A precious gift

of divine poetry was given to me today and this one is especially for you, my dear sg....
it resonates with exactly the idea you'd expressed in your reflection on what poetry means to each person...

Eating Poetry

My poems resemble the bread of Egypt—one night

Passes over it, and you can't eat it any more.

So gobble them down now, while they're still fresh,

Before the dust of the world settles on them.

Where a poem belongs is here, in the warmth of the chest;

Out in the world it dies of cold.

You've seen a fish—put him on dry land,

He quivers for a few minutes, and then is still.

And even if you eat my poems while they're still fresh,

You still have to bring forward many images yourself.

Actually, friend, what you're eating is your own imagination.

These poems are not just a bunch of old proverbs.

Rumi

(translated by Robert Bly)

--

This poem could refer to almost any thought or profound reality, that hits one in a moment of startling clarity, that might come from a reading, a conversation, an image, a dream, an equation, anything really. The understanding that emerges from it must be processed completely and shelved with utmost care and respect, in a most accessible place in the mind, to be drawn upon at any future instance, so the wisdom gained may be shared in all its brilliance...

Friendship

by Ralph Waldo Emerson

A ruddy drop of manly blood

The surging sea outweighs;

The world uncertain comes and goes,

The lover rooted stays.

I fancied he was fled,

And, after many a year,

Glowed unexhausted kindliness

Like daily sunrise there.

My careful heart was free again-

O friend, my bosom said,

Through thee alone the sky is arched,

Through thee the rose is red,

All things through thee takes nobler form

And look beyond the earth,

The mill-round of our fate appears

A sun-path in thy worth.

Me too thy nobleness has taught

To master my despair;

The fountains of my hidden life

Are through thy friendship fair.

In celebration of Emily Dickinson's birth anniversary...

A poem of persevering and purpose, and within it a message of hope and the reality of an eternal existence.

Each life converges to some centre

Expressed or still;

Exists in every human nature

A goal,

Admitted scarcely to itself, it may be,

Too fair

For credibility's temerity

To dare.

Adored with caution, as a brittle heaven,

To reach

Were hopeless as the rainbow's raiment

To touch,

Yet persevered toward, surer for the distance;

How high

Unto the saints' slow diligence

The sky!

Ungained, it may be, by a life's low venture,

But then,

Eternity enables the endeavoring

Again.