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Pastimes : A Poetry Corner -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: Merritt who wrote (74)	9/4/1998 4:04:00 PM
From: Robert Douglas Hickey	Read Replies (1) \| Respond to of 1582

<I'm not a poet, but he spoke to me.> And that is the goal of poetry: - To articulate universal truths - To touch the heart, feed the mind - To do so with brevity and elegance Thank you for providing a great example. Robert Douglas Hickey

To: Merritt who wrote (74)	9/6/1998 10:24:00 PM
From: Mephisto	Respond to of 1582

A Bitterness I believe you did not have a happy life I believe you were cheated. I believe your best friends were loneliness and misery. I believe your busiest enemies, were anger and depression. I believe joy was a game you could never play without stumbling. I believe comfort, though you craved it, was forever a stranger. I believe music had to be melancholy or not at all. I believe no trinket, no precious metal, shone so bright as ..your bitterness. I believe you lay down at last in your coffin none the wiser and ..unassuaged. Oh. cold and dreamless under the wild, amoral, reckless, peaceful ..flowers of the hillsides. by Mary Oliver When I am down-in-the dumps, I like to read Oliver's poem. I hope it helps.

To: Merritt who wrote (74)	9/6/1998 10:40:00 PM
From: Mephisto	Read Replies (1) \| Respond to of 1582

The Sun Have you ever seen anything in your life more wonderful than the way the sun, every evening, relaxed and easy, floats toward the horizon and into the clouds or the hills, or the rumpled sea, and is gone----- and how it slides again out of the blackness, every morning, on the other side of the world, like a red flower streaming upward on its heavenly oils, say, on a morning in early summer, at its perfect imperial distance----- and have you ever felt for anything such wild love---- do you think there is anywhere, in any language, a word billowing enough for the pleasure that fills you, as the sun reaches out, as it warms you as you stand there empty-handed---- or have you too turned from this world---- or have you too gone crazy for power, for things? by Mary Oliver