"poems that could save your life"

[littletrubs]

This isnt a poem but i find lyrics can have a similar effect. These are by Jimmy Nail:

when the world is dark, when the lights go down
when the demons walk, when they're all around
there's a light that comes from a place on high
there's a light that comes that the angels shine
and it shines for you, and it shines for me
and it shlnes for all, and it shines for free
when the world Is dark, when the demons walk
there's a light that shines like a burning arc
and though I walk through the valley of the shadow
I will fear no evil
and though I walk through the valley of the shadow
I will fear no evil
since the dawn of time, when the world began
we've borne witness to all the acts of man
how he ruled the earth, when he learned to walk
how he learned to hurt, when he learned to talk
and he's broken laws, and he's broken dreams
and he's broken bones, and ignored the screams
through the longest day, through the darkest night
there wlll always shine, his redeeming light
and though I walk through the valley of the shadow
I will fear no evll
and though I walk through the valley of the shadow
I will fear no evll

[friarygirl]

I just wanted to post the "original" of this. Psalm 23. So if religion triggers are necessary, don't read any further, OK?
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The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever

I didn't put that because I'm religious - in fact I'm not. At all. But I love that quote. It seems to me to be talking about the spirit of survival in all or us - our our "guardian angel" if you believe in angels, or just our own desire to be happy and feel at ease.

I just love it, without any religious connotations. We all need someone to watch over us - for most of us I guess it's going to be us, ourselves - but no need to stint, this shows how we all need to love ourselves and be kind to ourselves, and then we WILL be fine. I think anyway.

Sarah

[Skyeler]

My wife says that Psalms to herself when she's having a hard time.

[friarygirl]

2 Sarah's together, then. It's seen me through some pretty bad times too.

Sarah

[magicmum]

Many of you know that the one that says it all for me is Desiderata

There's always a part of it that fits for just about every situation.

And I'm not religious either, but the Psalms are just a lovely collection of poems and stories that can help to heal souls. Spiritual, not religious.

..... therefore be at peace with god whatever you perceive him to be ......

magicmum

[green]

I like this poem at the moment...

The Panic Bird

just flew inside my chest. Some
days it lights inside my brain,
but today it's in my bonehouse,
rattling ribs like a birdcage.

If I saw it coming, I'd fend it
off with machete or baseball bat.
Or grab its scrawny hackled neck,
wring it like a wet dishrag.

But it approaches from behind.
Too late I sense it at my back --
carrion, garbage, excrement.
Once inside me it preens, roosts,

vulture on a public utility pole.
Next it flaps, it cries, it glares,
it rages, it struts, it thrusts
its clacking beak into my liver,

my guts, my heart, rips off strips.
I fill with black blood, black bile.
This may last minutes or days.
Then it lifts sickle-shaped wings,

rises, is gone, leaving a residue --
foul breath, droppings, molted midnight
feathers. And life continues.
And then I'm prey to panic again.

Robert Phillips

[susanM]

Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night
by: Dylan Thomas

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.


Have always loved this poem

[susanM]

this one I find amazing, for times when you feel like you have nothing left ok I'll stop now sorry!



Still I Rise
by Maya Angelou



You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops,
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

[pixijane]

This is a great thread. SusanM, I love Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night
I've loved it since I studied it in school 2 years ago.

[Naiia]

SusanM - I also adore "Do not go gentle into that good night" - thanks for posting it, I'd forgotten about it. It always gives me this strange sense of...empowerment, almost.

[wilson]

i like this. im a poetry fan.
but the lyrics my reply - the ataris helps me.

[Binayshee]

Wave of sorrow,
Do not drown me now:

I see the island
Still ahead somehow.

I see the island
And its sands are fair:

Wave of sorrow,
Take me there.

Langston Hughes, "Island"

wow, i love that! it just gave me chills!

-helika

[one out of none]

Everything is Going to Be All Right - Derek Mahon


How should I not be glad to contemplate
the clouds clearing beyond the dormer window
and a high tide reflected on the ceiling?
There will be dying, there will be dying,
but there is no need to go into that.
The lines flow from the hand unbidden
and the hidden source is the watchful heart;
the sun rises in spite of everything
and the far cities are beautiful and bright.
I lie here in a riot of sunlight
watching the day break and the clouds flying.
Everything is going to be all right.

[the edge of the world]

I don't know if this really counts as a poem... but I find the lyrics to "Imagine" by John Lennon very hope-inspiring...

Imagine there's no heaven
It's easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us only sky
Imagine all the people
Living for today...

Imagine there's no countries
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace...

You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one

Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world...

You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will live as one

[balletomane]

From Kahlil Gibran's The Prophet

On Joy & Sorrow

Then a woman said, "Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow."

And he answered:

Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.

And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.

And how else can it be?

The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.

Is not the cup that hold your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?

And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?

When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

Some of you say, "Joy is greater than sorrow," and others say, "Nay, sorrow is the greater."

But I say unto you, they are inseparable.

Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.

Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.

Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.

When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.

[caged bird]

I don't now where this came from - it was something that i found on a gift card at some point:

follow your dreams
wherever they lead
don't be distracted
by less worthy needs

shelter them, nourish them
help them to grow
let your heart hold them,
down deep where dreams go

Be faithful, be loyal
then all your life through
the dreams that you follow,
will keep coming true

[Roxi]

balletomane, thank you 4 ur post on joy and sorrow- it's amazing. Much appriciated
RoxI

[ultimate starshine]

Mid-term Break


I sat all morning in the college sick bay
Counting bells knelling classes to a close,
At two o'clock our neighbors drove me home.

In the porch I met my father crying--
He had always taken funerals in his stride--
And Big Jim Evans saying it was a hard blow.

The baby cooed and laughed and rocked the pram
When I came in, and I was embarrassed
By old men standing up to shake my hand

And tell me they were "sorry for my trouble,"
Whispers informed strangers I was the eldest,
Away at school, as my mother held my hand

In hers and coughed out angry tearless sighs.
At ten o'clock the ambulance arrived
With the corpse, stanched and bandaged by the nurses.

Next morning I went up into the room. Snowdrops
And candles soothed the bedside; I saw him
For the first time in six weeks. Paler now,

Wearing a poppy bruise on the left temple,
He lay in the four foot box as in a cot.
No gaudy scars, the bumper knocked him clear.

A four foot box, a foot for every year.

Seamus Heaney

I know what everyone will think... Its depressing. but this poem has made me realise jsut how precious life is, To think about this line:
A four foot box, a foot for every year.
I look at this line and think, Shit... people go through worse than me, Peopl lose children, children die and I am sitting here in my misery.
Im not for one minute trying to say that SI is bad.. i mean. I do SI obvously and I hate the fact i do, i jsut think that sometimes, I need to look at pieces of writing like this and realise acutally, life aint too bad all i have to do s look at the end of the rainbow and pray for those who arnt so lucky.

[VowsOfSadness]

A Piece from Walt Whitman Song Of Myself

The spotted hawk swoops by and accuses me, he complains
of my gab and my loitering.

I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable,
I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.

The last scud of day holds back for me,
It flings my likeness after the rest and true as any on the shadow'd wilds,
It coaxes me to the vapor and the dusk.

I depart as air, I shake my white locks at the runaway sun,
I effuse my flesh in eddies, and drift it in lacy jags.

I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love,
If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles.

You will hardly know who I am or what I mean,
But I shall be good health to you nevertheless,
And filter and fibre your blood.

Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged,
Missing me one place search another,
I stop somewhere waiting for you.

And we had to memorize this one in school
Robert Frost's Stopping by the woods On a snowy evening

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 is 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.

Because it's supposed to be about not dying and going on with life.

[VowsOfSadness]

ps belletomane I have that part of Kahlil Gibran painted on my wall

The Prophet practically changed my life!