If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
now you understand.
For this, for everything, we are out of tune
alone, as if enduring to the end.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
there midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow.
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken,
secure, with only two moons listening,
it ought to make you proud.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
the wayside blue and innocent heal-all.
If I can stop one heart from breaking,
and yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise,
and I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow.
It’s in the reach of my arms
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
And never breathe a word about your loss.
Six women selected lines from other poems to make this poem. The poems we could use to select our lines were:
Design – Robert Frost
Do not go gentle into that good night – Dylan Thomas
The World is too much with us – William Wordsworth
Mr. Flood’s Party – Edwin Arlington Robinson
If – Rudyard Kipling
If I can stop – Emily Dickinson
The Lake Isle of Innisfree – Y.B. Yeats
Phenomenal woman – Maya Angelou
The Fury of Rainstorms – Ann Sexton
Thank you Lori, Paula, Barbara, Ramona, and Jennifer
Sitting alone by the window,
watching the lightning electrify the night.
The roaring swelter of the fireplace collides with the crisp cold air.
With this gift of time to myself, I am truly relaxed.
I should be tending to the bills that are past due,
but as my senses take over, all worry is pushed aside.
George will take care of our bills and come see me tomorrow.
For now, it is time to rest my mind.
As the mind drifts, I consider the irony of having George as a caretaker.
He is 12 years older than me; shouldn’t I be taking care of him?
He seems so happy, realizing he’s helped me let go of some of my demons.
I close my eyes and think about the events that brought us together.
Everything was planned to perfection and then the unthinkable happened.
I was enjoying a lovely day when all of the sudden a tornado dropped from the sky.
Although no one died in that storm, our personal lives became twisted in that cyclone.
Our homes were in shambles and my legs were in pain but this neighbor’s support pulled me through it all.
Now I’m overwhelmed with sadness knowing, without my legs, I am not able to fulfill his desires.
As the storm moves off, I’m comforted that perhaps, so surprisingly, we’ve found love.
This was written by 6 women taking turns adding a line. We were all surprised at different times with the direction it was taking. Thanks Barbara, Jennifer, Lori, Lynda, and Ramona!
plants in the
Milkweed for the Monarch,
fennel for the Swallowtail.
The bumble bees and honey bees
like the pink joe pye weed and aster.
Our garden, the way station for beauty.
Lesson 9 – Introduction to Meter
It’s springtime on the wide Nebraska plains,
the growers hoping for some needful rains.
With corn and soybeans planted in the ground,
a distant thunder brings a hopeful sound.
The view of storms approaching is supreme,
all quiet aware results could be extreme.
These billowing, dramatic storms can harm,
so growers hope the worst avoids the farm.