Tuesday, February 26, 2013

just the ordinary days






NOTES FOR THE PROGRAM

by William Stafford

Just the ordinary days, please.
I wouldn't want them any better.

About the pace of life, it seems best to have
slow, if-I-can-stand-them revelations

And take this message about the inevitable:
I've decided it's all right if it comes.







I really do love the 'ordinary' days best. Maybe it's a failing, to just want the ordinary. To want to look for the magic in that. It's an approach, just like any other approach, though, isn't it? But there will always be those who misconstrue.

Another poem by Stafford:




THINKING ABOUT BEING CALLED SIMPLE BY A CRITIC

by William Stafford

I wanted the plums, but I waited.
The sun went down. The fire
went out. With no lights on
I waited. From the night again—
those words: how stupid I was.
And I closed my eyes to listen.
The words all sank down, deep
and rich. I felt their truth
and began to live them. They were mine
to enjoy. Who but a friend
could give so sternly what the sky
feels for everyone but few learn to
cherish? In the dark with the truth
I began the sentence of my life
and found it so simple there was no way
back into qualifying my thoughts
with irony or anything like that.
I went to the fridge and opened it—
sure enough the light was on.
I reached in and got the plums.




{And this is rather to lovely to listen to after reading the Stafford}.



I kept shooting, and paring down. Until, just the cookies, not even the plate. Which felt right.













1 comment:

  1. Thank you for sharing these poems Shawna. To simply merge with what is given, is perhaps to flourish.

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