To a stranger ...

Passing stranger! you do not know how longingly I look upon you,
You must be he I was seeking, or she I was seeking, (it comes to me as of a dream,)
I have somewhere surely lived a life of joy with you,
All is recall'd as we flit by each other, fluid, affectionate, chaste, matured,
You grew up with me, were a boy with me or a girl with me,
I ate with you and slept with you, your body has become not yours only nor left my body mine only,
You give me the pleasure of your eyes, face, flesh, as we pass, you take of my beard, breast, hands, in return,
I am not to speak to you, I am to think of you when I sit alone or wake at night alone,
I am to wait, I do not doubt I am to meet you again,
I am to see to it that I do not lose you.

~ by Walt Whitman

I had a big discussion about "The One" at a dinner the other night and despite what everyone said, I think this poem has lovingly summarised it in an indisputable way ...

The world is a box ...

My heart is a box of affection.
My head is a box of ideas.
My room is a box of protection.
My past is a box full of years.

The future's a box full of after.
An egg is a box full of yolk.
My life is a box full of laughter.
And the world is a box full of folk.
~ Sophie Hannah

Daniel Gilbert ...

"Our ability to love beyond all measure those who try our patience and weary our bones is at once our most noble and most human quality" is definitely an ideal to aspire to but whether it is possible on earth is something debatable ...

Erich Fried ....

"But" can be such a negative word, but not in this poem ...

At first I fell in love
with the brightness of your eyes
with your laugh
with your joy in life

Now I love your weeping too
and your fear of life
and the helplessness
in your eyes

But I will help you
with your fear
for my joy in life
is still the brightness of your eyes


"Without You" is a quite common title, but this poem captures the ambiguity we feel about someone so beautifully ...

Not nothing
without you
but not the same

Not nothing
without you
but perhaps less

Not nothing
but less
and less

Perhaps not nothing
without you
but not much more


"Cancellation" is what I encourage my patients to do ...

Being able to breathe out
one's unhappiness

breathe out deeply
so that one can
breathe in again

And perhaps also being able to speak
one's unhappiness
in words
in real words
which are coherent
and make sense
and which one can
understand oneself
and which perhaps
someone else can understand
or could understand

And being able to try

That again would
almost be
happiness

But "Perhaps" is their way to cope ...

Remembering
that is
perhaps
the most painful way
of forgetting
and perhaps
the kindest way
of easing
this pain

I have often been asked why I love poetry so much, and "One Hour" does explain it all ...

I have spent one hour
correcting
a poem that I have written

One hour
That means: In this time
1400 small children died of starvation
because every 2½ seconds
one child under five starves to death
in our world

Also for one hour
the arms race continued
and 62 million eight hundred thousand dollars
were spent in this one hour
for the protection of various powers
from each other
for the military spendings of the world
at the moment amount to
550 billion dollars per year
Our country also
contributes its mite

The question arises
if it still makes sense
to write poems
with the way things are
It maybe true
that some poems are about
military spendings and war
and starving children
But others are about
love and aging and
meadows and trees and mountains
and also about poems and pictures

If it wasn't also for
all these other things
then nobody really cares
about children and peace either anymore.

What it is

It is nonsense
says Reason
It is what it is
says Love

It is unhappiness
says Caution
It is nothing but pain
says Fear
It is hopeless
says Insight
It is what it is
says Love

It is ridiculous
says Pride
It is careless
says Caution
It is impossible
says Experience
It is what it is
says Love
~ by Erich Fried

I love the reply from Love "It is what it is", as it pretty much sums up everything in life ...

The night is fine and dry ...

The night is fine and dry. It falls and spreads
the cold sky with a million opposites
that, for a moment, seem like a million souls
and soon, none, and then, for what seems a long time,
one. Then of course it spins. What is better to do
than string out over the infinite dead spaces
the ancient beasts and spearmen of the human
mind, and, if not the real ones, new ones?

But, try making them clear to one you love —
whoever is standing by you is one you love
when pinioned by the stars — you will find it quite
impossible, but like her more for thinking
she sees that constellation.

After the wave of pain, you will turn to her
and, in an instant, change the universe
to a sky you were glad you came outside to see.

This is the act of all the descended gods
of every age and creed: to weary of all
that never ends, to take a human hand,
and go back into the house.

~ "Stargazing" by Glyn Maxwell reminds of the sky in Morocco desert ...

Easter Wings ...

Lord, who createdst man in wealth and store.
Though foolishly he lost the same,
Decaying more and more,
Till he became
Most poore:
With thee
O let me rise
As larks, harmoniously
And sing this day thy victories:
Then shall the fall further the flight in me.

My tender age in sorrow did beginne:
And still with sickness and shame
Thou didst so punish sinne,
That I became
Most thinne.
With thee
Let me combine
And feel this day thy victorie:
For, if I imp my wing on thine,
Affliction shall advance the flight in me.

~ George Herbert
An utterly incomprehensibly beautiful poem, which encapsulates the meaning of the Cross ...

Robert Frost ...

... said "Happiness makes up in Height for what it lacks in Length" ...

An interesting quote, but I suppose your definition of happiness depends on how readily you go from "what ifs" to "this is it", as acceptance is part of life. Yet, does accepting the knocks in life allow you to be happy or is it contentment?