Poetry Mondays – Be at Peace (William Butler Yeats)


Michael Robartes bids his Beloved be at Peace 

I hear the Shadowy Horses, their long manes a-shake,
Their hoofs heavy with tumult, their eyes glimmering white;
The North unfolds above them clinging, creeping night,
The East her hidden joy before the morning break,
The West weeps in pale dew and sighs passing away,
The South is pouring down roses of crimson fire:
O vanity of Sleep, Hope, Dream, endless Desire,
The Horses of Disaster plunge in the heavy clay:
Beloved, let your eyes half close, and your heart beat
Over my heart, and your hair fall over my breast,
Drowning love’s lonely hour in deep twilight of rest,
And hiding their tossing manes and their tumultuous feet.

The Collected Poems of W.B. Yeats

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Poetry Mondays – If by Rudyard Kipling



If you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

But make allowance for their doubting too:

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,

Or being hated don’t give way to hating,

And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise; 

If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;

If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim,

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two impostors just the same:.

If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

And stoop and build’em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings,

And never breathe a word about your loss:

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

Or walk with Kings – nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

If all men count with you, but none too much:

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,

And – which is more – you’ll be a Man, my son!

Poetry Mondays – EMANCIPATION By Emily Dickinson


EMANCIPATION By Emily Dickinson

No rack can torture me,

My soul’s at liberty

Behind this mortal bone

There knits a bolder one

You cannot prick with saw,

Nor rend with scymitar.

Two bodies therefore be;

Bind one, and one will flee.

The eagle of his nest

No easier divest

And gain the sky,

Than mayest thou,

Except thyself may be

Thine enemy;

Captivity is consciousness,

So’s liberty.

The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson

Poetry Mondays – Song of Myself (Walt Whitman)


I am the poet of the body,

And I am the poet of the soul. 

The pleasures of heaven are with me, and the pains of hell are with me,

The first I graft and increase upon myself . . . . the latter I translate into a new tongue

I am the poet of the woman the same as the man,

And I say it is as great to be a woman as to be a man,

And I say there is nothing greater than mother of men. 

I chant a new chant of dilation or pride,

We have had ducking and deprecating about enough,

I show that size is only development. 

Have you out script the rest? Are you the President?

It is a trifle . . . . they will more than arrive there every

One, and still pass on. 

I am he that walks with the tender and growing night; I call to the earth and sea half-held by the night. 

Press close bare bosomed night! Press close magnetic nourishing night!

Night of south winds! Night of the large few stars!

Still nodding night! Mad naked summer night! 

Smile O voluptuous cool breathed earth! 
Earth of the slumbering and liquid

Earth of departed sunset! Earth of the mountains misty-topt!

Earth of the vitreous pour of the full moon just tinged with blue!

Earth of shine and dark mottling the tide of the river!

Earth of the limpid gray of clouds brighter and clearer for my sake! 

Far swooping elbowed earth! Rich apple-blossomed earth! Smile, for your lover


Prodigal! You have given me love!. . . . therefore I to you give love!

O unspeakable passionate love! 

Thruster holding me tight and that I hold tight!

We hurt each other as the bridegroom and the bride hurt each other. 

Poetry Mondays – The Second Coming (William Butler Yeats)


Falconer with Falcon

Turning and turning in the widening gyre   
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere   
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst   
Are full of passionate intensity.


Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.   
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out   
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert   
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,   
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,   
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it   
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.   
The darkness drops again; but now I know   
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,   
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,   
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

Independence Day Poetry – A Nation’s Strength (Ralph Waldo Emerson)



A Nation’s Strength

Ralph Waldo Emerson (1904)

What makes a nation’s pillars high

And its foundations strong?

What makes it mighty to defy

The foes that round it throng?

It is not gold. Its kingdoms grand

Go down in battle shock;

Its shafts are laid on sinking sand,

Not on abiding rock.

Is it the sword? Ask the red dust

Of empires passed away;

The blood has turned their stones to rust,

Their glory to decay.

And is it pride? Ah, that bright crown

Has seemed to nations sweet;

But God has struck its luster down

In ashes at his feet.

Not gold but only men can make

A people great and strong;

Men who for truth and honor’s sake

Stand fast and suffer long.

Brave men who work while others sleep,

Who dare while others fly…

They build a nation’s pillars deep

And lift them to the sky.

Poetry Mondays – The Tragedy of the Leaves (Charles Bukowski)



The Tragedy of the Leaves

I awakened to dryness and the ferns were dead,

the potted plants yellow as corn;

my woman was gone

and the empty bottles like bled corpses

surrounded me with their uselessness;

the sun was still good, though,

and my landlady’s note cracked in fine and

undemanding yellowness; what was needed now

was a good comedian, ancient style, a jester

with jokes upon absurd pain; pain is absurd

because it exists, nothing more;

I shaved carefully with an old razor

the man who had once been young and

said to have genius; but

that’s the tragedy of the leaves,

the dead ferns, the dead plants;

and I walked into a dark hall

where the landlady stood

execrating and final,

sending me to hell,

waving her fat, sweaty arms

and screaming

screaming for rent

because the world has failed us


Wisdom Wednesdays – Your Environment



Poetry Mondays – All Watched Over By Machines Of Loving Grace (Richard Brautigan)



I like to think (and

the sooner the better!)

of a cybernetic meadow

where mammals and computers

live together in mutually

programming harmony

like pure water

touching clear sky.


I like to think

(right now, please!)

of a cybernetic forest

filled with pines and electronics

where deer stroll peacefully

past computers

as if they were flowers

with spinning blossoms.


I like to think

(it has to be!)

of a cybernetic ecology

where we are free of our labors

and joined back to nature,

returned to our mammal

brothers and sisters,

and all watched over

by machines of loving grace.

Life is Beautiful: Simple life Lessons



- The best classroom in the world is at the feet of an elderly person.

When you’re in love, it shows.

The feeling of having a child fall asleep in your arms is one of the most peaceful feelings in the world.

Being kind is more important than being right.

No matter how serious your life requires you to be, everyone needs a friend to act goofy with.

The easiest way for me to grow as a person is to surround myself with people smarter than I am.

Life is tough, but I’m tougher.

Opportunities are never lost; someone will take the ones you miss.

I wish I could have told my dad that I love him one more time before he passed away.

One should keep his words both soft and tender, because tomorrow he may have to eat them.

A smile is an inexpensive way to improve your looks.

I can’t choose how I feel, but I can choose what I do about it.

Everyone wants to live on top of the mountain, but all the happiness and growth occurs while you’re climbing it.

Best way to give advice in only two circumstances: when it is requested and when it is a life-threatening situation.

The less time I have to work with, the more things I get done.