In case you’ve been busy doing the million things mamas do, you might not have remembered that April is National Poetry Month. Everyday this month, I’ve been quietly celebrating by reading “30 Poets in 30 Days” from Gregory K. Each poem he has introduced me to has been a treasure.
Here’s one I really loved. It helped me to stop doing my millions of mama things and remember how many things are right.
Be Still in the World
by Charles Ghigna
Be still in the world wherever you are,
Listen to life’s lullaby;
The heartbeat, the breathing, the giving, receiving,
The sun and the moon and the star.
They all shine true through the essence of you,
A beacon of boundless light;
The father, the mother, the sister, the brother,
All are within you tonight.
Let the flow of the seas, the lilt of the breeze,
The rush and the calm of all time
Carry your dreams along rivers and streams
And let you be still where you are.
©2011 Charles Ghigna. All rights reserved.
I was feeling a little regretful that I’m not running the Salt Lake Half Marathon today. But this poem made me laugh at myself. It only sounds romantic to run when you are thinking about it from your warm bed.
I Am Huffing, I Am Puffing
by Graham Denton
I am huffing, I am puffing
I can barely catch my breath,
I feel perilously perched upon
the verge of certain death,
I am absolutely shattered,
I am positively bushed,
I have pushed myself much further
than a human should be pushed.
I feel fit for next to nothing,
I am almost on the deck,
I’m devoid of any vigour,
I am virtually a wreck,
all my muscles are complaining,
and my legs are lumps of lead,
there’s a knot inside my stomach,
I’ve an aching in my head.
I can hardly move an eyelid,
I’ve got nothing left to give,
I have reached the utter limits,
I have lost my will to live,
this is when the coach announces
– as he primes his starting gun –
“Right, you lot, the warm-up’s over…
now it’s time to start your run!”
© Graham Denton. All rights reserved.
Here is one more. I felt this way when we were in St. George over Spring Break. There is no haze there. The sky is like the planetarium, constantly demanding you take a look.
Dear Whoever Composes the Sky
by April Halprin Wayland
I look up tonight at the black and the light
at the faint and the bright
I like how you do it.
I like what you’ve done.
I shiver. But I won’t go inside.
I want to stay here, want to watch the stars quiver.
They’re wallpaper, ceiling, they fill me with feeling
that this is what’s real.
Just being out here
in the nippy night air—
you: way up there.
Me: way down here.
I came out to say hi.
And say thanks for this sky.
©2011 April Halprin Wayland. All rights reserved.
I’ve been intending to all month, but you’re the first ones I’ve shared these poems with. My daughters are next. I’m glad the month is only half-way gone. There are lots of poems to celebrate.