{"id":140,"date":"2019-04-11T12:07:00","date_gmt":"2019-04-11T12:07:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/2019\/04\/11\/a-poem-for-thursday-27\/"},"modified":"2020-10-26T22:46:56","modified_gmt":"2020-10-26T22:46:56","slug":"a-poem-for-thursday-27","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/2019\/04\/11\/a-poem-for-thursday-27\/","title":{"rendered":"A Poem for a Thursday #27"},"content":{"rendered":"\n\n\n\n
<\/a><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n
Photo by\u00a0Guillaume Flandre<\/a>\u00a0on\u00a0<\/span>Unsplash<\/a><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n

Carl Sandburg was a poet, biographer, writer, and editor. He lived from 1878-1967. He won the Pulitzer Prize three times; twice for his poetry and once for a six-volume biography of Abraham Lincoln. Sandburg described poetry as “a pack-sack of invisible keepsakes. Poetry is a sky dark with a wild-duck migration. Poetry is the opening and closing of a door, leaving those who look through to guess about what is seen during a moment.” He also said, “I’ll probably die propped up in bed trying to write a poem about America.”<\/p>\n

love is a deep and a dark and a lonely<\/i>
\nand you take it deep take it dark<\/i>
\nand take it with a lonely winding<\/i>
\nand when the winding gets too lonely<\/i>
\nthen may come the windflowers<\/i>
\nand the breath of wind over many flowers<\/i>
\nwinding its way out of many lonely flowers<\/i>
\nwaiting in rainleaf whispers<\/i>
\nwaiting in dry stalks of noon<\/i>
\nwanting in a music of windbreaths<\/i>
\nso you can take love as it comes keening<\/i>
\nas it comes with a voice and a face<\/i>
\nand you make a talk of it<\/i>
\ntalking to yourself a talk worth keeping<\/i>
\nand you put it away for a keen keeping<\/i>
\nand you find it to be a hoarding<\/i>
\nand you give it away and yet it stays hoarded<\/i>
\n
\n<\/i>
\nlike a book read over and over again<\/i>
\nlike one book being a long row of books<\/i>
\nlike leaves of windflowers bending low<\/i>
\nand bending to be never broken<\/i>
\n
\n<\/i>
\nLove is a Deep and a Dark and a Lonely<\/i>
\nCarl Sandburg<\/p>\n

Visit Typings<\/a> for another poem.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Photo by\u00a0Guillaume Flandre\u00a0on\u00a0Unsplash Carl Sandburg was a poet, biographer, writer, and editor. He lived from 1878-1967. He won the Pulitzer Prize three times; twice for his poetry and once for a six-volume biography of Abraham Lincoln. Sandburg described poetry as “a pack-sack of invisible keepsakes. Poetry is a sky dark with a wild-duck migration. Poetry is the opening and closing of a door, leaving those who look through to guess about what is seen during a moment.” He also said, “I’ll probably die propped up in bed trying to write a poem about America.” love is a deep and a dark and a lonely and you take it deep take it dark and take it with a lonely winding and when the winding gets too lonely then may come the windflowers and the breath of wind over many flowers winding its way out of many lonely flowers waiting in rainleaf whispers waiting in dry stalks of noon wanting in a music of windbreaths so you can take love as it comes keening as it comes with a voice and a face and you make a talk of it talking to yourself a talk worth keeping and you put it away for a keen keeping and you find it to be a hoarding and you give it away and yet it stays hoarded like a book read over and over again like one book being a long row of books like leaves of windflowers bending low and bending to be never broken Love is a Deep and a Dark and a Lonely Carl Sandburg Visit Typings for another poem.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":1579,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_uf_show_specific_survey":0,"_uf_disable_surveys":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[2],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-140","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-poem-for-a-thursday"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/140","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=140"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/140\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2602,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/140\/revisions\/2602"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/1579"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=140"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=140"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=140"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}