Hope you liked this poem of mine which still remains untitled.
We declutter our heads through something that erodes our head mystically. Following our own journey and often taking inspiration from others, we evolve or at least we try to evolve. We seek happiness, joy and peace in everything else but not us. Its almost a monotonous thing to hear yet an important one to follow. I often wonder what are we nourishing actually? Do we have to investigate? Or we simply let things fall as and when it should. Should one think of life as as constant battle with time or play with the trivialities delivered to us by time and space?
Welcome dear readers to my newsletter after a long hiatus!
It’s raining everywhere! I am more chained to the thoughts about how trees evolve and believe in sustenance, so sharing a few tree poems.:)
Earth's the right place for love:
I don't know where it's likely to go better.
I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree,
And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk
Toward heaven...
—From "Birches" by Robert Frost
Earthenware Glaze
Lee Eustace
I saw you and stopped.
Time was elastic and irrepressible,
trees were truncated and
words were forthcoming.
Gushing in ebbs that strained
against the everlasting swash
of newfound promise. A reason
to look beyond the pale:
past rows of uncharted trees
and unwieldly grass. The type
in which your step may suddenly
disappear and be engulfed by what lies beneath.
Detached roots and earthenware glaze:
shining to the brim and beyond.
Beyond that savage eye of promise
with which I saw you
and I stopped still for fear of disturbance.
Loveliest of Trees- A.E Housman
Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
Is hung with bloom along the bough,
And stands about the woodland ride
Wearing white for Eastertide.
Now, of my threescore years and ten,
Twenty will not come again,
And take from seventy springs a score,
It only leaves me fifty more.
And since to look at things in bloom
Fifty springs are little room,
About the woodlands I will go
To see the cherry hung with snow.
Trees-Joyce Kilmer
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
Just saying-We can live peacefully if we tend to evolve our emotions- spiritually and physically.
Keeping the newsletter short this time and will be coming with much more additions in future. Let me know if you liked it or the poems.
Love & light
Devika
These tree poems are wonderful! And I love the 'spherical blooms of sounds' in your poem, Devika. The quote from the Velveteen Rabbit is very moving too. All taken together, like you said in your introduction, growth is something that takes a lifetime, and it's helpful to seek guidance. But no one person or self-styled guru has all the answers, and no one is perfect. I'm learning this myself. I'm always looking for some wise person to show me the way or reveal the secrets of the universe to me. But I also know that those answers are never coming. I'm learning instead to trust in myself. That I have a deep knowledge inside of me that I can draw on. I already know much of the answers, but I can't hear myself until I go quiet, or I go into nature and just sit and listen. Much love!