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Tag Archives: contemplative poetry

Of an inifinite nature: ‘Do Not Stand At My Grave and Weep’ a poem by Mary Elizabeth Frye

05 Tuesday Jan 2016

Posted by meappropriatestyle in poems, poetry

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'Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep' by Mary Elizabeth Frye, contemplative poetry, Do Not Stand At My Grave and Weep"- poem, emotive poem, lyrical poem, poems, poetry

 

 

Do Not Stand At My Grave and Weep

is a well-known poem of emotive sentiment.

First appearing circa 1932,

its authorship remained for many decades

a mystery.

 

In the late 1990s,

it was substantiated that

housewife Mary Elizabeth Frye (1905 – 2004)

had penned the poem.

 

 

It is the only poem written by Ms. Frye.

 

 

Of lyrical beauty

the poem gently reminds, that though

our corporeal self is of finite duration

our essence of self is omnipresent

forever cherished / remembered by those who hold us dear.

 

 

…

 

Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep

 

by Mary Elizabeth Frye

 

 

 

image, Soft-flower-field image by tanjatingcom

 

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.

 

…

(image from tanjating.com)

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“I am the master of my fate; I am the captain of my soul”: ‘Invictus’ a poem by William Ernest Henley

15 Sunday Nov 2015

Posted by meappropriatestyle in poems, poetry

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'Invictus' - poem, contemplative poetry, emotive poem, poems, poetry, William Ernest Henley

Life is wrought with adversities

many of manageable proportions-

one plows through, and is left relatively unscathed.

…

A few-

sadly, wretchedly

are of the extreme, are atrocities

over which happiness at once seems ever unobtainable.

…

Yet,  that which brings sorrow, grief

need not permanently define-

if with every molecule of being

one strives to ‘invictus’-

to be unconquerable, unconquered

by that which seeks to destroy.

…

Invictus

by William Ernest Henley (1849 – 1903)

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

…

(sourced from familyfriendspoems.com)

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‘Equality’ : a poem by Maya Angelou

26 Friday Jun 2015

Posted by meappropriatestyle in poems, poetry

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contemplative poetry, Maya Angelou, poem on equality, poems, poetry

 

The right of equality

fosters

an existence of freedom.

 

 

 

Equality

by Maya Angelou (1928 – 2014)

 

You declare you see me dimly
through a glass which will not shine,
though I stand before you boldly,
trim in rank and marking time.
You do own to hear me faintly
as a whisper out of range,
while my drums beat out the message
and the rhythms never change.

Equality, and I will be free.
Equality, and I will be free.

You announce my ways are wanton,
that I fly from man to man,
but if I’m just a shadow to you,
could you ever understand ?

We have lived a painful history,
we know the shameful past,
but I keep on marching forward,
and you keep on coming last.

Equality, and I will be free.
Equality, and I will be free.

Take the blinders from your vision,
take the padding from your ears,
and confess you’ve heard me crying,
and admit you’ve seen my tears.

Hear the tempo so compelling,
hear the blood throb in my veins.
Yes, my drums are beating nightly,
and the rhythms never change.

Equality, and I will be free.
Equality, and I will be free.

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Poems of winter musing

22 Sunday Feb 2015

Posted by meappropriatestyle in meapp poems, poems, poetry

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'Winter Musing' - poem, 'Winter: A Dirge' - poem, contemplative poetry, meapp poem, poems, poems about winter, poetry, Robert Burns - poet, winter poems

 

 

Winter:  season of quiet and contemplation:

 

(image from flickr.com):

 

winter scene, depressing

 

…

 

Winter Musing

In the midst of Winter battle still

held captive in a grip of ice solidified-

nothing to be done, but to succumb

till Spring of victory warmly won.

(2015)

 

 

…

 

 

Scottish poet Robert Burns (1759 – 1796)

lived during a period in which the British Isles

experienced brutally severe winter seasons-

often referred to as ‘The Little Ice Age’.

Those of the 1780s were said to be particularly relentless.

Burns’  poem-   Winter,  A Dirge

creates a visual of winter’s harshness of clime

and emotes a melancholia of sentiment.

…

Winter, A Dirge

The wintry west extends his blast,
And hail and rain does blaw;
Or the stormy north sends driving forth
The blinding sleet and snaw:
While, tumbling brown, the burn comes down,
And roars frae bank to brae;
And bird and beast in covert rest,
And pass the heartless day.

“The sweeping blast, the sky o’ercast,”
The joyless winter day
Let others fear, to me more dear
Than all the pride of May:
The tempest’s howl, it soothes my soul,
My griefs it seems to join;
The leafless trees my fancy please,
Their fate resembles mine!

Thou Power Supreme, whose mighty scheme
These woes of mine fulfil,
Here firm I rest; they must be best,
Because they are Thy will!
Then all I want-O do Thou grant
This one request of mine!-
Since to enjoy Thou dost deny,
Assist me to resign.

…

 

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And so the the days grow short and the nights grow cold, autumn arrives: as visualised by the poet/author Lucy Maud Montgomery

06 Monday Oct 2014

Posted by meappropriatestyle in poems, poetry

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'An Autumn Evening', contemplative poetry, Lucy Maud Montgomery, poem, poet, symbolism in poetry

An Autumn Evening
by Lucy Maud Montgomery

 

Dark hills against a hollow crocus sky
Scarfed with its crimson pennons, and below
The dome of sunset long, hushed valleys lie
Cradling the twilight, where the lone winds blow
And wake among the harps of leafless trees
Fantastic runes and mournful melodies.

The chilly purple air is threaded through
With silver from the rising moon afar,
And from a gulf of clear, unfathomed blue
In the southwest glimmers a great gold star
Above the darkening druid glens of fir
Where beckoning boughs and elfin voices stir.

And so I wander through the shadows still,
And look and listen with a rapt delight,
Pausing again and yet again at will
To drink the elusive beauty of the night,
Until my soul is filled, as some deep cup,
That with divine enchantment is brimmed up.

 

…

 

 

Lucy Maud Montgomery, 1874  – 1942
Canadian poet and author

 

(image from famouscanadians.org):
an autumn evening, poem, lucy laud montgomery, portrait
…

 

Lucy Maud Montgomery was an only child.  She was raised by her elderly
maternal grandparents.  She embraced the companionship of her imagination
and her writing.

 

She is widely known for her best selling novel
Anne of Green Gables  (1908).

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Reflecting upon life and memories: ‘The Sun Used to Shine’, a poem by Philip Edward Thomas

15 Friday Aug 2014

Posted by meappropriatestyle in poems, poetry

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celebration of life, contemplative poetry, Philip Edward Thomas, poet - soldier, poetry

In memory of moments past, no matter how simple or mundane

but which gave much joy.

In memory of soldiers in war, their thoughts, feelings and sacrifices .

In celebration of living, as appreciation of each day given.

…

The Sun Used to Shine
by Philip Edward Thomas
 
 
The sun used to shine while we two walked
Slowly together, paused and started
Again, and sometimes mused, sometimes talked
As either pleased, and cheerfully parted
 
Each night. We never disagreed
Which gate to rest on. The to be
And the late past we gave small heed.
We turned from men or poetry
 
To rumours of the war remote
Only till both stood disinclined
For aught but the yellow flavorous coat
Of an apple wasps had undermined;
 
Or a sentry of dark betonies,
The stateliest of small flowers on earth,
At the forest verge; or crocuses
Pale purple as if they had their birth
 
In sunless Hades fields. The war
Came back to mind with the moonrise
Which soldiers in the east afar
Beheld then. Nevertheless, our eyes
 
Could as well imagine the Crusades
Or Caesar’s battles. Everything
To faintness like those rumours fade—
Like the brook’s water glittering
 
Under the moonlight—like those walks
Now—like us two that took them, and
The fallen apples, all the talks
And silence—like memory’s sand
 
When the tide covers it late or soon,
And other men through other flowers
In those fields under the same moon
Go talking and have easy hours.
 
…
(image from the guardian):
 
 
 
Edward-Thomas-007
 
the poet, Philip Edward Thomas, 1878 – 1917
 
 
…
 
 

A central theme of his poetry was on war.

In 1915, Thomas, “the poet – soldier”

joined the British Army to fight during World War I.

He was killed in action during the  Battle of Arras, 1917

…

 

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a decision made, a life path taken … the ‘what if’

10 Monday Mar 2014

Posted by meappropriatestyle in poems, poetry

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'The Road Not Taken' - poem, contemplative poetry, Robert Frost

A Fork in the Road by John Pagliuca

(image from fine art america)

…

The Road Not Taken

by Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
…
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
…
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
…
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
…
(image from telegraph.co.uk):
Robert Frost, 1874 – 1963
Pulitzer Prize for Poetry
United States Poet Laureate

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A changing landscape …

23 Sunday Feb 2014

Posted by meappropriatestyle in poems, poetry

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Tags

contemplative poetry, Edo Period, haiku poem, Japan, Matsu Basho, poem, poetry

Haiku poem –

Along my journey

through this transitory world,

new year’s housecleaning

…

by Matsu Basho, 1644 – 1694

…

Matsu Basho was an important poet of Japan’s Edo Period, 1603 – 1867.

(The Edo period – a time of artistic and intellectual development)

Recognised for his contemplative poetry,

Matsu Basho is lauded as the greatest master of haiku

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