not sure if anyone is interested in this but here is a list of the most joyfully vital poems I know :)
You're the Top by Ellen Bass
Grand Fugue by Peter E. Murphy
Our Beautiful Life When It's Filled with Shrieks by Christopher Citro
Everything Is Waiting For You by David Whyte
Lawrence Ferlinghetti Is Alive! by Emily Sernaker
Instructions for Assembling the Miracle by Peter Cooley
Barton Springs by Tony Hoagland
Footnote to Howl by Allen Ginsberg
Song of the Open Road by Walt Whitman
Tomorrow, No, Tomorrower by Bradley Trumpfheller
At Last the New Arriving by Gabrielle Calvocoressi
To a Self-Proclaimed Manic Depressive Ex-Stripper Poet, After a Reading by Jeannine Hall Gailey
In the Presence of Absence by Richard Widerkehr
Chillary Clinton Said 'We Have to Bring Them to Heal' by Cortney Lamar Charleston
Midsummer by Charles Simic
Today by Frank O'Hara
Naturally by Stephen Dunn
Life is Slightly Different Than You Think It Is by Arthur Vogelsang
Ode to My Husband, Who Brings the Music by Zeina Hashem Beck
The Imaginal Stage by D.A. Powell
Lucky Life by Gerald Stern
Beginner's Lesson by Malcolm Alexander
Presidential Poetry Briefing by Albert Haley
A Poem for Uncertainties by Mark Terrill
On Coming Home by Lisa Summe
G-9 by Tim Dlugos
Five Haiku by Billy Collins
The Fates by David Kirby
Upon Receiving My Inheritance by William Fargason
Variation on a Theme by W. S. Merwin
Easy as Falling Down Stairs by Dean Young
Psalm 150 by Jericho Brown
Pantoum for Sabbouha by Zeina Hashem Beck
ASMR by Corey Van Landingham
A Welcome by Joanna Klink
From Blossoms by Li-Young Lee
At Church, I Tell My Mom She’s Singing Off-Key and She Says, by Michael Frazier
We do not need to get rid of anger in order to give up hatred.
We do not need to renounce enjoyment in order to give up desire.
We do not need to neglect our safety in order to give up fear.
Cease to indulge the feelings that, while pretending to be necessary, actually destroy the world.
(I’m the crazy one who thinks that words reach people)
Anne Sexton, from ‘A Self-Portrait in Letters’ — W. D. Snodgrass, 11th January 1959
award-winning palestinian children's illustrator baraa awoor writes:
"what use is it to be an illustrator of children's books when the world has sentenced the children of your country to the death penalty, to vanish, to genocide?"
some of baraa's illustrations:
this is an illustration for youssef, whose mother is remembered running desperately into the hospital asking if anyone had seen a "small white boy with beautiful curly hair, his name is youssef," a description which was remembered by millions when she finally identified his body:
this illustration is for young omar, who was hugging his little brother and teaching him how to repeat the shahada after him (a prayer spoken by muslims before their death) as he lay on his hospital bed:
"we want a new year that doesn't kill us or our children, we want it a year without blood, without screaming, without pain, we want a new attempt to get our lives back, or something that resembled our life, even if life is a lie we still cling to it, return life to us—a new year's card unlike any other year:"
Andrea Gibson, Lord of the Butterflies
Thurs,1st feb | Feburay started with thunderstorms for me, and im not complaining. It feels so weird to make a post after more than a year. i have completely forgotten my ways, regardless im more than happy to be back on here!
Day 1 of 30nym: What are your main goals for this challenge?
I struggle with having the discipline i want so i hope this could somehow peer pressure me into pushing a bit more? Also i wanted to make a comeback on here lol
🎧: Love wins all _IU
fall is here 🍂🍁
[grabs your shirt] listen. listen to me. the practical is holy. the everyday is sacred. the simple act of surviving is divine. do you get it? sanctity begins at home, in the hands that build and the lives we live and the deaths we die and the worms that eat our bodies. if making something by hand is not worthy of veneration then nothing is.
Neville Goddard, from The Power of Awareness
Text ID: The whole of creation exists in you, and it is your destiny to become increasingly aware of its infinite wonders and to experience ever greater and grander portions of it.
the art of cruelty: a reckoning, maggie nelson
And if someday the uncertainty of this world becomes too overwhelming, I hope you remember that some mysteries aren’t meant to be solved, they’re meant to be lived.