Poems that I love

by Robert Frost for my Dad In October of 1962 at Dartmouth College , I heard Frost read this poem from his first book, published in 1916. It was his last public appearance. O hushed October morning mild, Thy leaves have ripened to the fall; Tomorrow's wind, if it be wild, Should waste them all. The crows above the forest call; Tomorrow they may form and go. O hushed October morning mild, Begin the hours of this day slow. Make the day seem to us less brief. Hearts not averse to being beguiled, Beguile us in the way you know. Release one leaf at break of day. At noon release another leaf; One from our trees, one far away. Retard the sun with gentle mist; Enchant the land with amethyst. Slow, slow! For the grapes' sake, if they were all, Whose leaves already are burnt with frost, Whose clustered fruit must else be lost - For the grape' sake along the wall. from "Complete Poems of Robert Frost," 1916 Please cli

by Dan Berrigan For those who protest--you carry our hearts Dorothy Day, Servant of God Some stood up once and sat down. Some walked a mile and walked away. Some stood up twice and sat down. I’ve had it! they said. Some walked 2 miles and walked away. It’s too much! they cried. Some stood and stood and stood. They were taken for fools they were taken for being taken in. Some walked and walked and walked. They were asked, and why do you stand? Because of the heart, they said, and because of the children, and because of the bread. Because the cause is the heart’s beat and the children born, and the risen bread. On May 9 th of this year, Dan celebrated his 90th birthday. Please join us in sending Dan our best wishes and prayers; and for “all who brought faith, hope…to all from the inner and outer edges of our lives together." The picture is of his friend, Dorothy Day, Servant of God.

for the men and women who "occupy" Wall Street in protest By Don Foran If I could play that Dvorák, YoYo Ma, Excruciating sadness yoked to joy, I’d play it for all children of this raw And dangerous world, the ones who most annoy The very rich. I’d hold each note an hour And place my quaking finger on the fret Until my sweat ran free and sour; Till tears flowed too, both mine and ours. I’d let The world know that music with its charm Redeems, somehow, much pain and many long Long hidden wrongs, assuages grief and harm, And sounds, at last, a plaintive, hopeful song. Thus are we saved. You stir new mindfulness Of who we really are and whom we bless.

by Judyth Hill Judyth's poem follows the form of the Tibetan Buddhist meditation, Tonglen . Try it with your own breath, "Breathe in confusion and breathe out maple trees." Or make it your own. W age peace with your breath. Breathe in firemen and rubble, breathe out whole buildings and flocks of blackbirds. Breathe in terrorists and breathe out sleeping children and freshly mown fields. Breathe in confusion and breathe out maple trees. Breathe in the fallen and breathe out lifelong friendships intact. Wage peace with your listening: hearing sirens, pray loud. Remember your tools: flower seeds, clothes pins, clean rivers. Make soup. Learn to knit and make a hat. Think of chaos as dancing raspberries, imagine grief as the outbreath of beauty or the gesture of fish. Swim for the other side. Wage peace. Never has the world seemed so fresh and precious. Have a cup of tea and rejoice. Act as if armistice has already arrived.

by Hafiz Even after all this time the Sun never says to the Earth, “You owe me.” Look what happens with a love like that. It lights the whole sky. For more poems by Hafiz and Rumi..

by Jelelludin Rumi I say that no one in this caravan is awake and that while you sleep, a thief is stealing the signs and symbols of what you thought was your life. Now you're angry with me for telling you this! Pay attention to those who hurt your feelings telling you the truth. Giving and absorbing compliments is like trying to paint on water, that insubstantial. Here is how a man once talked with his house, “Please, if you're ever about to collapse, let me know.” One night without a word the house fell. “What happened to our agreement?” The house answered, “Day and night I've been telling you with cracks and broken boards and holes appearing like mouths opening. But you kept patching and filling those with mud, so proud of your stopgap masonry. You didn't listen.” This house is your body always saying, I'm leaving; I'm going soon. Don't hide from one who knows the secret. Drink the wine of turning toward God. Don'

by Rumi You that give nourishment and steadiness and freedom, give the bent soul strength to stand up straight in the work it knows it's here to do. Give us patience and generosity and clarity to see through the images that appear. There is a coarse desire that wants world-power; there are armies that kill their own relatives; and there is the bitter pleasure of dolls that pull the stuffing out of each other. Read the passionate love stories again. Notice how everyone perishes in what is not love. Love is when the holy nothingness loves itself. Jealousies come as kindness turns cruel. If there were no legal punishment, no threat of prison, people would shred their enemies, the so-called lovers. Envy connects deeply with the old ambition of fallen angels, who do exist, and they have human helpers who try to destroy anyone who has loved and received wisdom from a teacher. Mathnawi V: 1197-1225 Version by Coleman Barks