"Scientists find universe awash in tiny diamonds"* (Monday Poem)

by Pat Mayne Ellis

 

 

But haven't we always known?

The shimmer of trees, the shaking of flames

every cloud lined with something

clean water sings

right to the belly

scouring us with its purity

it too is awash with diamonds

 

"so small that trillions could rest

on the head of a pin"

 

Is it not unwise then to say

that the air is hung close with diamonds

that we breathe diamond

our lungs hoarding, exchanging

our blood sowing them rich and thick

along every course it takes

Does this explain

why some of us are so hard

why some of us shine

why we are all precious

 

that we are awash in creation

spumed with diamonds

shot through with beauty

that survived the death of stars

 

 

*quotations found in a newspaper clipping on the subject

 

 

from Cries of the Spirit: A Celebration of Women's Spirituality

edited by Marilyn Sewell

Beacon 1991 

Buckingham Palace (Monday Poem)

 by A. A. Milne

 

 

They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace--

Christopher Robin went down with Alice.

Alice is marrying one of the guard.

"A soldier's life is terrible hard,"

                                                    Says Alice.

They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace--

Christopher Robin went down with Alice.

We saw a guard in a sentry box.

"One of the sergeants looks after their socks." 

                                                    Says Alice.

They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace--

Christopher Robin went down with Alice.

We looked for the King, but he never came.

"Well, God take care of him, all the same,"

                                                     Says Alice.                                            

 

They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace--

Christopher Robin went down with Alice.

They've great big parties inside the grounds.

"I wouldn't be King for a hundred pounds,"

                                                     Says Alice.

 

They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace--

Christopher Robin went down with Alice.

A face looked out, but it wasn't the King's.

"He's much too busy a-signing things,"

                                                     Says Alice.

 

They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace--

Christopher Robin went down with Alice.

"Do you think the King knows all about me?"

"Sure to, dear, but it's time for tea,"

                                                     Says Alice.

 

 

from When We Were Very Young,

by A. A. Milne

Dell 1972 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                           

Silver (Monday Poem)

 by Walter de la Mare

Slowly, silently, now the moon

Walks the night in her silver shoon;

This way, and that, she peers, and sees

Silver fruit upon silver trees;

One by one the casements catch

Her beams beneath the silvery thatch;

Couched in his kennel, like a log,

With paws of silver sleeps the dog;

From their shadowy cote the white breasts peep

Of doves in a silver-feathered sleep;

A harvest mouse goes scampering by,

With silver claws, and silver eye;

And moveless fish in the water gleam,

By silver reeds in a silver stream.

 

 

from Poetry by Heart: A Child's Book of Poems to Remember

compiled by Liz Attenborough

Scholastic 2001

 

Everyone Sang (Monday Poem)

by Siegfried Sassoon

 

 

Everyone suddenly burst out singing;

And I was filled with such delight

As prisoned birds must find in freedom,

Winging wildly across the white

Orchards and dark green fields; on -- on --and out of sight.

 

Everyone's voice was suddenly lifted;

And beauty came like the setting sun:

My heart was shaken with tears; and horror

Drifted away . . . O, but Everyone

Was a bird; and the song was wordless; the singing will never be done.

 

 

from Poetry by Heart: A Child's Book of Poems to Remember

compiled by Liz Attenborough

Scholastic 2001

 

The Fountain (Monday Poem)

 by Denise Levertov

Don't say, don't say there is no water

to solace the dryness at our hearts

I have seen

the fountain springing out of the rock wall

and you drinking there. And I too

before your eyes

found footholds and climbed

to drink the cool water.

The woman of that place, shading her eyes,

frowned as she watched--but not because

she grudged the water,

only because she was waiting

to see we drank our fill and were

refreshed.

 

Don't say, don't say there is no water.

That fountain is there among its scalloped

green and gray stones,

 

it is still there and always there

with its quiet song and  strange power

to spring in us,

up and out through rock.

 

 

from Cries of the Spirit: A Celebration of Women's Spirituality

edited by Marilyn Sewell

Beacon 1991

Fire (Monday Poem)

 by Joy Harjo

a woman can't survive

by her own breath

                  alone

she must know

the voices of mountains

she must recognize

the foreverness of blue sky

she must flow

with the elusive

bodies

of night winds

who will take her

into herself

 

look at me

i am not a separate woman

i am the continuance

of blue sky

i am the throat

of the mountains

a night wind

who burns

with every breath

she takes

 

 

 

from How We Became Human: New and Selected Poems 1975-2001

by Joy Harjo

W. W. Norton and Company 2002

Remember (Monday Poem)

 by Joy Harjo

Remember the sky that you were born under,

know each of the star's stories.

Remember the moon, know who she is. I met her

in a bar once in Iowa City.

Remember the sun's birth at dawn, that is the

strongest point of time. Remember sundown

and the giving away to night.

Remember your birth, how your mother struggled

to give you form and breath. You are evidence of

her life, and her mother's, and hers.

Remember your father. He is your life also.

Remember the earth whose skin you are:

red earth, black earth, yellow earth, white earth

brown earth, we are earth.

Remember the plants, trees, animal life who all have their

tribes, their families, their histories, too. Talk to them,

listen to them. They are alive poems.

Remember the wind. Remember her voice. She knows the

origin of this universe. I heard her singing Kiowa war

dance songs at the corner of Fourth and Central once.

Remember that you are all people and that all people

are you.

Remember that you are this universe and that this

universe is you.

Remember that all is in motion, is growing, is you.

Remember that language comes from this.

Remember the dance that language is, that life is.

Remember.

 

 

from Cries of the Spirit: A Celebration of Women's Spirituality

edited by Marilyn Sewell

Beacon 1991