Tag: William Stafford

“A Ritual to Read to Each Other” by William Stafford

On By Christina's WordsIn Poetry9 Comments

If you don’t know the kind of person I am
and I don’t know the kind of person you are
a pattern that others made may prevail in the world
and following the wrong god home we may miss our star.

For there is many a small betrayal in the mind,
a shrug that lets the fragile sequence break
sending with shouts the horrible errors of childhood
storming out to play through the broken dyke.

And as elephants parade holding each elephant’s tail,
but if one wanders the circus won’t find the park,
I call it cruel and maybe the root of all cruelty
to know what occurs but not recognize the fact.

And so I appeal to a voice, to something shadowy,
a remote important region in all who talk:
though we could fool each other, we should consider—
lest the parade of our mutual life get lost in the dark.

For it is important that awake people be awake,
or a breaking line may discourage them back to sleep;
the signals we give – yes or no, or maybe—
should be clear: the darkness around us is deep.

 

“A Ritual to Read to Each Other” by William Stafford, from The Way It Is: New and Selected Poems © Graywolf Press.

 

(With a grateful nod to long-time reader “Strumsky” who has mentioned this as a favorite poem in comments past; I didn’t forget. ❤  A poignant poem for a world that seems to be “lost in the dark.” One of my favorites. ~Christy)

 

“Cherries” by Barbara La Morticella

On By Christina's WordsIn Poetry7 Comments

Fireweed loves the yard
and the fire that conjured it
into the light.

And the scarlet elderberry
loves the old junkpile
          it leans against.

The morning glory smothers everything
in an embrace: the fence,
the wood workbench,
the rusted steel.

Here’s a summer day that’s so slow
even the light
          moves like honey;

Daisies jump fences
          and then just mill around.

Here’s a cherry tree that’s so rich
when it offers its heart to the birds,

every cherry
          is a year of cherries.

“Cherries” by Barbara LaMorticella

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Barbara very kindly allowed us to feature “Cherries” here on Words for the Year, and even included this little bit of backstory. As I know many of you are William Stafford fans (waves to James R. especially), I thought you would enjoy her note:

I’m happy you like Cherries!   You may be interested in the back story:   I began this poem after I got back from a workshop with William Stafford (his one-week summer workshop was 1/3 of my formal poetry education!) I wasn’t able to finish it for a while (lacking Stafford’s famous ability to write a poem a day by simply saying “welcome, welcome” to everything that comes). But the last line came to me the next summer,  and I thought of Stafford… at 80,  it would be heartening to realize that every cherry is a year of cherries!  I presented it to him the summer after the workshop at what may have been the last poetry reading he gave before he died.

 

 

“Freedom” by William Stafford

On By Christina's WordsIn Poetry, Reader Recommended2 Comments

Freedom is not following a river.
Freedom is following a river
     though, if you want to.

It is deciding now by what happens now.
It is knowing that luck makes a difference.

No leader is free; no follower is free–
     the rest of us can often be free.
Most of the world are living by
creeds too odd, chancy, and habit-forming
     to be worth arguing about by reason.

If you are oppressed, wake up about
four in the morning; most places
you can usually be free some of the time
     if you wake up before other people.

from The Way It Is: New and Selected Poems
Copyright 1998 by Graywolf Press

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This week of Words is being hosted by poet Brian Dean Powers. We hope you enjoy his selections. Brian shares his poetry at The Body’s Heated Speech. I hope you will stop by to say hello. Thank you, Brian, for your support and for the beautiful Words. ~ Christy

“Yes” by William Stafford

On By Christina's WordsIn Music, Poetry1 Comment

It could happen any time, tornado,
earthquake, Armageddon. It could happen.
Or sunshine, love, salvation.

It could, you know. That’s why we wake
and look out — no guarantees
in this life.

But some bonuses, like morning,
like right now, like noon,
like evening.

William Stafford from The Way It Is

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“First Day of My Life” by Bright Eyes

Remember the time you drove all night
Just to meet me in the morning
And I thought it was strange you said everything changed
You felt as if you’d just woke up
And you said “this is the first day of my life
I’m glad I didn’t die before I met you
But now I don’t care I could go anywhere with you
And I’d probably be happy”

“Scars” by William Stafford

On By Christina's WordsIn Music, Poetry2 Comments

They tell how it was, and how time
came along, and how it happened
again and again. They tell
the slant life takes when it turns
and slashes your face as a friend.

Any wound is real. In church
a woman lets the sun find
her cheek, and we see the lesson:
there are years in that book; there are sorrows
a choir can’t reach when they sing.

Rows of children lift their faces of promise,
places where the scars will be.

William Stafford, Americans’ Favorite Poems: edited by  Maggie Dietz and Robert Pinsky

 

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“Scars” (Acoustic) by James Bay

We grow apart
I watch you on the red horizon
Your lion’s heart
Will protect you under stormy skies
And I will always be listening for your laughter and your tears
And as soon as I can hold you once again
I won’t let go of you, I swear
We live through scars this time
But I’ve made up my mind
We can’t leave us behind anymore
We’ll have to hurt for now
But next time there’s no doubt
‘Cause I can’t go without you anymore