Two Poets Who Love the Earth

[image from google:  aarp.org]

The interesting prompt at dVerse is to take a poem you like from a published poet,
and to write your own poem, imitating its idea, format or meter. I chose Wild Geese by Mary Oliver, because I am fascinated by the meter and the feeling of the lines, which always puts me in some sort of a trance.

Here is Wild Geese by Mary Oliver

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 your despair,
and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile, the world goes on.
Meanwhile, the sun and the clear pebbles of 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.

Wow. So good, hey? My poem follows:

ALL YOU NEED TO BE

You do not have to be Superwoman

You do not have to leap tall buildings
with a single bound


You only have to get through
this one intricately challenging
and slightly preposterous day
with as much grace and humour as possible


Tell me how hard it is,
sometimes,
to just keep going
and I will hear you


Meanwhile the myriad galaxies spin
in their mystical and so mysterious orbits
across a midnight sky bejeweled with diamonds.


Meanwhile the generous sun comes up each morning
offering a brand new day for trying
Meanwhile all beings in the cosmos
arise and go about their single day of solitary living


Whoever, you are, whatever your state of being,
the world awaits your constant co-creation -
issues you a blank canvas that cries out for
all the vibrant colors of your day,
you the living paintbrush, to draw forth
all your fire and fortitude and passion
and your deep, sweet peacefulness
at resting in the life that is oh so sweetly
and familiarly
yours