John Hall Wheelock has written a rather dark poem about "things that go bump in the night" which keep us awake and about those tormenting thoughts which sometimes escape their cage. "There is a panther caged within my breast, But what his name, there is no breast shall know save mine, nor what it is that drives him so, Backward and forward, in relentless quest – that silent rage, baffled, but unsuppressed, The soft pad of those stealthy feet that…
Poetry has the power to move us in a special way. There is so much wonderful poetry to choose from. Here are a few excerpts I like: Lewis Carroll’s The Walrus and The Carpenter has a wonderful stanza I repeat in my mind when it’s time to make a decision to take action: "The time has come, the Walrus said, to talk of many things: Of shoes – and ships – and sealing wax- Of cabbages – and kings –…
Alfred Tennyson poem Ulysses has lines which so accurately recount the viewpoint of a life observed from the perspective of old age. The poem talks about the fact that we are indebted to so many people for contributions made both directly and indirectly. It also describes one’s view looking back over life in it’s last stanza. I especially like the image of striving on in spite of the ravages of time: "Made weak by time and fate, but strong in…
Elizabeth (Betty) Barnett was my wife, Lita’s, mother. She was born in 1910 and died December 20, 1985. She was a very remarkable woman in so many respects and a person for whom I had a great deal of love and admiration. She and her husband Hollis operated the Gateway Inn at the entrance to Mount Rainier for many years. This is a poem she wrote: "The snow floats gently on my roof tonight from mountain clouds of high; while…
Here’s a selection of excerpts from a couple of poetry books I enjoy reading. These are from the very old The Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1918: Perfect woman She was a phantom of delight when first she gleam’d upon my sight; A lovely apparition , sent to be a moment’s ornament; Her eyes as starts of twilight fair; like twilight’s, too, her dusky hair; But all things else about her drawn from May-time and the cheerful dawn’ A dancing…
Some poetry is inspiring and some tell a story of a life. Francis Thompson (1859-1907), who wrote the famous poem Hound of Heaven, was born into a well to do Roman Catholic family. He studied for the priesthood, but then left. He attended medical school only to please his parents but failed the examinations three times. In dispair he went to London where he tried different occupations, but was a failure at everything he tried. He became destitute and an…
There are volumes of beautiful words written about life, death & relationships, but here are a couple of examples worth reflecting upon. The first is W.H. Auden’s powerful poem about death which communicates so well the anguish of losing someone close to you. Here’s what he wrote: Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos with muffled drum; Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come. Let airplanes…
So often we are unaware of the ripple effect of our conduct. A smile and kind word that lifts the spirit of someone who needed it. A remark made without realizing the impact. An act of kindness or one of rudeness towards a stranger. Doing the right thing when no one is watching and no applause. These all can have long term affects. On more then one occasion someone has recounted to me something which either benefited them or hurt…
"Age is a quality of mind, If you have left your dreams behind, If hope is cold, If you no longer look ahead, If your ambitions fires are dead – Then you are old. But if from life you take the best, If in life you keep the jest, If love you hold; no matter how the years go by, No matter how the birthdays fly – You are not old."
"God pity them both! and pity us all, Who vainly the dreams of youth recall. For of all the sad words of tongue or pen, The saddest are these: ‘It might have been.’ Maud Miller by John Greenleaf Whittier "Out of the night that covers me, Black as the Pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be for my unconquerable soul. In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced or cried aloud. Under the bludgeoning…
