SATURDAY, JUNE 15, 2024 - THREE POEMS

 SATURDAY, JUNE 15, 2024 - THREE POEMS FOR THE WEEKEND

Yes, in English class we had poetry.  I didn’t like poetry.  Yuk.  But, with the passing of time, poetry has grown in stature.  I picked three poems today.  I’m not sure why I picked them - other than they “spoke” to me.

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THERE WILL COME SOFT RAIN

There will come soft rain and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;
And frogs in the pools singing at night,
And wild plum trees in tremulous white;
Robins will wear their feathery fire,
Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;
And not one will know of the war, not one
Will care at last when it is done.
Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree,
If mankind perished utterly;
And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn
Would scarcely know that we were gone.

Sara Teasdale

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Yes, soft rain, birds, frogs, trees.
And the end to war - and the end to hate and conflict!!
And not one will know of the war, not one.  Will care at last when it is done.Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree,  If mankind perished utterly;

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THE LAST ROSE OF SUMMER

‘Tis the last rose of Summer,
  Left blooming alone;
All her lovely companions
  Are faded and gone;
No flower of her kindred,
  No rose-bud is nigh,
To reflect back her blushes
  Or give sigh for sigh!

I’ll not leave thee, thou lone one,
  To pine on the stem;
Since the lovely are sleeping,
  Go sleep thou with them.
Thus kindly I scatter
  Thy leaves o’er the bed
Where thy mates of the garden
  Lie scentless and dead.

So soon may I follow,
  When friendships decay,
And from Love’s shining circle
  The gems drop away!
When true hearts lie withered,
  And fond ones are flown,
Oh! who would inhabit
  This bleak world alone?

Thomas Moore

I remember this poem in November (or October) when passing a rose bush or a garden of other flowers—and there is one last rose, one last flower.  But, I also remember it knowing that “So soon may I follow”.  

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And a poem for Juneteenth

To fling my arms wide
In some place of the sun,
To whirl and to dance
Till the white day is done.
Then rest at cool evening
Beneath a tall tree
While night comes on gently,
    Dark like me—
That is my dream!

To fling my arms wide
In the face of the sun,
Dance! Whirl! Whirl!
Till the quick day is done.
Rest at pale evening . . .
A tall, slim tree . . .
Night coming tenderly
    Black like me.

Langston Hughes

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I didn’t grow up in the African American society - fighting for everything I could get.  Racism isn’t over.  But I did sing “Red and Yellow, Black and White, we are precious in His sight”. 

I am learning humility.  “Man works from sun to sun, but woman’s work is never done”.  

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Injustice will be ended when LOVE WINS

LOVE will TRANSFORM us 

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Karen Anne White, Saturday, June 15, 2024