Picking Blueberries (Monday Poem)

 by Mary Oliver

Once, in summer,

in the blueberries,

I fell asleep, and woke

when a deer stumbled against me.

I guess

she was so busy with her own happiness

she had grown careless

and was just wandering along

listening

to the wind as she leaned down

to lip up the sweetness.

So, there we were

with nothing between us

but a few leaves, and the wind's

glossy voice

shouting instructions.

The deer

backed away finally

and flung up her white tail

and went floating off toward the trees--

but the moment before she did that

was so wide and deep

it has lasted to this day;

I have only to think of her--

the flower of her amazement

and the stalled breath of her curiosity,

and even the damp touch of her solicitude

before she took flight--

to be absent again from this world

and alive, again, in another,

for thirty years

sleepy and amazed,

rising out of the rough weeds,

listening and looking,.

Beautiful girl,

where are you?

from Devotions: The Selected Poems of Mary Oliver, by Mary Oliver

Penguin Random House, 2017

People (Monday Poem)

 by Charlotte Zolotow

Some people talk and talk

and never say a thing.

Some people look at you

and birds begin to sing.

Some people laugh and laugh

and yet you want to cry.

Some people touch your hand

and music fills the sky.

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

compiled by Liz Attenborough, Scholastic, 2001

The Snakes (Monday Poem)

 by Mary Oliver

I once saw two snakes,

northern racers,

hurrying through the woods,

their bodies

like two black whips

lifting and dashing forward;

in perfect concert

they held their heads high

and swam forward

on their sleek bellies;

under the trees,

through vines, branches,

over stones,

through fields of flowers,

they traveled

like a matched team

like a dance

like a love affair.

from Devotions: The Selected Poems of Mary Oliver, by Mary Oliver

Penguin Random House, 2017

Thirst (Monday Poem)

by Mary Oliver

 

 

Another morning and I wake with thirst

for the goodness I do not have. I walk

out to the pond and all the way God has

given us such beautiful lessons. Oh Lord,

I was never a quick scholar but sulked

and hunched over my books past the

hour and the bell; grant me, in your

mercy, a little more time. Love for the

earth and love for you are having such a

long conversation in my heart. Who

knows, what will finally happen or

where I will be sent, yet already I have

given a great many things away, expect-

ing to be told to pack nothing, except the

prayers which, with this thirst, I am

slowly learning.

 

 

from Thirst by Mary Oliver

Beacon Press, 2006 

The Fist (Monday Poem)

 by Mary Oliver

There are days

when the sun goes down

like a fist

though of course

if you see anything

in the heavens

in this way

you had better get

your eyes checked

or, better still,

your diminished spirit.

The heavens

 

have no fist,

or wouldn't they have been

shaking it

for a thousand years now,

 

and even

longer than that,

at the dull, brutish

ways of mankind--

 

heaven's own

creation?

Instead: such patience!

Such willingness

 

to let us continue!

To hear, 

little by little,

the voices--

 

only, so far, in

pockets of the world--

suggesting

the possibilities

 

of peace?

Keep looking.

Behold how the fist opens

with invitation.

 

from Thirst by Mary Oliver

Beacon Press, 2006

Praying (Monday Poem)

 by Mary Oliver

It doesn't have to be

the blue iris, it could be

weeds in a vacant lot, or a few

small stones; just

pay attention, then patch

a few words together and don't try

to make them elaborate, this isn't

a contest but a doorway

into thanks, and a silence in which

another voice may speak.

from Thirst by Mary Oliver

Beacon Press, 2006

Equality (Monday Poem)

by Maya Angelou

You declare you see my dimly

through a glass which will not shine,

though I stand before you boldly,

trim in rank and marking time.

 

You do own to hear me faintly

as a whisper out of range,

while my drums beat out the message

and the rhythms never change.

 

Equality, and I will be free.

Equality, and I will be free.

 

You announce my ways are wanton,

that I fly from man to man,

but if I'm just a shadow to you,

could you ever understand?

 

We have lived a painful history,

we know the shameful past,

but I keep on marching forward,

and you keep on coming last.

 

Equality, and I will be free.

Equality, and I will be free.

 

Take the blinders from your vision,

take the padding from your ears,

and confess you've heard me crying,

and admit you've seen my tears.

 

Hear the tempo so compelling,

hear the blood throb in my veins.

Yes, my drums are beating nightly,

and the rhythms never change.

 

Equality, and I will be free.

Equality, and I will be free.

 

 

from The Complete Collected Poems of Maya Angelou, by Maya Angelou

Random House, 1994