Mary Oliver is such a poet as speaks to our hearts, our souls, without cleverness or opaqueness. She is open, and opens our love and pain with the beautiful pictures she paints of all of the states and passions we pass through.
This, on death:
From our two friends: Psyche’s Call with Donna May and our lovely poet, Mary Oliver. How we appreciate and love them both.
Sometimes the days are so difficult. This election, these politics, this earth, and the animals that walk with us. Sometimes we just long for our children to be small and our lives, our selves—to be ignorant.
Too many people sick, too many people playing the end-games of their lives. And still, from our dear ones—Now. Just Now. Shsssssh…
Posted by Il Salotto di Rossana
Evgeiy Monahov Lady 2011
Declare peace with your breath.
Inhale men of arms and friction, exhale whole buildings and stormi red-winged blackbirds.
Inhale terrorists and exhale sleeping children and freshly mowed fields.
Inhale confusion and exhale maple trees.
Inhale how much has fallen and exhale friendships of a lifetime still intact.
Declare peace with your listening: when you hear sirens, pray out loud.
Remember what your tools are: flower seeds, dress pins, clean rivers.
Make some soup.
Make music, learn how to say thanks in three different languages.
Learn how to knit, and make a hat.
Think of chaos as blueberries dancing,
imagine the pain as the exhale of beauty or the gesture of fish.
Swim to go the other way.
Declare peace.
The world has never appeared so new and precious.
Drink a cup of tea and cheer up.
Act like the armistice has already arrived.
Don’t wait another minute.
~Mary Oliver
Scientists say because there are fewer cars and planes polluting the air -at long last Mother Earth is able to take a deep breath.
Sleeping In The Forest
I thought the earth remembered me, she
took me back so tenderly, arranging
her dark skirts, her pockets
full of lichens and seeds. I slept
as never before, a stone
on the riverbed, nothing
between me and the white fire of the stars
but my thoughts, and they floated
light as moths among the branches
of the perfect trees. All night
I heard the small kingdoms breathing
around me, the insects, and the birds
who do their work in the darkness. All night
I rose and fell, as if in water, grappling
with a luminous doom. By morning
I had vanished at least a dozen times
into something better.
– Mary Oliver
Posted by masud-moallahyidie2808ealbert-einstein-quotes
“You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting –
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.”
Mary Oliver
Writers Ink—Writing and Stuff 