Poems that I love

by W.S. Merwin Every year without knowing it I have passed the day When the last fires will wave to me And the silence will set out Tireless traveler Like the beam of a lightless star Then I will no longer Find myself in life as in a strange garment Surprised at the earth And the love of one woman And the shamelessness of men As today writing after three days of rain Hearing the wren sing and the falling cease And bowing not knowing to what  

by Bob O’Hearn As long as we imagine there is something to defend, we will find enemies. The war is always with ourselves in that respect. Mind divides itself into self and other, and so the wild rumpus continues. "Except for deserted wilderness what is there to protect?" ~Joshu The war is over -- nobody survived. No time to mourn the dead, sunrise over the settling dust was too captivating for any lament. Crimson trails of mind's lingering exhaust scar-streaked dawn's early sky, as if the dream of night itself exploded, as if from now on there would be flooding daylight only, though even that wild wonder will fall in time from the eyes, till what remains is not of time, not of mind, yet even in its flash of vanishing -- true balm for wounded hearts. We wake and rise and fall breathless into this luminosity, this sky meadow vibrant with vernal signs, hues, and vivid budding wonders -- the ordinary evidence of everything changing, ...