Soul-and-Body Scars

I am now the proud owner of a $2.00 thrift store copy of The Poetry of Robert Frost, containing all eleven of his books--complete. I admit, with some shame, I am hardly familiar with Frost, beyond his popularly anthologized "Mending Wall" and "The Road Not Taken." I do have S.E. Hinton's The Outsiders to thank for introducing me to Frost's "Nothing Gold Can Stay." But alas, as one can see, my familiarity with Frost is rather sparse. Hence, this gorgeous book, arriving to educate me. 

I offer tonight only a small sample of the joys Frost has to offer, as my intellectual capacity can't seem to handle much more than tidbits lately.

A Question

Robert Frost

A voice said, Look me in the stars

And tell me truly, men of earth,

If all the soul-and-body scars

Were not too much to pay for birth.

Sign'd by God

Another Whitman tidbit, from section 48 of  "Song of Myself."

Why should I wish to see God better than this day?
I see something of God each hour of the twenty-four, and each moment then;
In the faces of men and women I see God, and in my own face in the glass;
I find letters from God dropt in the street—and every one is sign’d by God’s name,
And I leave them where they are, for I know that wheresoe’er I go,
Others will punctually come forever and ever.

Photo by: Valerie Owens

Just Normal Joy

This morning, via text, a friend of mine exclaimed how happy she was. When I asked if there was any particular reason for this happiness, she responded, "No, just normal joy." Normal joy. I like that thought, a lot. It reminds me of this poem:

The Orange

Wendy Cope

At lunchtime I bought a huge orange--
The size of it made us all laugh.
I peeled it and shared it with Robert and Dave--
They got quarters and I had a half.

And that orange, it made me so happy,
As ordinary things often do
Just lately. The shopping. A walk in the park.
This is peace and contentment. It's new.

The rest of the day was quite easy.
I did all the jobs on my list
And enjoyed them and had some time left over.
I love you. I'm glad I exist.

Like Wendy Cope? I thought think the Poetry Archive's page on Wendy Cope is a great introduction to the poet. Check it out here, and be sure to click the link to "Strugnell's Haiku," as it is a humorous joy. Thank goodness for happy poets. And thank goodness for Garrison Keillor's anthology, Good Poems, for introducing me to this poem.

Subtle Electric Fire

A Sunday tidbit of Whitman...

O You Whom I Often and Silently Come

Walt Whitman

O YOU whom I often and silently come where you are, that I may be with you;
As I walk by your side, or sit near, or remain in the same room with you,
Little you know the subtle electric fire that for your sake is playing within me.