Can any poetry be dismissed if it is inspired in one’s heart? ~trish

I sometimes express myself through poetry, so did my mother. She wrote many poems in her 87 years. Most of hers were about her faith and God’s love for her. Mine tend to be about life, my crazy thoughts and experiences.

For more than twenty years I wrote a Christmas poem as part of the holiday tradition with friends. It was right in there with, and as expected as, the turkey and plum pudding. At the urging of my Auntie in 2017, I created a small illustrated book with them all.

When I was little, I would memorize long poems and bible verses. Once I remember reciting all of Luke 2:1-20, the nativity story of Jesus, at a church Christmas event.

I still remember “The Duel” by Eugene Field that I memorized in 2nd grade. “The gingham dog and the calico cat, side by side on the table sat.” Also “My Shadow” by Robert Louis Stevenson. “I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me, and what can be the use of him is more than I can see.”

I have collected many poems since then. I gathered them from clippings and hand wrote copies of ones I found in books. More recently, I search the internet to find poems that helped me through a particular joyous or trying time. Here are just a few.

As far as the great poets, I have to admit I have not dug deeply into a lot of their work. I have a book of Walt Whitman poems. I connect with Emily Dickerson’s poem, ‘Hope is the Thing with Feathers.” We must always have hope even in the harshest of times.

I have a verse taped above my desk from a poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. It was printed on a set of stationary I bought in the 70’s. “Friendship like the flight of birds cannot be put in written words, Never yet has poet penned, all it means to have a friend.”

Another poet I like is a newcomer. He began writing around 2015 during a faith crisis while suffering from depression. His work is real and raw about the human condition and his questions and doubts about life. These are questions that touch us all. He has written a series of books called, “Hey God.” In these books, he poses his questions to God. He then writes what he perceives God’s answer would be. His name is John Roedel.

I have a few that I have connected with in different phases of life. I love the poem, “The Song of the River” by William Randolph Hearst that gives an analogy of life and death.

I adopted the poem, “May Our Friendship Last Forever,” by New York Poet Nicholas Gordon, as a poem for me and Chrissie. I send it to him every year on our anniversary.

A short verse I read everyday, because I have a worn handwritten version of it that I made over 30 years ago in my closet, is by G. Sterling Leiby. I keep it there as a daily reminder to not dwell on the past. I tried researching more about Leiby. I didn’t find much except that he wrote short verses that appeared in the Wall Street Journal and other magazines.

As for a favorite, which is not really “the favorite” but one I have favored for a while is transcribed below. It provoked a lot of thought and inspired me to dig deep for inner strength, to look to myself for happiness first and it made me realize no one can make you happy unless you are happy with and like yourself. It is, “Comes the Dawn.”

The poem itself is surrounded by controversy because several people claim to be the author. In 1973 a woman named Veronica Shoffstall claimed she wrote it when she was 19. Several other women have also claimed to be the authentic author. Others (those who are in-the-know about poetry and literature) say the poem is one half of a longer poem “Aprendiendo”, which was written in Spanish by Jorge Luis Borges (24 August 1899 – 14 June 1986), an Argentinian poet, writer and essayist.

I first read it in the early 70’s. My memory says it was in the book, “Our Bodies, Ourselves,” that came out in 1973. However, I can’t find any information that the poem was included in its pages. That book started a firestorm itself, but we’ll save that for another time.

Comes The Dawn

After a while you learn the subtle difference,
Between holding a hand and chaining a soul.

And you learn that love doesn’t mean leaning,
And company doesn’t mean security.

And you begin to learn that kisses aren’t contracts,
And presents aren’t promises.

And you begin to accept your defeats,
With your head up and your eyes open,
With the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child.

And you learn to build all your roads on today,
Because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain for plans,
And futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.

After a while you learn,
That even sunshine burns if you get too much.

So you plant your garden and decorate your own soul,
Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.

And you learn that you really can endure…

That you really are strong,
And you really do have worth.