Raindrops keep falling

The parched earth, so thirsty and dry

Longing for rain to fall from the sky

And after days of waiting in vain

Comes the sweet scent of rain

The first drops fall, a gentle sound

Pattering softly on the ground

And as the rain picks up its pace

The air fills with its fresh embrace

Petrichor rises, a fragrance divine

Aromas of earth, wet and fine

A scent so pure, so crisp, so clean

As if nature has just awoken from a dream

The rain pours down, a symphony of sound

Reviving the land, and all around

Nature breathes a sigh of relief

As the rain brings comfort and peace

And after the storm, the air is pure

The fragrance lingers, forevermore

A reminder of the rain's sweet grace

And the wonders it can bring to this place

You can make anything happen

You can make anything happen, raise your voice

For you hold the power to manifest your choice.

Just like the one who put stars in the sky,

You too can make your dreams come to life.

The birds that soar high up in the air,

Were taught to fly with utmost care.

But just like them, you too can spread your wings,

And achieve all your heart's longings.

And who do you think of when you say "I"?

It's the person who can reach for the sky,

The one who has the power to make things right,

And turn darkness into the brightest light.

So go ahead, and make your mark,

For you are the one who can light up the dark.

With the power that lies within you,

You can make anything happen, that's true.

Poems for Gardners

 Bloom by Emily Dickinson

Bloom  is Result to meet a Flower

And casually glance

Would cause one scarcely to suspect

The minor Circumstance

Assisting in the Bright Affair

So intricately done

Then offered as a Butterfly

To the Meridian

To pack the Bud oppose the Worm

Obtain its right of Dew

Adjust the Heat elude the Wind

Escape the prowling Bee

Great Nature not to disappoint

Awaiting Her that Day

To be a Flower, is profound

Responsibility

_________________________

The Glory of the Garden  By: Rudyard Kipling

Our England is a garden that is full of stately views,

Of borders, beds and shrubberies and lawns and avenues,

With statues on the terraces and peacocks strutting by;

But the Glory of the Garden lies in more than meets the eye.

For where the old thick laurels grow, along the thin red wall,

You will find the tool- and potting-sheds which are the heart of all ;

The cold-frames and the hot-houses, the dungpits and the tanks:

The rollers, carts and drain-pipes, with the barrows and the planks.                                

And there you’ll see the gardeners, the men and ‘prentice boys

Told off to do as they are bid and do it without noise;

For, except when seeds are  planted and we shout to scare the birds,

The Glory of the Garden it abideth not in words.

And some can pot begonias and some can bud a rose,

And some are hardly fit to trust with anything that grows;

But they can roll and trim the lawns and sift the sand and loam,

For the Glory of the Garden occupieth all who come.

Our England is a garden, and such gardens are not made

By singing:–“Oh, how beautiful!” and sitting in the shade,

While better men than we go out and start their working lives

At grubbing weeds from gravel-paths with broken dinner-knives

 There’s not a pair of legs so thin, there’s not a head so thick,

There’s not a hand so weak and white, nor yet a heart so sick.

But it can find some needful job that’s crying to be done,

For the Glory of the Garden glorifieth every one.

Then seek your job with thankfulness and work till further orders,

If it’s only netting strawberries or killing slugs on borders;

And when your back stops aching and your hands begin to harden,

You will find yourself a partner in the Glory of the Garden.

Oh, Adam was a gardener, and God who made him sees

That half a proper gardener’s work is done upon his knees,

So when your work is finished, you can wash your hand and pray

For the Glory of the Garden, that it may not pass away!

And the Glory of the Garden it shall never pass away!

Fireflies in the Garden By Robert Frost

Here come real stars to fill the upper skies,

And here on earth come emulating flies,

That though they never equal stars in size,

(And they were never really stars at heart)

Achieve at times a very star-like start.

Only, of course, they can’t sustain the part.

One Vast Garden By: Sri Ananandamayi Ma

“I find one vast garden spread out all over the universe.

All plants, all human beings, all higher mind bodies

are about in this garden in various ways,

each has his own uniqueness and beauty.

Their presence and variety give me great delight.

Every one of you adds with his special feature to the glory of the garden.”

Poems for unsettled times

Poetry can help calm the soul in troubled times, here are some poems I like

The Peace of Wild Things” by Wendell Berry

When despair for the world grows in me

and I wake in the night at the least sound

in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,

I go and lie down where the wood drake

rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things

who do not tax their lives with forethought

of grief. I come into the presence of still water.

And I feel above me the day-blind stars

waiting with their light. For a time

I rest in the grace of the world and am free.

Mighty Oak by Kathy J Parenteau

Stand tall, oh mighty oak, for all the world to see.
Your strength and undying beauty forever amaze me.
Though storm clouds hover above you,
Your branches span the sky
In search of the radiant sunlight you
Count on to survive.
When the winds are high and restless and
You lose a limb or two,
It only makes you stronger.
We could learn so much from you.
Though generations have come and gone
And brought about such change,
Quietly you've watched them all,
Yet still remained the same.
I only pray God gives to me
The strength he's given you
To face each day with hope,
Whether skies are black or blue.
Life on earth is truly a gift.
Every moment we must treasure.
It's the simple things we take for granted
That becomes our ultimate pleasures.

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!

Have You Earned Your Tomorrow By Edgar Guest

Is anybody happier because you passed his way?
     Does anyone remember that you spoke to him today?
This day is almost over, and its toiling time is through;
     Is there anyone to utter now a kindly word of you?

Did you give a cheerful greeting to the friend who came along?
Or a churlish sort of "Howdy" and then vanish in the throng?
Were you selfish pure and simple as you rushed along the way,
Or is someone mighty grateful for a deed you did today?

Can you say tonight, in parting with the day that's slipping fast,
     That you helped a single brother of the many that you passed?
Is a single heart rejoicing over what you did or said;
     Does a man whose hopes were fading now with courage look ahead?

Did you waste the day, or lose it, was it well or sorely spent?
     Did you leave a trail of kindness or a scar of discontent?
As you close your eyes in slumber do you think that God would say,
     You have earned one more tomorrow by the work you did today?

My Get Up and Go Has Got Up and Went

Here is a great poem from http://www.dennydavis.net/poemfiles/aging2b.htm

How do I know that my youth is all spent?
Well, my get up and go has got up and went,
But in spite of it all I am able to grin.
When I think of the places my get up has been.

Old age is golden, So I've heard said
But sometimes I wonder, as I get into bed.
With my ears in a drawer, my teeth in a cup
And my eyes on the table until I wake up.

Ere sleep dims my eyes I say to myself
"Is there anything else I can put on the shelf?"
And I'm happy to say as I close the door
"My friends are the same, perhaps even more."

When I was a young thing my slippers were red,
I could kick my heels as high as my head.
Then when I was older, my slippers were blue,
But still I could walk the whole day through.

Now I'm still older, my slippers are black.
I walk to the store and puff my way back.
The reason I know my youth is all spent,
My get up and go has got up and went.

But really, I don't mind when I think with a grin,
Of all the grand places my get up has been.
Since I have retired from life's competition
I busy myself with complete repetition.

I get up each morning and dust off my wits,
Pick up the paper and read the 'obits',
If my name is missing I know I'm not dead
So I eat a good breakfast and go back to bed.

Set aside poetry time

Here are a few more ideas about exploring poetry. I don’t know about you, but I’m great at wasting time–sometimes, I will spend as much time looking through Netflix as I will actually be watching something. One great way to make poetry a part of your day-to-day life is to set aside ten or fifteen minutes every day where you are dedicated to reading poetry in some form. Choose a usually low-key part of your day (in the morning before you start your day, right after dinner, before you watch a show, etc.) and figure out what makes those fifteen minutes feel great–for me, it’s a cup of tea and a soft blanket.

Follow your favorites

If you’re finding it difficult to find new poetry that you enjoy, a great place to start is with poets, publishers, or magazines you already love: maybe they have Twitter and they tweet about what they’re reading, or maybe they’ve shared a list of their favorite writers. This can be a great jumping off point for finding new favorites! If all else fails, in literary magazines you can read the bios of the poets you enjoy–writers will usually list a few other places they’ve been published, and that can lead you to new and exciting literary magazines, often with similar tastes and styles!

Don’t be afraid of the bandwagon

Poetry seems to be getting more and more popular in mainstream culture outlets like Buzzfeed, Bustle, and others, which is making great contemporary poetry easier to find than ever! A simple Google search will yield tons of roundups for underrated contemporary poets, must-read feminist poets, can’t-miss poetry collections by writers of colour, and other great roundups featuring a diverse and exciting array of amazing poetry! Combine this with your local library or indie bookstore, and you’ll never have a shortage of material, in April or otherwise.

National Poetry Writing Month unofficially challenges writers to compose a poem a day throughout April to celebrate NPM. You can also sometimes find this challenge called 30 Days of Poetry. Many writers fall into the challenge free-form, writing about anything and everything, but others find or create guides to get them through the month: on April 1, write a poem about your childhood; on April 2, write a poem about….

Poem in Your Pocket Day is an annual initiative organized by the Academy of American Poets to celebrate National Poetry Month. The League is very excited to be have joined this initiative for the first time in 2016, adding some of our favorite Canadian poems and poets to the mix! Poem in Your Pocket Day 2018 will be held on Thursday, April 26. 

Usually discoverable on social media under the hashtag #todayspoem, this initiative encourages users to share a poem—original or not—every day throughout April. You can find some readers and writers using the hashtag year-round, but its popularity surges in NPM and it’s a great way to discover new poets and performers through social media.

Reading challenge

Individuals or groups can use NPM as an opportunity to set a poetry reading challenge for the month—or for more than just April! Set the challenge in a way that suits your lifestyle and will be a fun way to fit more poetry into your life. Whether it’s challenging yourself to discover and read one new book of poetry in April, or whether you want to read two books a week, a reading challenge will take your poetry consumption to the next level.

National Poetry Month aims to celebrate poetry in all its forms: if you usually like to read formal poetry, try checking out something different like a novel in verse, or poetry that challenges and subverts forms; if you have only ever loved poetry in book form, try checking out a spoken word showcase or a poetry slam; if you’re a performance poet to your core, try diving into a chapbook and seeing the poetry light up those hand-sewn pages.

And if you don’t do poetry? What better time to start than now? The internet is full of incredible lists of recommendations for every non-poetry-lover: feminist poetry, spoken word poetry, emerging poets, political poets, and more. Poetry isn’t dead. There’s a poem just for you, and we know someone wants to help you find it.

Another poem, this time by Yeats from 1927, written when he was in his early sixties. It is about asking the sages of Byzantium to teach him the acceptance of old age.

A few years later, Yeats wrote about this poem in a radio script: "I am trying to write about the state of my soul, for it is right for an old man to make his soul and some of my thoughts about that subject I have put into a poem called Sailing to Byzantium."

That is no country for old men. The young

In one another’s arms, birds in the trees,

—Those dying generations—at their song,

The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,

Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long

Whatever is begotten, born, and dies.

Caught in that sensual music all neglect

Monuments of unageing intellect.

An aged man is but a paltry thing,

A tattered coat upon a stick, unless

Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing

For every tatter in its mortal dress,

Nor is there singing school but studying

Monuments of its own magnificence;

And therefore I have sailed the seas and come

To the holy city of Byzantium.

O sages standing in God’s holy fire

As in the gold mosaic of a wall,

Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre,

And be the singing-masters of my soul.

Consume my heart away; sick with desire

And fastened to a dying animal

It knows not what it is; and gather me

Into the artifice of eternity.

Once out of nature I shall never take

My bodily form from any natural thing,

But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make

Of hammered gold and gold enamelling

To keep a drowsy Emperor awake;

Or set upon a golden bough to sing

To lords and ladies of Byzantium

Of what is past, or passing, or to come.

My thanks to Ronnie at "Time goes By" for the poem.

National Poetry Month

April is one of my favorite month of the year, partly because April is National Poetry Month! Here is some information from the Canadian League of Poets about the month.

If you are an educator looking to bring poetry into your classroom (now or anytime), I recommend the Poetry Society’s resources for teachers, including lesson plans that incorporate award-winning poetry by young poets, and the Young Poets Network, an online platform for young poets up to the age of 25 with articles, challenges, prompts, advice, and more.

If you are looking for books to help you integrate poetry into your classroom, try the Spoken Word Workbook, edited by Sheri-D Wilson, or Imaginative Writing: The Elements of Craft by Jane Burroway.

Two other great resources are this post from 2016, “4 Reasons to Start-Class With a Poem Each Day,” and this guide on one teacher’s implementation of starting class with a poem: “A Poem a Day: 30 Poems for Secondary Students.”

Here are some tips on how to take poetry beyond April!

Read a poem in your sudden downtime

Use your phone or tablet as a means of filling unexpected free time with poetry: you can borrow eBooks from the library and read just one poem at a time, or you could find an online literary magazine that will have regular new content for you to explore! The Puritan, Minola Review, CV2, Cosmonauts Avenue, and Plenitude are just a few great Canadian literary magazines that have online poetry content. You can even take it a step further and share the poems you like on your own social media!

Take it down a notch: try chapbooks, instead of books

Chapbooks are a perfect way of settling into poetry when you have some free time on your day off, but not enough time to really get into a full book. Chapbooks are smaller collections of writing, usually between 10 and 25 pages, that allow writers to explore and experiment with their writing in new and exciting ways. As an added bonus, there are many artisan chapbooks presses out there producing not just beautiful poetry, but aesthetically beautiful books, with hand-sewn pages and high-quality paper to complement the work within! Check out Anstruther Press, Desert Pets Press, above/ground, words(on)pages, or Puddles of Sky Press–just a few of the great active chapbook presses publishing in Canada right now–to get your chapbook collection started!

Take a break or cleanse your palette with poetry

It can feel overwhelming to try to read a book of poetry or an entire issue of a literary magazine, but don’t forget that poems themselves are often bite-sized! You can always use five minutes to read a single poem once, just to redirect your mental efforts for a moment. It’s suggested you should get up to stretch and move around throughout the day to keep your body happy–so why not keep your mind happy with a little poetry stretch every now and then, too? 

A poem on Ageing from http://www.dennydavis.net/poemfiles/aging2b.htm 

My forgetter's getting better
But my rememberer is broke
To you, that may seem funny
But, to me, that is no joke.

For when I'm 'here' I'm wondering
If I really should be 'there'
And, when I try to think it through,
I haven't got a prayer!

Often times I walk into a room,
Say "what am I here for?"
I wrack my brain, but all in vain
A zero is my score.

At times I put something away
Where it is safe, but, Gee!
The person it is safest from
Is, generally, me!

When shopping I may see someone,
Say "Hi" and have a chat,
Then, when the person walks away
I ask myself, "who was that?"

Yes, my forgetter's getting better
While my rememberer is broke,
And it's driving me plumb crazy
And that isn't any joke.

P.S. Send this to everyone you know because I don't remember who sent it to me! (noted Denny)

A challenge

I am responding to a challenge on one of the bogs I read, BrewNspew This week the event is to Write a story or poem of 5 Lines or Less using the word grandparent. Try your skill. 

Pictures of a grandparent I hold dear

What stories lie behind those smiling eyes

Which comfort me as I gain in years

I forgot that they were young but wise

With boundless energy and lots of love

Druthers

A blog I read, BrewNSpew issued a challenge in October. Sometimes, I love to procrastinate so I took time to reflect and to think about this challenge. Finally I decided to take on the challenge. I did not do well but I enjoyed the process :-)

The challenge was to write a story or a poem of 5 lines or less, using the word druthers. For those that are not aware of the word, druthers is a defined as a noun, informal; one’s own way, choice, or preference and a noun, slang; wishes, desires, preferred alternatives. So here is my five line poem:

As my life moves on, I discover

That if I could have my druthers

Life would be enjoying the sunset, 

While walking along the Inlet

 With my Brothers

.

More Poetry on Ageing

Feeling a bit whimsical today so here are a couple of more poems on ageing. Author still unknown 

Prayer for Senility:
God grant me the senility
to forget the people I never liked anyway,
the good fortune to run into the ones I do,
and the eyesight to tell the difference.

Don't Worry
At age 20 we worry about what others think of us;
At age 40 we don't care what they think of us;
At age 60 we realize that they haven't been thinking of us at all.

ABC's of Aging

A is for arthritis,
B is for bad back,
C is for the chest pains. Corned Beef? Cardiac?
D is for dental decay and decline,
E is for eyesight--can't read that top line.
F is for fissures and fluid retention
G is for gas (and not to forget other gastrointestinal glitches)
H is high blood pressure
I is for itches, and lots of incisions
J is for joints, that now fail to flex
L is for libido--what happened to sex?
Wait! I forgot about K!
K is for my knees that crack all the time 
M (But forgive me, I get a few lapses with my Memory from time to time)
N is for nerve (pinched) and neck (stiff) and neurosis
O is for osteo-for all the bones that crack
P is for prescriptions, that cost a small fortune
Q is for queasiness. Fatal or just the flu? Give me a pill I'll be good as new!
R is for reflux--one meal turns into two
S is for sleepless nights,counting fears on how to pay my medical bills!
T is for tinnitus--I hear bells in my ears and the word 'terminal' rings too near
U is for urinary and the difficulties that flow (or not)
V is for vertigo, as life spins by
W is worry, for pains yet unfound
X is for X ray--and what one might find
Y is for year (another one, I'm still alive).
Z is for zest For surviving the symptoms my body's deployed, And keeping twenty-six doctors gainfully employed.

Thanks to  Denny Davis for this author unknown poem