Poems
The Cana Couple Reminisce - Kathy Coffey
Six humans trapped by happenstance - author unknown
Leisure - W H Davies
Ithaca by Constantine Cavafy
Journey of the Magi - TS Eliot
If I had my life to live over,
Christmas Card - Thomas Merton
The Cana Couple Reminisce - Kathy Coffey
That was only the beginning:Ached and awkward we were then,
Embarrassed enough without the wine incident,
Indebted to Mary's son for flow of joy.
Ever since it has been miracle:
Touching the shoreline of the other in our sleep,
Waking warm beneath our roof,
Hoeing the wheat shoots in our fields.
Even the threats brought blessing:
Brooding death intensified our life,
Illness taught nurture of cherished child,
The needy repaid us with Cana's own poor gold.
Our union was not singular; we fought
And sulked, sickened like the other folk.
But in every glass of common water,
We tasted hints of garnet-gold. Back to top
Six humans trapped by happenstance - author unknown
Six humans trapped by happenstancein bleak and bitter cold.
Each one possessed a stick of wood,
or so the story's told.
Their dying fire in need of logs,
the first woman held hers back,
for on the faces around the fire,
she noticed one was black.
The next man looking cross the way,
saw one not of his church,
and couldn't bring himself to give,
the fire his stick of birch.
The third one sat in tattered clothes,
he gave his coat a hitch,
why should his log be put to use,
to warm the idle rich?
The rich man just sat back and thought
of the wealth he had in store.
and how to keep what he had earned,
from the lazy poor.
The black man's face bespoke revenge,
as the fire passed from his sight,
for all he saw in his stick of wood,
was a chance to spite the white.
And the last man of this forlorn group,
did naught except for gain,
giving only to those who gave,
was how he played the game.
The logs held tight in death's still hands,
was proof of human sin,
they didn't die from the cold without,
they died from the cold within. Author Unknown Back to top
Leisure - W H Davies
What is this life if, full of careWe have no time to stand and stare
No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.
No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.
No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.
No time to turn at Beauty?s glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.
No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.
A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
William Henry Davies 1871-1940 Back to top
Ithaca by Constantine Cavafy
IthacaWhen you start on your journey to Ithaca,
then pray that the road is long,
full of adventure, full of knowledge.
Do not fear the Lestrygonians
and the Cyclopes and the angry Poseidon.
You will never meet such as these on your path,
if your thoughts remain lofty, if a fine
emotion touches your body and your spirit.
You will never meet the Lestrygonians,
the Cyclopes and the fierce Poseidon,
if you do not carry them within your soul,
if your soul does not raise them up before you.
Then pray that the road is long.
That the summer mornings are many,
that you will enter ports seen for the first time
with such pleasure, with such joy!
Stop at Phoenician markets,
and purchase fine merchandise,
mother-of-pearl and corals, amber and ebony,
and pleasurable perfumes of all kinds,
buy as many pleasurable perfumes as you can;
visit hosts of Egyptian cities,
to learn and learn from those who have knowledge.
Always keep Ithaca fixed in your mind.
To arrive there is your ultimate goal.
But do not hurry the voyage at all.
It is better to let it last for long years;
and even to anchor at the isle when you are old,
rich with all that you have gained on the way,
not expecting that Ithaca will offer you riches.
Ithaca has given you the beautiful voyage.
Without her you would never have taken the road.
But she has nothing more to give you.
And if you find her poor, Ithaca has not defrauded you.
With the great wisdom you have gained, with so much experience,
you must surely have understood by then what Ithacas mean.
-- 1911, transl. Rae Dalven Back to top
Journey of the Magi - TS Eliot
"'A cold coming we had of it,Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a long journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.'
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty and charging high prices:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.
Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wine-skins.
But there was no information, and so we continued
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory.
All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death."
T S Eliot Back to top
If I had my life to live over,
If I had my life to live over,I would relax,
I would lighten up
I would take more things less seriously
I would take more chances
I would take more trips
I would climb more mountains,
Swim more rivers,
And watch more sunsets
I would have more real problems
And very few imaginary ones
And if I had to do it over again,
I'd have more of them
In fact, I'd have nothing else...
Just moments, one after another
Instead of living so many years ahead of each day
I would go places and do things
And travel lighter than I have
I would stand barefoot earlier in the spring,
And stay that way later in the fall
I would pick more daisies
I would ride on more merry-go-rounds
I would gather more clowns in my life
I would hug more people, and hold more hands
I would meet you sooner and know you longer
And, I would love you better.
Author unknown Back to top
Christmas Card - Thomas Merton
Christmas Card - Written in 1947When the white stars talk together like sisters
And when the winter hills
Raise their grand semblance in the freezing night,
Somewhere one window
Bleeds like the brown eye of an open force.
Hills, stars,
White stars that stand above the eastern stable.
Look down and offer Him.
The dim adoring light of your belief.
Whose small Heart bleeds with infinite fire.
Shall not this Child
(When we shall hear the bells of His amazing voice)
Conquer the winter of our hateful century?
And when His Lady Mother leans upon the crib,
Lo, with what rapiers
Those two loves fence and flame their brillancy!
Here in this straw lie planned the fires
That will melt all our sufferings:
He is our Lamb, our holocaust!
And one by one the shepherds, with their snowy feet,
Stamp and shake out their hats upon the stable dirt,
And one by one kneel down to look upon their Life. Back to top