each lonely soul I am indebted to love.

That’s what it came down to.

The days of small things. They’re beautiful, too.
College was not about a winning resume and
Competitive pay for me in the first place. Already, I know I’ll be coming away
Far richer. Even if I don’t find my man.

What about that other coffee-centered gathering at the next table?
Or the next?
It may be us someday.
The expectant mothers radiant with joy in shared experiences and
Glowing anticipation. Or the sassy single women
Who boast in their independence and ability to make homemade pasta,
Just because they felt like it.

Pasta is for sharing and singleness is for needing each other. We nodded,
Silently acknowledging their perfect goodness,
For the moment anyway.