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Quixote Quest Archives
Category Archives: Pocket Poems
Love’s Confusing Joy: How April’s Passion and Play Come to the Rescue of Winter’s Persistence (Part 1)
The poet T.S. Eliot began his epic poem, The Wasteland by saying, “April is the cruellest month.” By that, I think he meant that April is a time of change and awakening. And as delightful as that is, it can be hard and even painful to wake from winter’s slow and quiet grip. I usually [...]
Also posted in Passion, Play, Put It Together Tagged April is the cruellest month, Both wishes are foolish, but you’ll be forgiven for forgetting that what you really want is love’s confusing joy, harmonica, If you want the unseen world, If you want what visible reality can give, Love's Confusing Joy, Rumi, T.S. Eliot, The Wasteland, you’re an employee, you’re not living your truth Comments closed
Pocket Poem – Song of Myself (excerpt) by Walt Whitman
Here is a Pocket Poem by Walt Whitman to help you celebrate your own unique song, and specifically your own perfectly imperfect rhythm. Let Uncle Walt’s exuberance carry you further along on your own song than you’d dare alone!
I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me [...]
Also posted in Music Tagged and sing myself, and their parents the same, And what I assume you shall assume, Born here of parents born here from parents the same, but never forgotten, every atom of my blood, For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you. I loafe and invite my soul, form'd from this soil, Hoping to cease not till death. Creeds and schools in abeyance, I celebrate myself, I harbor for good or bad, I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass. My tongue, I permit to speak at every hazard, Nature without check with original energy, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin, Retiring back a while sufficed at what they are, Song of Myself, Walt Whitman Comments closed
The Watched Pot – a Pocket Poem by Rufus Collinson
It had been a long afternoon of Aloneness
when I put the pan of water on the stove to boil.
At first, there was just the slight sound of Change
and then the collection of small glassy bubbles
at the bottom of the pan,
hundreds of perfect orbs,
gathering bouncing becoming
a sphere of waves and light and purpose
reminding me again
of all [...]
Dust of Snow by Robert Frost (a Pocket Poem)
The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree
Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.
Let the beauty we love be what we do – a Pocket Poem
Today, like every other day, we wake up empty
and frightened. Don’t open the door to the study
and begin reading. Take down a musical instrument.
Let the beauty we love be what we do.
There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.
-Rumi
The Letter – a Pocket Poem
During the years that I was writing poetry regularly I wrote a poem every Christmas morning – for some reason I was always able to relax enough to really see life. I looked back to find one, but couldn’t. I did however find this poem about getting and sending physical letters that at least mentions [...]
Posted in Pocket Poems Comments closed
Come, come, whoever you are – persistence and showing up
Come, come, whoever you are,
Wanderer, worshipper, lover of leaving –
It doesn’t matter
Ours is not a caravan of despair.
Come, even if you have broken your vows a
Hundred times
Come, come again, come. – Rumi
I recently wrote about patience, which to me is one of the values that supports the benefits of persistence. Here’s another thought on persistence [...]
Also posted in Persistence Tagged Come, come again, even if you have broken your vows a Hundred times Come, lover of leaving – It doesn’t matter Ours is not a caravan of despair. Come, Pema Chodron, Rumi, steadfast, Wanderer, whoever you are, worshipper Comments closed
Robert Frost Pocket Poem – Now close the windows
Now close the windows and hush all the fields;
If the trees must, let them silently toss;
No bird is singing now, and if there is,
Be it my loss.
It will be long ere the marshes resume,
It will be long ere the earliest bird:
So close the windows and not hear the wind,
But see all wind-stirred.
Robert Frost
Laughing Corn by Carl Sandburg
There was a high majestic fooling
Day before yesterday in the yellow corn.
And day after tomorrow in the yellow corn
There will be high majestic fooling.
The ears ripen in late summer
And come on with a conquering laughter,
Come on with a high and conquering laughter.
The long-tailed blackbirds are hoarse.
One of the smaller blackbirds chitters on a stalk
And a [...]
Posted in Pocket Poems Tagged Carl Sandburg, Laughing Corn poem, There was a high majestic fooling Comments closed
Oh, the places you’ll go! (a Doctor Seuss Pocket Poem)