Holds Upon Happiness

I almost forgot it was Thursday and time for another poem. I’ve been sick all week and completely lost track of time. I have to go back to work tomorrow which is unfortunate. I have enjoyed the last few days of being just sick enough to be lazy with a clear conscience but not so sick I can’t enjoy anything. Maybe I was born for a life of leisure. Just think of all the time I would have for my neglected hobbies. Here is a charming poem by Robert Frost. I hope it brightens your day. THE LAST WORD OF A BLUEBIRDAs told to a childAs I went out a…

Nikita Gill is an Irish-Indian poet, playwright, and illustrator. She was born in Belfast, raised in India, and immigrated to England in her twenties. She has published eight volumes of poetry but many readers first encountered her writing on Tumblr and Instagram. Her writing “explores themes of mythology, folklore, and femininity, and is known for its vulnerability and hope.” Do not teach her shame.Instead teach her that the sunon her skin is all she must carry.Do not name her burden.Instead tell her she is moonlight,easy to bear, more than enough.Do not let her hate her own body.Teach her how her sinews and bonesprovide her with safe harbour.And when the grief…

Jane Kenyon was born in 1947 in Michigan. After her marriage, she moved to New Hampshire where she spent the rest of her short life. She was New Hampshire’s poet laureate at the time of her death. Kenyon published four volumes of poetry and also worked as a translator. Her poetry is described as simple, spare, and unsentimental. She lay on her back in the timothyand gazed past the dodderingauburn heads of sumac.A cloud—huge, calm,and dignified—covered the sunbut did not, could not, put it out.The light surged back again.Nothing could rouse her thenfrom that joy so violentit was hard to distinguish from pain.In the Grove: The Poet at TenJane Kenyon