Hope

Oh yes, E.D. was a stellar poet! Speaking of hope; the man came home to his wife, Jane, his clothes tattered,  scratches all over both arms, panting heavily, turned to to her," Jane, I HOPE you have dinner ready, I'm tired and hungry. She smiled and said, "I do, Tarzan, come sit here." It's a jungle out there and as long as we have HOPE, we WILL get through this!!! SEPARATELY, TOGETHER, with tears and laughter, support and courage. Thanks for sharing, Hugs, Ant B  

I love you!    so kind!

Same to you but more of it, you sweet little cootie pal, you!!!  Squeezies, Ant B

When I was 12 years old, I really started to have serious emotional problems.  I felt alone in the world and, in fact, I was.  My mother never was a functional person and I had no brothers or sisters.

Through luck, I discovered poetry and it was a great help to me.  My favorite poem back then was by Emily Dickinson:

Will there really be a morning?
Is there such a thing as day?
Could I see it from the mountains
If I were as tall as they?
Has it feet like water-lilies?
Has it feathers like a bird?
Is it brought from famous countries
Of which I have never heard?
Oh some scholar! Oh some sailor!
Oh some wise men from the skies!
Please to tell a little pilgrim
Where the place called morning lies!

I felt this poem was written for me and it was talking about the search for peace of mind.  I saw a quote from it on the net today and found the entire poem.  It still has an uplifting effect on me, so I am sharing it with you.

Eric,

This is wonderful!     I discovered poems early also.  my Mom was never home, she worked nights so my Dad pretty much raised me.   I have a Lot of sisters, but there is huge gap in our ages,   so I was like an only child.  

Reading for me has always been a passion,  the words of Emily Dickinson,  Jon Donne.

Emily seems to see into me sometimes.

To many to count.  The paradoxes of GK Chesterton, the sorrow of Camus.  The poetry. I love it all!

Thanks so much for sharing!

That was absolutely beautiful......wah..............wah..................

Really magnificent.
Thanks for sharing it with us.

So - here is another one.  I think the great magic of poetry is that it speaks to us as individuals and allows us to read in our own unique circumstance.

I interpret this as a statement of how tempting it is to give up when things are tough -- particularly the treatment we have to go through.

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there's some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.  

-Robert Frost

Oh Eric, I needed that today! Thank you so much! I love Robert Frost also! Have you read  Rainer maria rilke? I love him also  A german  poet! here is a one of his pieces translated!

Childhood

It would be good to give much thought, before
you try to find words for something so lost,
for those long childhood afternoons you knew
that vanished so completely -and why?

We're still reminded-: sometimes by a rain,
but we can no longer say what it means;
life was never again so filled with meeting,
with reunion and with passing on

as back then, when nothing happened to us
except what happens to things and creatures:
we lived their world as something human,
and became filled to the brim with figures.

And became as lonely as a sheperd
and as overburdened by vast distances,
and summoned and stirred as from far away,
and slowly, like a long new thread,
introduced into that picture-sequence
where now having to go on bewilders us.

Thats a heavy! So beautiful............I needed that today as well. Thank you so much for posting that Deb.