Hello.

The social injustice in our country (and actually in the whole world) is making my heart heavy with sorrow. I feel helpless. I vote in every election and I hope you do too. I have also donated to Black Lives Matter and to the Equal Justice Initiative. I will continue to make donations to them and to other causes that work on ending white supremacy in the United States.

As you can image, I am not in the mood to blog about books and such. It seems trivial compared to what is happening right now. I’m going to continue working on my own book while the blog stays quiet for just a little while longer. Thank you for bearing with me.

I leave you with this poem by German pastor, Martin Niemöller, who survived the Nazis. Unfortunately, this poem is as timely as ever.

First they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out—
     Because I was not a socialist.

Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out—
     Because I was not a trade unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—
     Because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.

xoxo, Jane

It sifts from Leaden Sieves By Emily Dickinson

abstract art background blue sky

December’s poem is by Emily Dickinson. Emily Dickinson was so clever. She wrote an entire poem about snow without ever mentioning the word “snow.” Grab your cup of tea and enjoy reading this winter poem. (PS. (October and November poems here.)

It sifts from Leaden Sieves
By Emily Dickinson

It sifts from Leaden Sieves –
It powders all the Wood.
It fills with Alabaster Wool
The Wrinkles of the Road –
It makes an even Face
Of Mountain, and of Plain –
Unbroken Forehead from the East
Unto the East again –
It reaches to the Fence –
It wraps it Rail by Rail
Till it is lost in Fleeces –
It deals Celestial Vail
To Stump, and Stack – and Stem –
A Summer’s empty Room –
Acres of Joints, where Harvests were,
Recordless, but for them –
It Ruffles Wrists of Posts
As Ankles of a Queen –
Then stills it’s Artisans – like Ghosts –
Denying they have been –

 

Image via Pexels.com

November by Thomas Hood

yellow leaf

Since I posted a poem last month, it’s only fair we read another poem for November. I think this one is witty and sarcastic, but in a nice way. Let me know your thoughts.

November by Thomas Hood

No sun — no moon!
No morn
— no noon
No dawn
— no dusk — no proper time of day.

No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease,
No comfortable feel in any member
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds!

November!

Image via Pexels.com

October by Robert Frost

abstract autumn autumn colours beautiful

I’m not normally a fan of poems. I’m more interested in novels and novellas and the occasional short story. But every once in a while, I’m in the mood to read a poem. I think it’s good for us to do something out of the ordinary.

person carrying a pumpkin

I decided to seek out a poem related to autumn. I think this poem by Robert Frost fits the bill. Do you think so too?

October by Robert Frost

O hushed October morning mild,
Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;
Tomorrow’s wind, if it be wild,
Should waste them all.
The crows above the forest call;
Tomorrow they may form and go.
O hushed October morning mild,
Begin the hours of this day slow.
Make the day seem to us less brief.
Hearts not averse to being beguiled,
Beguile us in the way you know.
Release one leaf at break of day;
At noon release another leaf;
One from our trees, one far away.
Retard the sun with gentle mist;
Enchant the land with amethyst.
Slow, slow!
For the grapes’ sake, if they were all,
Whose leaves already are burnt with frost,
Whose clustered fruit must else be lost—
For the grapes’ sake along the wall.

Images via Pexels.com

To My Dear and Loving Husband by Anne Bradstreet

 

midsection of woman making heart shape with hands
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

I thought today would be a nice day for a poem. This poem, by Anne Bradstreet, is short and sweet. Plus, it makes me think of my husband.

Feel free to share your favorite poem in the comments.

Enjoy! xoxo, Jane

If ever two were one, then surely we. If ever man were loved by wife, then thee. If ever wife was happy in a man, Compare with me, ye women, if you can. I prize thy love more than whole mines of gold, Or all the rich.png

If ever two were one, then surely we.
If ever man were loved by wife, then thee.
If ever wife was happy in a man,
Compare with me, ye women, if you can.
I prize thy love more than whole mines of gold,
Or all the riches that the East doth hold.
My love is such that rivers cannot quench,
Nor ought but love from thee give recompense.
Thy love is such I can no way repay;
The heavens reward thee manifold, I pray.
Then while we live, in love let’s so persever,
That when we live no more, we may live ever.