Special Covid-19 Inspirational Poem: "As You Go Through Life" by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Don't look for the flaws as you go through life; 
   And even when you find them, 
It is wise and kind to be somewhat blind 
   And look for the virtue behind them. 
For the cloudiest night has a hint of light 
   Somewhere in its shadows hiding; 
It is better by far to hunt for a star, 
   Than the spots on the sun abiding.

The current of life runs ever away 
   To the bosom of God's great ocean. 
Don't set your force 'gainst the river's course 
   And think to alter its motion. 
Don't waste a curse on the universe-- 
   Remember it lived before you. 
Don't butt at the storm with your puny form, 
   But bend and let it go o'er you.

The world will never adjust itself 
   To suit your whims to the letter. 
Some things must go wrong your whole life long, 
   And the sooner you know it the better. 
It is folly to fight with the Infinite, 
   And go under at last in the wrestle; 
The wiser man shapes into God's plan 
   As water shapes into a vessel.

by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

For more information on poet, Ella Wheeler Wilcox, see:

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

Tuesday Poem: "Where I am Not" by Omar Sakr

I ask the new migrant if he regrets leaving Russia.
We have dispensed already with my ancestry.
He says no. For a time, he was depressed. He found
with every return he missed what he left behind.
A constant state of this. Better to love by far
where you are. He taps the steering wheel of his car,
the hum of the engine an imperceptible tremble
in us. When he isn’t driving, he works tending
to new trees. I’ve seen these saplings popping
up all over the suburbs, tickling the bellies
of bridges, the new rooted darlings of the State.
The council spent a quarter mil on them &
someone, he—Lilian—must ensure the dirt
holds. Gentrification is climate-friendly now.
I laugh and he laughs, and we eat the distance
between histories. He checks on his buds daily.
Are they okay? They are okay. They do not need
him, but he speaks, and they listen or at least
shake a leaf. What a world where you can live off
land by loving it. If only we cared for each other
this way. The council cares for their investment.
The late greenery, that is, not Lilian, who shares
his ride on the side. I wonder what it would cost
to have men be tender to me regularly, 
to be folded into his burly, to be left on the side
of the road as he drove away, exhausted. Even
my dreams of tenderness involve being used
& I’m not sure who to blame: colonialism,
capitalism, patriarchy, queerness or poetry?
Sorry, this is a commercial for the Kia Sportage
now. This is a commercial for Lilian’s thighs.
He didn’t ask for this and neither did I—how
language drapes us together, how stories tongue
each other in the back seat and the sky blurs
out of frame. There are too many agonies
to discuss here, and I am nearly returned.
He has taken me all the way back, around
the future flowering, back to where I am not,
to the homes I keep investing in as harms.
I should fill them with trees. Let the boughs
cover the remembered boy, cowering
under a mother, her raised weapon
not the cane but the shattering within,
let the green tear through the wall
paper, let life replace memory. Lilian, I left
you that day, and in the leaving, a love
followed. Isn’t that a wonder and a wound?
Tell me which it is, I confess I mistake the two.
I walk up the stairs to my old brick apartment
where the peach tree reaches for the railing,
a few blushing fruits poking through the bars,
eager to brush my leg, to say linger, halt.
I want to stop, to hold it for real, just once
but I must wait until I am safe.

by Omar Sakr

For more information about poet, Omar Sakr, see:

https://omarsakr.com/about/

Special Covid-19 Inspirational Poem: "Still Here" by Langston Hughes

I been scarred and battered.
My hopes the wind done scattered.
   Snow has friz me,
   Sun has baked me,

Looks like between 'em they done
   Tried to make me

Stop laughin', stop lovin', stop livin'--
   But I don't care!
   I'm still here!

by Langston Hughes

For more information on poet, Langston Hughes, see:

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

Special Covid-19 Inspirational Poem: "Hope is the thing with feathers" by Emily Dickinson

"Hope" is the thing with feathers -
That perches in the soul -
And sings the tune without the words -
And never stops - at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -
And sore must be the storm -
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm -

I've heard it in the chillest land -
And on the strangest Sea -
Yet - never - in Extremity,
It asked a crumb - of me.

by Emily Dickinson

For more information about poet, Emily Dickinson, see:

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

Boris Longbottom, * (*NOT HIS REAL NAME), President, Burglars Assn. NZ

Special Covid-19 Inspirational Poem: "Caged Bird" by Maya Angelou

The free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.


But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.


The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill for the caged bird
sings of freedom


The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.


But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing


The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.

by Maya Angelou

For more information about poet, Maya Angelou, see:

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

Special Covid-19 Inspirational Poem: "Barter" by Sara Teasdale

Life has loveliness to sell,
All beautiful and splendid things,
Blue waves whitened on a cliff,
Soaring fire that sways and sings,
And children's faces looking up
Holding wonder like a cup.

Life has loveliness to sell,
Music like a curve of gold,
Scent of pine trees in the rain,
Eyes that love you, arms that hold,
And for your spirit's still delight,
Holy thoughts that star the night.

Spend all you have for loveliness,
Buy it and never count the cost;
For one white singing hour of peace
Count many a year of strife well lost,
And for a breath of ecstasy
Give all you have been, or could be.

by Sara Teasdale

For more information about the poet, Sara Teasdale, see:

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