Tuesday Poem: "Untitled" by Rainer Maria Rilke

You must suffer long, not knowing what, 

until suddenly, out of bitterly chewed fruit

your suffering's taste comes forth in you. 

Then almost instantly you'll love what's tasted. No one

will ever talk you out of it. 

Paris, 1913

by Rainer Maria Rilke (translated from the German by Edward Snow)

For more information about the poet, Rainer Maria Rilke, see:

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/rainer-maria-rilke

Tuesday Poem: "Untitled" by Marianne Williamson

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine as children do. It's not just in some of us; it is in everyone. And as we let our own lights shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

by Marianne Williamson

For more information about poet and spiritual teacher, Marianne Williamson, see:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marianne_Williamson

"Untitled" by Michael Leunig

The smear on the footpath
The blot on the floor
The stain on the table
The scratch on the door
The smudge on the ceiling
The splotch on the chair:
The marks that remind me
My true love was there.

by Michael Leunig

"Untitled" by Michael Leunig

Life is but a leap into a bucket;
Seize a juicy saveloy and suck it;
Tell your enemies to go and shove it;
Plunge into your life and try to love it.

by Michael Leunig

Tuesday Poem: "Untitled" by Li Shangyin

The east wind sighs, the fine rains come:
Beyond the pool of water-lilies, the noise of faint thunder.
A gold toad gnaws the lock. Open it, burn the incense.
A tiger of jade pulls the rope. Draw from the well and escape.
Chia's daughter peeped through the screen when Han the clerk was young,
The goddess of the River left her pillow for the great Prince of Wei.
Never let your heart open with the spring flowers:
One inch of love is an inch of ashes.

by Li Shangyin

Sorry, no photographs are available as Li Shangyin shunned the limelight and also he was born before the invention of the camera.

For more about the poet, Li Shangyin, see:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Li_Shangyin