Monday Morning Poem

[O my Lord] by Rabi’a (translated by Jane Hirshfield)  O my Lord, if I worship you from fear of hell, burn me in hell. If I worship you from hope of Paradise, bar me from its gates. But if I worship you for yourself alone, grant me then the beauty of your Face.

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Monday Morning Poem

from One-Hundred-Petal Rose by N.M. Hoffman                 for Judith Chambliss (Teacher of Teachers) IV Inviting the Great “Yes” to Sit Down Something physical usually does motivate the vastest resource. Butterfly wings cough the gentle billow tending to tsunami. An idea of the end of borders continues on, similarly billowing, through […]

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Monday Morning Poem

Sweater by Jane Hirshfield What is asked of one is not what is asked of another. A sweater takes on the shape of its wearer, a coffee cup sits to the left or the right of the workspace, making its pale Saturn rings of now and before. Lucky the one who rises to sit at a […]

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Monday Morning Poem

Gift by Leonard Cohen You tell me that silence is nearer to peace than poems but if for my gift I brought you silence (for I know silence) you would say This is not silence this is another poem and you would hand it back to me

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Monday Morning Poem

The Desiderata by Max Ehrmann Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant; they too have […]

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Monday Morning Poem

Side Effects by Dean Young First you wake in disbelief, then In sadness and grief and when you wake For the last time, the forest you’ve been Looking for will turn out to be Right in the middle of your chest.

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Monday Morning Poem

What Things Want by Robert Bly  You have to let things Occupy their own space. This room is small, But the green settee Likes to be here. The big marsh reeds, Crowding out the slough, Find the world good. You have to let things Be as they are. Who knows which of us Deserves the world more?

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Monday Morning Poem

Automatic Teller Machine by Ben Mirov If you work at a steady rate you may reach the river by nightfall and if you have the will a canoe will be waiting by the ash factory for you to take upstream to the takoyaki shack where you can eat delicious food and drink as much beer as […]

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Monday Morning Poem

Exegesis by Paul Hostovsky We couldn’t have been more than twelve or thirteen, sitting on that green bench in the late sixties or early seventies, me and Michael Zucker who was much more savvy and world-weary than I, when I asked him to please explain the meaning of the words to a song by Carly Simon, who […]

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Monday Morning Poem

Work by John Engman I wanted to be a rain salesman, because rain makes the flowers grow, but because of certain diversions and exhaustions, certain limitations and refusals and runnings low, because of chills and pressures, shaky prisms, big blows, and apes climbing down from banana trees, and dinosaurs weeping openly by glacial shores, and […]

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