A Poem for Mother's Day: "Sonnets are Full of Love" by Christina Rossetti

Our mom

Sonnets are full of love, and this my tome
Has many sonnets: so here now shall be
One sonnet more, a love sonnet, from me

A Poem for Sunday: The Arrow and the Song by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

A Poem for Sunday: The Arrow and the Song by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I shot an arrow into the air, 
It fell to earth, I knew not where; 
For, so swiftly it flew, the sight 
Could not follow it in its flight. 

A Poem for Sunday: Life by Henry Van Dyke

Autumn galss window with raindrops ©Victoria Shibut /123rf
Let me but live my life from year to year, With forward face and unreluctant soul; Not hurrying to, nor turning from the goal; Not mourning for the things that disappear In the dim past, nor holding back in fear From what the future veils; but with a whole And happy heart, that pays its toll To Youth and Age, and travels on with cheer. So let the way wind up the hill or down, O'er rough or smooth, the journey will be joy: Still seeking what I sought when but a boy, New friendship, high adventure, and a crown, My heart will keep the courage of the quest, And hope the road's last turn will be the best.

More poems for Sunday!
JenSan Jasmine Rose Petals Pillar Candle
A Poem for Sunday: Friendship IXX by Khalil Gibran

A Poem for Sunday: Friendship IXX by Khalil Gibran

And a youth said, "Speak to us of Friendship." 

Your friend is your needs answered. 

He is your field which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving. 

And he is your board and your fireside. 
November 22, 2015

A Poem for Sunday - "What We Want" by Linda Pastan

Dandelion: <a href='http://www.123rf.com/profile_janbussan'>janbussan / 123RF Stock Photo</a>
What we want is never simple.
We move among the things we thought we wanted: a face, a room, an open book and these things bear our names-- now they want us.
But what we want appears in dreams, wearing disguises.
We fall past, holding out our arms and in the morning our arms ache.
We don't remember the dream, but the dream remembers us.
It is there all day as an animal is there under the table, as the stars are there even in full sun.
August 16, 2015

A Poem For Sunday: The Summer Sun Shone Round Me by Robert Louis Stevenson

The summer sun shone round me,
The folded valley lay
In a stream of sun and odour,
That sultry summer day.

The tall trees stood in the sunlight
As still as still could be,
But the deep grass sighed and rustled
And bowed and beckoned me.

The deep grass moved and whispered
And bowed and brushed my face.
It whispered in the sunshine:
“The winter comes apace.”

Robert Louis Stevenson

A Poem for Mother's Day: The Song of the Old Mother by William Butler Yeats

I rise in the dawn, and I kneel and blow
Till the seed of the fire flicker and glow;
And then I must scrub and bake and sweep
Till stars are beginning to blink and peep;
And the young lie long and dream in their bed
Of the matching of ribbons for bosom and head,
And their day goes over in idleness,
And they sigh if the wind but lift a tress:
While I must work because I am old,
And the seed of the fire gets feeble and cold.

A Poem for Easter: A Prayer in Spring by Robert Frost

OH, give us pleasure in the flowers today;
And give us not to think so far away
As the uncertain harvest; keep us here
All simply in the springing of the year.

Oh, give us pleasure in the orcahrd white,
Like nothing else by day, like ghosts by night;
And make us happy in the happy bees,
The swarm dilating round the perfect trees.

And make us happy in the darting bird
That suddenly above the bees is heard,
The meteor that thrusts in with needle bill,
And off a blossom in mid air stands still.

For this is love and nothing else is love,
To which it is reserved for God above
To sanctify to what far ends he will,
But which it only needs that we fulfill.

HAPPY EASTER and a wonderful spring from Jennifer and Sandra

A Poem for Sunday - Reluctance by Robert Frost

Out through the fields and the woods
And over the walls I have wended;
I have climbed the hills of view
And looked at the world, and descended;
I have come by the highway home,
And lo, it is ended.

A Poem for Sunday: A Poem of Friendship by Nikki Giovanni

We are not lovers 
because of the love 
we make 
but the love 
we have