ST19: "How This Wealth Came to Be" by Robert Bly

"How This Wealth Came to Be"

It's hard to know how all this wealth came to be.
Ishmael was not created from a fight with a whale.
The ocean is not wild enough to have created Melville's soul.

The hungry one in us did not come from seed.
Our old enemy is one of Adam's grandfathers.
He stood around looking at the shadow of the first soul.

The Ark landed on Ararat; but all those
Who came off the Ark know that the voyage
Was not long enough to produce Abraham's soul.

Oaks once darkened almost all of Great Britain,
Covering it with leaves.  But squirrels rummaging
In a million acorns could not find Chaucer's soul.

How many boulders had to be ground down
To produce one square inch of the Sahara!
Maybe the moon gave birth to Mandela's soul.

There is a mystery about the birth of Jesus.  All that
Snow that fell to earth Christmas Eve finally
Did shift for an instant the weight of Rome's soul.

--Robert Bly

Source: Bly, Robert. 2001. The Night Abraham Called to the Stars. New York: HarperCollins Publishers.

RW10: An untitled poem about the gifts of friendship

I wrote this poem earlier this month after helping a friend move to the DC area.  It speaks of the hidden graces of time with friends.  


A friend in need,
of a place to lay her head,
store her bags,
as she settles in a new city;

A friend in need of a purpose for the next month,
An outlet to serve,
And a routine to help her sleep well again,

Meeting one another's needs,
As they share Trader Joe's and their affinity for Harry Potter,
Both begin to approach more peaceful states...

--Gertrude Rose
Personal Journal
8/3/2014

PR13: A haiku about sleep

I wrote this 2 years ago in August during a vacation from my service in Honduras.  It still resonates today.  


Sleep. Wanted. Needed.
At last a space to turn off
Blessing of my bed.

--Gertrude Rose
Personal Journal
8/13/2012

ST18: "Pitzeem and the Mare" by Robert Bly

Here is the second of the two poems by Bly that I read last week.  I hope you enjoy this one as well.

"Pitzeem and the Mare"

Let's tell the other story about Pitzeem and his horse.
When the One He Loved moved to the mountains,
He bought a mare and a saddle and started out.

He rode all day with fire coming out of his ears,
And all night. When the reins fell, the mare knew it right
Away. She turned and headed straight for the barn.

No one had told Pitzeem, but his horse had left
A new foal back in the stable. She thought of nothing
All day but his sweet face with its long nose.

Pitzeem! Pitzeem! How much time you've lost!
He put the mountain between the mare's ears again.
He slapped his own face; he was a good lover.

And every night he fell asleep once more. Friends,
Our desire to reach our true wife is great,
But the mare's love for her child is also great. Please

Understand this. The journey was a three-day trip,
But it took Pitzeem thirty years. You and I have been
Riding for years, but we're still only a day from home.


--Robert Bly

Source: Bly, Robert. 2001. The Night Abraham Called to the Stars. New York: HarperCollins Publishers.

ST17: "Nikos and His Donkey" by Robert Bly

I have been reading one poem a night from a book of poems by Robert Bly over the past month.  This past week I read two gems, I hope you enjoy.  This first one approaches the central theme of my personal poetry, gratitude, from an unexpected angle.

"Nikos and His Donkey"

Let's tell the sweet story about the day Nikos,
Wandering around with his donkey and saddlebags,
Turned up one day at a farm of Godseekers.

The Godseekers all came out when he knocked.
They welcomed him, gave him tea, brought
His donkey to the stable for oats and water.

"Stay for supper," they said. How glad he was!
They drank tea for hours. Dinner came.
They all ate happily and began to dance.

The Godseekers sang two lines over and over:
"Compared to God's, our song is only a bray;
How beautiful is the scent of a thousand hairs!"

In the morning, he said, "Could I have my donkey?"
They said: "What do you mean, your donkey?
You ate the meal! You danced. You sang the songs!"

The donkey we have loved for years may be killed
And cooked one day while we go on singing.
So don't write a single poem without gratitude.

--Robert Bly

Source: Bly, Robert. 2001. The Night Abraham Called to the Stars. New York: HarperCollins Publishers.

st16: "i carry your heart" by ee cummings

I failed to post anything last weekend because I was at the beautiful wedding of two dear friends whom I served with in Honduras.  It was a weekend of true beauty and joy.  This beautiful piece was sung to music by the groom's father at the rehearsal.  In gratitude for sharing in that beautiful weekend I share it with you all.

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in

my heart)i am never without it(anywhere

i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done

by only me is your doing,my darling)

                                                      

i fear no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet) i want

no world (for beautiful you are my world,my true)

and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows

higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

--e.e. cummings

PR12: "Life is beautiful"

I wrote this couplet about a beautiful retreat house we used to visit while living in Honduras.  The house was in "Pico Bonito", the hilly river area outside of the city where we lived.  It is truly one of the more beautiful places on this earth, and provided a great retreat to nature and its peaceful tones from life in the city.

"Life is beautiful"

Pico Bonito
Teaches us that true beauty
comes from nature

When we follow ours
And then listen to our hearts
Life is beautiful

--Gertrude Rose
Personal Journal
1/18/2012

ST15: "Where is God?" by Mark Nepo

I was recently checking Mark Nepo's website (http://www.marknepo.com/) to see if he had any new work out.  As a favorite poet of mine I like to follow his books.  I found this gem in an excerpt from his most recent poetry book Reduced to Joy.  I plan on getting the book soon and will be sure to share more as I read!

"Where is God?"

It's as if what is unbreakable—
the very pulse of life—waits for
everything else to be torn away,
and then in the bareness that
only silence and suffering and
great love can expose, it dares
to speak through us and to us.

It seems to say, if you want to last,
hold on to nothing.  If you want
to know love, let in everything.
If you want to feel the presence
of everything, stop counting the
things that break along the way.

--Mark Nepo

Source: http://www.marknepo.com/poetry_reduced.php

PR11: "Silence Reveals"

This is a short free verse poem I wrote during my visit to Honduras this past January.  It was an great space to gain perspective on my life living stateside again.

"Silence Reveals"

Focus on my breath now,
Nature's harmony calms me,
Silence reveals now,

Brain thoughts wash away,
Thoughts on my heart linger more,
Distractions now gone.

Time to deal with my heart again.

--Gertrude Rose
Personal Journal
1/12/2014

ST14: "O Great Spirit" A Traditional Native American Prayer

This is a great poem from the Native American tradition about gaining perspective  I hope you enjoy. 

"O Great Spirit"

O Great Spirit,

whose voice I hear in the winds

and whose breath gives life to all the world,

hear me!

I am small and weak,

I need your strength and wisdom.

Let me walk in beauty, and make my eyes

ever behold the red and purple sunset.

Make my hands respect the things you have

made and my ears sharp to hear your voice.

Make me wise so that I may understand

the things you have taught my people.

Let me learn the lessons you have hidden

in every leaf and rock.

I seek strength, not to be greater than my brother,

but to fight my greatest enemy--myself.

Make me always ready to come to you

with clean hands and straight eyes.

So when life fades, as the fading sunset,

my spirit will come to you without shame.

Source: Ed. McNally, C.S.C. and Storey, D.M.S. 2006. Day by Day. Notre Dame, IN: Ave Maria Press.

RW9: "In Gratitude for Nature"

I wrote this during a visit to the beautiful rose gardens at the Franciscan Monastery in DC this past weekend.  I hope you enjoy, and that it inspires you to see the beauty of whatever nature surrounds you.

"In Gratitude for Nature"

Flowing water,
soothes my soul

Vibrant flowers,
bring light to my life

Rays of the sun,
awaken my body

Ever-growing green plants,
bring renewed hope to this world

In gratitude for beautiful nature,
an ever healing gift, present for us all

--Gertrude Rose
Personal Journal
7/12/2014

PR10: "2 years, 7 days, & 16 hours later"

I wrote this sonnet 2 years, 7 days, and 16 hours into my time serving at the children's home in Honduras.  I was entering my final months there and found some clarity by summarizing my experience in sonnet form.

"2 years, 7 days, & 16 hours later"

2 years, 7 days, and 16 hours,
In the grand scheme a simple drop in time,
Yet in my heart graces came in showers,
A time of great growth with a side of lime,

Year one, wax melted, light enters anew,
Rediscover myself and God's great love,
By means of stickers and back chapel pews,
Heart fed and tested from graces above,

Year two, an unforeseen arrow appears,
Struggling heart faces city of issues,
Reach deeper levels of love despite fears,
Hidden, deep seeded graces trump bad news,

Seven days and 16 hours later,
Heart beats on, knowing God's love can cater...

--Gertrude Rose
Personal Journal
10/6/2012

ST13: A Haiku by Basho

I had the pleasure of visiting the beautiful rose gardens at the Franciscan Monastery in DC this weekend.  My visit reminded me of this classic by Basho.

So holy a place--
The snow itself is scented
At Southern Valley.

--Matsuo Basho

Source: Basho, Matsuo. 1996. The Narrow Road to Oku.  New York: Kodansha International.

RW8: "Half Birthday"

You may laugh, but I still like to celebrate my half birthdays, even at 26 (and a half) years of age.  I find joy and gratitude for life should not be contained to one celebration a year, but rather two at a minimum.  Here is an acrostic poem to celebrate my half birthday today.

"Half Birthday"

Happy half
Attentive
Life giving
Friend,

Best wishes
In earnest
Risk averse risk taker,
To you I wish
Hope eternal and
Deep peace
And of course, that you remain forever and for always, unabashedly
You!

--Gertrude Rose
Personal Journal
7/7/2014

PR9: Untitled Haiku Couplet

I wrote this pair of haikus during March of 2012, my second year working in Honduras.  The first word "bulla" is a term our kids used to describe noisy situations.  It somewhat translates to white noise in English.  The word "camino" in line 2 is a reference to the Camino of Santiago, a hike I completed in 2009.  The poems are about finding peace during times of doubt.

bulla continues
peace found in the camino
peaceful heart beating

new self acceptance
not quite balanced but closer
grateful for support

--Gertrude Rose
Personal Journal
3/14/2012

ST12: "The Country Roads" by Robert Bly

This is a piece by Robert Bly that I enjoy.  I find it has different meaning each time I read it.  I therefore hope you enjoy it as many times as you want to.

"The Country Roads"

Last night in my dream, I drank tea steeped

In iron that had failed; at the bottom

I saw ruined tines of an old pitchfork.

Everything we leave behind is testimony,

Even our nail clippings.  Then my old clothes

Are testimony of my love of nakedness.

During the months everyone spoke badly of us,

Then I had the fiercest love for you.

People still try to encourage us by speaking badly.

So many times this week I've felt like weeping.

It's natural, like the cry of Canada Geese

Who call to each other over the darkening reeds.

In my early poems I praised so many lost things.

The way crickets' cries in October carried

Them into the night sky felt right to me.

Every way of knowing is blessed by bootleggers.

Because the government does not allow delight

To be sold, you have to find it on the country roads.

--Robert Bly

Source: Bly, Robert. 2001. The Night Abraham Called to the Stars. New York: HarperCollins Publishers.

RW7: "Wave in, Wave out"

I was at the beach in Delaware for the majority of this past week.  While I cannot share salt water taffy via my blog, I can share this poem that I wrote after some quality time on the shore.

"Wave in, Wave out"

Wave crashes,
Sea foam topped salty water rolls in,
Engulfing and cooling my feet,

Now the water washes away from my feet,
As it returns to its home in the great sea,
Leaving my feet calmed and even more grounded in the wet sand,

Waves continue to roll in and roll out,
Some strong, some choppy, some soothing,
All part of the same great sea,

Each wave engulfs and cools,
Feet become more and more grounded with each one,
Ever healing,
Ever mysterious,
The great sea's waves never fail,
To meet your feet where they are,
And carry away all they are willing to let go.

--Gertrude Rose
Personal Journal
7/29/2014

PR8: "Let go, let it be"

I wrote this poem in late July of 2012.  I was approaching my last few months of work in Central America at the children's home, and attempting to embrace the many waves of emotions I was facing. 

"Let go, let it be"

Let go, let it be,
You have a peace in your heart,
Trust that, hearts don't lie,

Intense emotions,
Feel every last ounce of them,
They are real and true,

Do not hide in fear,
But embrace your time still here,
There's still 4 months left,

Fruits of growth blossom,
Let us presently love them,
Seeing them daily,

God's love carried you,
carries you, will carry you,
Let go, let it be.

--Gertrude Rose
Personal Journal
7/20/2012

ST11: "The Eglantine" by Nathaniel Pearce

I was putting a book away on my bookshelf this week and remembered about this gem of a book that I have.  It is a collection of poems written by citizens of Sierra Leone after the civil war.  Its words are incredibly powerful and speak to the depths of one's soul.

"The Eglantine"

A perfect image, all I knew.
The season changed and she was gone.
And now I searched that past of plenty
Digging stones with painted fingers.
Sometime in dreams she tells the story
Of what the future meant to us then.
And now I search that past of plenty,
Find beneath it only shadows.
Yet I search through all the seasons
Not for what is past, but promised.
Soon to find the present hope
That was at that pure beginning.

--Nathaniel Pearce

Source: Rian, Kirsten, Ed. 2009. Kalashnikov in the Sun. United States: Pika Press.

RW6: "Dear Dad,"

I am both a citizen and currently reside in the United States, where today we celebrate Father's Day.  I have a truly wonderful father.  I know everyone says this, but I can honestly say I do not know where I would be without him.  In his own sense of humor he loves to write "Roses are red..." poems on cards, emails, letters, what have you.  They always have a somewhat comical tone, but always communicate deep care.  In honor of him, I wrote my own "Roses are red..." poem for him today. 

"Dear Dad"

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Lucky as a four leaf clover am I,
because the man I call dad is you.


--Gertrude Rose
Personal Journal
6/15/2014

PR7: "Joy, Gratitude, Beauty"

I wrote this triplet of haikus during a visit this past January to the children's home I used to work at in Honduras.  After a full day of just playing around with the kids I love so much, my heart was filled with gratitude for the gift of time with every last one of them.

"Joy , Gratitude, Beauty"

Finding such pure joy,
In tablas, crayons, movies,
Honest gratitude

Beauty in nature,
Solace and Peace in water,
True grace in smiles

Thank you loving God,
In ever true gratitude,
Thank you loving God


--Gertrude Rose
Personal Journal
1/11/2014

ST10: " XXXI" by Pablo Neruda

Sometimes when we are anxious about finding answers, I find questions provide some ironic clarity.  For this reason, I decided to share another gem from Pablo Neruda for my shared thought of the week.

"XXXI"

Whom can I ask what I came
to make happen in this world?

Why do I move without wanting to,
why am I not able to sit still?

Why do I go rolling without wheels,
flying without wings or feathers,

and why did I decide to migrate
if my bones live in Chile?


Source: Neruda, Pablo. 2001.  The Book of Questions.  Port Townsend, Washington: Copper Canyon Press.

RW5:"7, yet 1"

I have been struggling recently with how my unique person fits into my current life and its prospects for the near future.  I know I am where I should be, yet I still have doubts how everything will work out.  I think this is a common struggle, and hope this poem helps others face their own doubts as well.

"7, yet 1"

Liturgical Camino Anniversary,
Rafa's 9th French Open Championship,
NBA 2014 Finals Game 2,
2 friends' one day wedding anniversary,
My 26 years, 5 months, and 1 day birthday,
Closing night of "Beauty and the Beast" at Wolftrap
Pentecost,
7 titles/ forms, one day, June 8, 2014;

human being,
full time student,
unemployed,
lover of cookies,
trained ballerina, frequenter of running and yoga,
closet poet,
friend,
7 titles/ roles, one person, me...

--Gertrude Rose
Personal Journal
6/8/2014

PR6: A Check-in Haiku from 6/26/2012

In the spirit of my five year anniversary of arriving at the cathedral during my hike on the "Camino de Santiago", I decided to share this "camino" referencing poem from 2012.  This was written as I began to train my replacement for my work in Central America.  I held a great peace in my heart despite my current challenges and lack of clarity for the future. 

owning and living vocation
tranquility among challenges
all done with much intention

uncertainties remain
but heart feels great peace
the camino in end only allows us to gain

remaining present here
also see future lurking on horizon
both are true and dear

realities still pain heart
but little shock factor remains
proved unsustainable always returning to the start

present here
cognizant of approaching there
holding so many near and dear

--Gertrude Rose
Personal Journal
6/26/2012

ST9: "The Pilgrim Prayer" by Tom Pfeffer & Joyce Rupp

Today, many people celebrate the great feast of Pentecost.  Five years ago, I had the privilege of hiking 132 km of the "Camino de Santiago" on the Northern coast of Spain.   I arrived at the cathedral in Santiago the day before this fine feast day.  While this hike and feast hold deep institutional ties, I think their true beauty lies in their flexible and adaptable nature.  The trail is simply a place for people to walk, for whatever reason their heart may hold.  The feast is a celebration of a peaceful ambiguously natured spirit that speaks differently to each of us, but never fails to touch a single heart.  This poem/ prayer is written by a fellow pilgrim of the camino, Joyce Rupp.  It does a great job of explaining this unifying spirit of simplicity that inspires me daily, and especially today.

"The Pilgrim Prayer"

Guardian of my soul,
guide me on my way this day.
Keep me safe from harm.
Deepen my relationship with you,
your Earth, and all your family.
Strengthen your love within me
that I may be a presence of your peace
in our world.

--Tom Pfeffer & Joyce Rupp

Source: Rupp, Joyce. 2005. Walking in a Relaxed Manner: Life Lessons from the Camino. New York: Orbis Books.

RW4: "We support and are supported"

I am very blessed to have truly wonderful friends.  This weekend highlighted a characteristic of our bonds that grants my heart much peace.  We are all at very different states, physically, emotionally, and in many other manners.  Despite this we manage to support one another, and allow each other to support ourselves in a very seamless manner.  I think this is one of the true beauties of deep friendships.  I wrote this poem this morning while reflecting on the topic.

"We support and are supported"

I have a friend,
When she holds hands in a group,
She prefers to both support another and be supported by another,
I think she's on to something;

One friend searches her soul in a moment of self doubt,
Two friends ready their hearts for their ever nearing wedding and beginning of their married life,
Another friend beams joy as she enters into a beautiful engagement,
Yet another calls to check in and get advice on birthday presents;

All support one another exactly where they are,
All are supported by one another exactly where they are,
My friend is on to something,
How lucky we are to be supported and to be able to support.

--Gertrude Rose
Personal Journal
6/1/2014

PR5: "Two Worlds"

As today marks the first day of June, I chose a poem I wrote in June of 2011 for this weeks 'Personal Revival'.  I wrote this while on my first vacation from working in Central America, around 10 months after I started.  It represents a time when I was processing how to remain true to myself, my historical roots, and my then present reality. 

"Two Worlds"

Two worlds
One me
Grateful for break in American life
Grateful for raw truth and beauty in Honduran life
Little by little, taking it in...

--Gertrude Rose
Personal Journal
6/28/2011

ST8: Untitled Poem on Sleep by Leolyn Louise Everett

After Maya Angelou's passing this week, I thought I would publish one of her great works for my 'Shared Thought' of the week.  I thought further on this and realized her great quotes have already deservedly flooded the blog and social media spaces this week.  Maya Angelou was a strong believer in sticking to one's own voice.  I therefore chose a poem I came across this week that seemed most in tune with my current voice.  My daily routine is somewhat in flux right now, and sleep cycles do no come as naturally as before.  This piece helped calm my mind and heart as I attempt to establish again a regular sleep cycle.

Peace, peace, thou over-anxious, foolish heart,
Rest, ever-seeking soul, calm, mad desires,
Quiet, wild dreams--this is the time of sleep.

Hold her more close than life itself.  Forget
All the excitements of the day, forget
All the problems and discomforts.  Let the night
Take you unto herself, her blessed self.

Peace, peace thou over-anxious, foolish heart,
Rest, ever-seeking soul, calm, mad desires,
Quiet, wild dreams--this is the time of sleep.

--Leolyn Louise Everett

Source: Various Authors. 1910. Sleep-Book: Some of the Poetry of Slumber. New York: The Watkins Company.

RW3: "5/25/14 Haiku"

Whenever I start a new journal, I like to write a brief something to dedicate the pages in an intentional manner.  This was the intention I wrote just last week in a new journal.  I guess this journal has an inherent haiku-like nature...time will tell.

"5/25/14 Haiku"

Hello my new friend,
Glad to have you here with me,
Together we go...

--Gertrude Rose
Personal Journal
5/25/2014

RW2: "Marathon"

This past March, I ran my first full marathon.  This was a major accomplishment made possible by many people helping me along the way.  One person literally running by my side the last seven miles of the race.  Marathons, and training for marathons, provide one a lot of time to reflect.  This is the poem that came from my pen a few days after the race.

"Marathon"

Methodical training
Appetite grows
Running provides outlet and structure
As  race day approaches
Tense nerves and knee are met with excitement and support
Happily, intentionally, unfailingly, I run
Out of body experience at the finish
Never alone.

--Gertrude Rose
Personal Journal
3/19/2014

RW1: "A year later"

I wrote this poem just two months ago.  In March of 2013, a person very close to me faced a fearful medical diagnosis.  A year later, in March of 2014, joy reigned over this group for new reasons, as the diagnosis was under control and new reasons for joy entered the forefront.  I wrote this poem in gratitude for this newfound joy.

"A Year Later"

March 2013
Fearful of diagnosis
A cake brings us peace

Confused emotions,
We all continue to walk,
timid yet strong

March 2014,
Honest Joy reigns over us,
A cake to celebrate.

--Gertrude Rose
Personal Journal
3/19/2014

PR4: "What do you do?"

About five months after my return to living in the states a friend who also lived abroad with me and I shared a funny observation.  We noticed that in the states, whenever anyone asked "What do you do?", the expected response was once about one's job or school enrollment status.  What one actually did day to day, the literal meaning of the question, was considered a strange misinterpretation of the question.  As a fun exercise, we decided to write down how we would respond to the literal question.  My response came out in a series of haikus. 


"What do you do?"

I wake up each day,
in a zombie human state,
grateful, tired, here

I go through motions,
trying to love and to serve,
Each person I see,

I do fail daily,
But I also try daily,
That's good for right now.

--Gertrude Rose
Personal Journal
5/12/2013

PR3: "Coffee Time Self Check-in"

I wrote this poem during my first few months in the states after my 28 months of living in Central America.  It was a challenging and confusing time of transition in my life.  It is not a piece of hope or strength, but rather an honest expression of where I was at in life at this exact moment. 


"Coffee Time Self Check-in"

The surface looks so pretty,
Start great new job with well-known charity,
Yoga class regular, ballet too,
Training for half marathon this month,
Reconnecting with old friends,
Seems like a picture perfect adjustment;

Inside I am lost in my "home" state,
brokenhearted on all levels,
Exercising to escape,
Yoga-ing to calm and relax my on edge nerves,
Dancing ballet to soothe and feed my soul,
Faith holds me together as I crumble daily;

Selfishness meets compassion meets confusion,
Meet me at this moment in time.


--Gertrude Rose
Personal Journal
3/1/2013

PR2: "Prayer, Life, Love"

This poem was written as I approached my two year anniversary of work at the children's home in Central America.  On a retreat with fellow staff, we were asked to write a sonnet about our spiritual life at the farm ("the farm" is shorthand for where I worked).  I wrote the following.  For me it represented a commitment to service deeper than the daily challenges and woes.  It was a way to express my belief that something greater was driving and supporting our work at the farm.

"Prayer, Life, Love"

My prayer life at the farm of child,
Better put my foundation and life here,
Holy Longing* prayers in action, seem mild,
Little words, little actions, make love near,

Work, tasks, exhaustion, always there looming,
Graces and great love fade into background,
Laudes seems chore like, private prayer fading,
But the words never fail, hope again found,

Quiet nights in the chapel bring heart peace,
Comfort found in present hearts all around,
Accept weaknesses, love, let labors cease,
Renewed soul takes in love's harmonic sound,

Our ever growing prayer life at the farm,
Inspires a love beyond human charm.

--Gertrude Rose
Personal Journal
4/11/2012

*Referring to The Holy Longing by Ronald Rolheiser

PR1: "A Wrap-Up of 2010"

I wrote this poem while living in Central America.  I had just started my work at the children's home three months prior, and was reflecting as I prepared for two more years of service.  2010 was a year of many transitions and new "cracks on my heart" as Mark Nepo would say.  This poem was written in an effort to acknowledge these transitions and cracks, and also harness the strength to move forward in my new role in life.

"A Wrap-Up of 2010"

2010 done
a life changing year
one dear to my heart

bittersweet exits
life altering transitions
heart worked overtime

new crack on my heart
but much wax also removed
light enters once again

2011
a new year and renewed me
This year I will grow

I resolve anew
loyalty to my own heart
its joys and its quirks

--Gertrude Rose
Personal Journal
12/31/2010

ST7: a haiku on grieving by Basho

Basho's ability to get at the essential truths of an issue in so few words is truly amazing.  The following pair of haikus shows two sides of grieving.  While two friends are traveling, one must return home due to illness, very aware his time on earth will soon end.  The first poem represents the ill friend's sentiments, and the second poem the sentiments of the friend who must continue on alone.  For anyone who has grieved in any capacity before, these two poems speak for themselves in their honest, beautiful, and truthful natures.
 

On, on I travel;
Though I fall and die, let it be
In the fields of clover.

Today I shall wipe out
The words written in my hat
With the dew of tears.

Source: Basho, Matsuo. 1996. The Narrow Road to Oku.  New York: Kodansha International.

ST6: "XIV" by Pablo Neruda

Pablo Neruda's poetry is like a rare gem, and our world is lucky to behold it.  In his famous text, The Book of Questions, he presents a series of poems composed entirely of questions.  As an author who is also inspired by nature, I am especially found of the "XIV".

"XIV"

And what did the rubies say
standing before the juice of the pomegranates?

Why doesn't Thursday talk itself
into coming after Friday?

Who shouted with glee
when the color blue was born?

Why does the earth grieve
when the violets appear?


Source: Neruda, Pablo. 2001.  The Book of Questions.  Port Townsend, Washington: Copper Canyon Press.

ST5: "Nada te turbe" por Santa Teresa de Avila

This is a classic poem by Saint Teresa of Avila.  I find it consoling in times of unrest and confusion of all forms.  It is best read with a café con leche in the beautiful city of Avila in Spain, but holds a similar effect in any safe space for poetry and reflection.

"Nada te turbe..."

Nada te turbe,
nada te espante,
todo se pasa,
Dios no se muda.
La paciencia
todo lo alcanza,
quien a Dios tiene
nada le falta:
solo Dios basta.

Source: Virgillo, Valdivieso, and Friedman. 2004. Aproximaciones al estudio de la literatura hispanica. New York: McGraw Hill.

ST4: "The Friend" by Mark Nepo

I had the pleasure of attending a retreat at the Fetzer Institute lead by Mark Nepo in 2010.  His poetry is powerful and honest on a level that forces one to face the inner most cracks on one's heart.  The following is a poem I find consoling in times of darkness.  I fully recommend Nepo's work in both poetry and prose if this poem speaks to you. 

"The Friend"

There is  friend who is older than birth
who danced with you before you had a body,
a friend who stays close to your life, the way
heat stays close to a flame.  Can you feel it?
I know it's hard.  I often turn and it's gone.

But you may have seen it in the glow
that remains for those few seconds after you
turn the lights off.  Or in the ache that beats
in your blood after you turn away
from something you love.

We each have a friend older than birth,
more patient than the ocean, more giving
than the rain, a place of safety
waiting like a nest of song whenever
we are ready.

All we have to do is put down the many
things we believe we have to carry, put down
everything we've worked for, not deny it or
curse it, but simply undo our grip, simply
untie our need to have it last.

If we can't, the friend will wait
until we die, when it will carry our pain
like seed into God, the way the song swallows
smoke when no one's looking.  But while alive,
if we can find what's alive, the friend will
stretch its honeyed thread between our
heart and eye to sweeten what we know.

Yes there is a friend older than birth
who dislikes mirrors, but adores windows.

And when you look upon something with
love and close your eyes, the trace of light
you see is the litmus of the Divine, and all
you love, all you see with love, all you hold
in your heart after love--all are images that
the friend carves on the cave of your soul, for
the times you fall down and are forced
to look within.

Source: Nepo, Mark. 2007. Surviving Has Made Me Crazy. New Jersey: CavanKerry Press.

ST3: "One Rose is Enough" by Robert Bly

I came across this poem while scrolling through a used bookstore one day.  It seemed to express what my own words could not.  Robert Bly is a classic poet with many great poems, I highly recommend reading his further works if this piece connects with you on any level.

"One Rose is Enough"

One rosy face from the world's garden for us is enough,
And the shade of that one cypress in the field
Strolling along gracefully for us is enough.

I want to be far away from people whose words
And deeds don't match. Among the morose and heavy-
Hearted, a heavy glass of wine for us is enough.

Some people say that good deeds will earn them
A gated house in heaven. Being rakes and natural beggars
A room in the tavern for us is enough.

Sit down beside the stream sometimes and watch
Life flow past. That brief hint of this world
That passes by so swiftly for us is enough.

Look at the flow of money and the suffering
Of the world. If this glimpse of profit and loss
Is not enough for you, for us it is enough.

The dearest companion of all is here. What
Else is there to look for? The delight of a few words
With the soul friend for us is enough.

Don't send me away from your door, oh, God,
Even to Paradise. Your alleyway, compared
To all space and time, for us is enough.

It's inappropriate, Hafez, for you to complain
Of your gifts from Fate. Your nature is like water,
Your beautiful flowing poems for us are enough.

--Robert Bly

— The Angel Knocking on the Tavern Door (2008)
     translated by Robert Bly & Leonard Lewisohn
     HarperCollins, New York, 2008, pp. 31-32

ST2: "Ulysses" by Lord Alfred Tennyson

This poem by Lord Alfred Tennyson was written in 1833, and published in 1842.  It is a classic that requires no introduction.  I recommend you read it periodically and see how it speaks to you each time.  I have found that it never fails to teach me a new lesson whenever I take the time to read its rich text.

"Ulysses"

It little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Match'd with an aged wife, I mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
That hoard and sleep, and feed, and know not me.

I cannot rest from travel: I will drink
Life to the lees:  All times I have enjoy'd
Greatly, have suffer'd greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone; on shore, and when
Thro' scudding drifts the rainy Hyades
Vext the dim sea:  I am become a name;
For always roaming with a hungry heart
Much have I seen and known; cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments,
Myself not least, but honor'd of them all;
And drunk delight of battle with my peers,
Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy.
I am a part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethro'
Gleams that untravell'd world, whose margin fades
For ever and for ever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use!
As tho' to breathe were life.  Life piled on life
Were all too little, and of one to me
Little remains:  But every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things; and vile it were
For some three suns to store and hoard myself,
And this gray spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bounds of human thought.
 
This is my son, mine own Telemachos,
To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle-
Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfill
This labour, by slow prudence to make mild
A rugged people, and thro' soft degrees
Subdue them to the useful and the good.
Most blameless is he, centred in the sphere
Of common duties, decent not to fail
In offices of tenderness, and pay
Meet adoration to my household gods,
When I am gone.  He works his work, I mine.

There lies the port, the vessel puffs her sail:
There gloom the dark broad seas.  My mariners,
Souls that have tol'd and wrought, and thought with me-
That ever with a frolic welcome took
The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed
Free hearts, free foreheads - you and I are old;
Old age hath yet his honour and his toil;
Death closes all:  but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:
The long day wanes:  the slow moon climbs:  the deep
Moans round with many voices.  Come, my friends,
'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
It may be that we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved heaven and earth; that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

--Lord Alfred Tennyson

ST1: Basho's pepper pod

One of the most famous haiku poets of all time is Matsuo Basho.  This Japanese author inspires me in his ability to communicate incredible depth and meaning in just 17 syllables.  The following pair of haikus demonstrates his commitment to the integrity of haiku poetry, not as a trick of arranging syllables, but rather as a life giving artistic form.

Take a pair of wings

From a dragonfly, you would

Make a pepper pod

 

 

Add a pair of wings

To a pepper pod, you would

Make a dragonfly

 

--Basho

 

When Basho was presented with the first haiku, he said that this could not be a haiku as is deconstructs life and beauty.  He then offered the second as a proper haiku, one that creates life and beauty. 

 

 

Source of poem: 

Lederach, John Paul. 2004. The Moral Imagination: The Art and Soul of Building Peace. New York: Oxford University Press.

 

Welcome

Welcome to my blog, “In gratitude: poems from a humbled heart.”  My name is Gertrude Rose.  I am lover and writer of poetry, in all its forms.  I have no professional training in critiquing or writing poetry, but I do recognize its beauty and wisdom.  It has helped me process and move forward from some of the most joyous and most challenging moments (and every moment in between) in my life.  I created this blog in hope that if I shared these verses, they may help another through whatever they face in life as well. 

I will present three types of poems in this blog:

(1) Shared Thoughts (ST): Poems from various authors throughout time and languages that have spoken to me.  These range from classic epic poems, to modern haikus.  They include both the Spanish and English language as mediums.  The common theme among them is that my brain and heart shared the thoughts of the author at some point in time.  The beauty is that the poems continue to teach me in different ways as I read them at different phases in life.

(2) Personal Revivals (PR): These are poems I wrote in the past that continue to hold a special place in my heart.  Many were written while I was working in Central America at a children’s home.  Some names have been changed to respect the privacy of those involved, but the message remains clear. 

(3) Recently Written (RW): These are poems I have recently written.  These and all the poems will take many forms, and cover an array of themes. 

I will publish one of each type of poem each Sunday.  I have included 7 ST, 4 PR, and 3 RW as a foundation and a window to both my tastes and personal style in poetry.

If you have any questions or comments, please feel free to post them at any time.  You are also welcome to email me at gertruderose88@gmail.com.