poetry

As I walked down the long, dark hall to their bedroom I could hear her lilting voice, strong and sure.  He was in bed with his eyes closed, and she sat beside him.  I joined her and after a little small talk, I asked about the beautiful words I had heard her reading to him.

She laughed and said it was just lines from their favorite poems, that they always would quote to each other.  She thought it might feel comforting for him to hear those familiar words filling their room again.

I had never heard these poems before.  But I am always mesmerized by the power of words.  Lyrical and evocative. Novel and appealing.  I scribbled down a few notes so I could look  the poems up later. 

Though my soul may set in darkness, 

it will rise in perfect light; 

I have loved the stars too fondly 

to be fearful of the night.

The Old Astronomer to His Pupil by Sarah Williams.

and

   In the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of

             pleasures. For in the dew of little things, does the heart find its morning and is refreshed.”  The Prophet by Khalil Gilbran

As I watched this couple, in their mid nineties, I again realized what a different world they grew up in.  Not to idealize the past.... but picture a world light years before Mario Kart, skater brands, Jack Ass 3 or mopeds.  Men wore ties and hats, they danced gracefully, they hand-wrote letters and opened car doors.  And they read, memorized and quoted poetry to the women they were wooing.


Pardon me while I swoon for a moment.


It was a different time.  Quentin Tarantino summed it up by saying "You can't write poetry on the computer."


Close your eyes and have someone read these words to you.

And the night shall be filled with music,

And the cares, that infest the day,

Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs. 

And as silently steal away. 

The Day is Done by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Now tell me you aren't transported somewhere else.


Poetry is the language in which man explores his own amazement  wrote Christopher Fry.  Maybe that is part of what moves us.  Being reminded to wonder and be amazed. To slow down and listen well. To invest in a rhythm and imagery.  To let beautiful words become a part of our conversation and character.


I did what I could tonight.  Amidst piles of laundry, I pulled my trusty volume of Robert Frost off the shelf.  I made my eleven year old boy and my twelve year old boy put down their Nintendo DS's and listen to Fences Make Good Neighbors and Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening.  They aren't converts yet.  But I feel better knowing their souls are the tiniest bit infused with poetry.  

Sunshine cannot bleach the snow, 
Nor time unmake what poets know. 
~Ralph Waldo Emerson