The Diary Of A Nobody

E32: When/If Tomorrow Starts Without Me - David M. Romano

David M. Romano - When/If Tomorrow Starts Without Me
 
Theme:
David Romano's poignant poem, "When Tomorrow Starts Without Me," encapsulates the theme of coping with loss and finding solace in the belief of an afterlife. Through its heartfelt verses, the poem urges us to cherish life's fleeting moments and to appreciate the loved ones who enrich our journey. It reminds us to live with integrity and to embrace each day with love and gratitude, for tomorrow is never promised. As we navigate the complexities of grief, the poem offers reassurance that our departed loved ones remain ever-present in our hearts, guiding us with their enduring love and memories.
 
Poem:
When tomorrow starts without meAnd I’m not here to seeIf the sun should rise and find your eyesAll filled with tears for meI wish you wouldn’t cryThe way you did todayWhile thinking of the many thingsWe did not get to sayI know how much you love meAs much as I love youEach time that you think of meI know you will miss me tooWhen tomorrow starts with out mePlease try to understandThat an angel came and called my nameAnd took me by the handThe angel said my place was readyIn heaven far aboveAnd that I would have to leave behindAll those I dearly loveBut when I walked through Heaven’s GatesI felt so much at homeWhen God looked down and smiled at meFrom his golden throneHe said this is eternityAnd all I promised youToday for life on earth is doneBut here it starts a newI promise no tomorrowFor today will always lastAnd since each day’s the exact same wayThere is no longing for the pastSo when tomorrow starts without meDo not think we’re apartFor every time you think of meRemember I’m right here in your heart
 
 
Credits: David M. Romano - Date: unknown
*There's limited information about the poem itself in terms of publishing/writing date as well as the author. The interpretation of the theme in the description is solely an interpretation I came up with and should be taken only as such. 

E31: The Flame - Dragos Radu

A heartfelt Sunday morning poem emerged from the depths of my being, inspired by the lessons I've gleaned and the challenges I've faced. Its purpose is to rekindle the flickering flame within, to celebrate the boundless love and genuine essence of life's grace. I offer this intimate poem with the hope that it resonates with your spirit, illuminating your path and filling your heart with inspiration and profound grace.
In the tapestry of existence, it is not solely about the interplay between good and evil, for both hold significance within the grand tapestry of life. It is in uncovering the truth hidden within their depths that the true essence of our journey unfolds. Embracing the profound meaning embedded within every experience, we traverse the path of discovery, seeking the profound wisdom that lies within the duality of existence. May this realization accompany you on your journey, infusing each step with purpose and guiding you towards the profound truth that life graciously bestows upon us.

E30: Because I Cannot Sleep - Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi

Jalal al-Din Muhammad Rumi - Because I Cannot Sleep
 
Written: cca. 1207-1273
Poem: 
Because I cannot sleepI make music at night.I am troubled by the onewhose face has the color of spring flowers.I have neither sleep nor patience,neither a good reputation nor disgrace.A thousand robes of wisdom are gone.All my good manners have moved a thousand miles away.The heart and the mind are left angry with each other.The stars and the moon are envious of each other.Because of this alienation the physical universeis getting tighter and tighter.The moon says, "How long will I remainsuspended without a sun?"Without Love's jewel inside of me,let the bazaar of my existence be destroyed stone by stone.O Love, You who have been called by a thousand names,You who know how to pour the wineinto the chalice of the body,You who give culture to a thousand cultures,You who are faceless but have a thousand faces,O Love, You who shape the facesof Turks, Europeans, and Zanzibaris,give me a glass from Your bottle,or a handful of being from Your Branch.Remove the cork once more.Then we'll see a thousand chiefs prostrate themselves,and a circle of ecstatic troubadours will play.Then the addict will be freed of craving.and will be resurrected,and stand in awe till Judgement Day.
 
Credits: Jalal al-Din Rumi, 1207-1273

E29: Opportunity - Berton Braley

Berton Braley - Opportunity
 
Written: circa 1917
Theme:
No matter where you live, or where you have been born whether that is into a wealthy family or to dirt poor parents, opportunities are available. The sad truth is that those who believe what their family roots did or did not give them have little to nothing to do with what lies ahead. Many of you have heard about the "cycle of poverty" but that cycle can be broken. How? The real opportunity lies within. That's right. The genuine possibility is for you to see; for you to plan to achieve, and for you to grasp hold of so strong that nothing will ever dissuade you from succeeding. But, bear in mind that just because you can envision a dream coming true does not mean that from now on everything will be a bed of roses. Why? Because within that bed of roses lie thorny branches.So, what does this all mean? AS Berton Braley says, "Don't worry and fret, faint hearted, the chances have just begun," for it is recognizing that chances are abundant that keeps the spark of good fortune alive. For each chance, there is another new avenue to pursue or another path around the obstacle in the way. Defeat, or failure, is only an opportunity to reload from past mistakes taking forward those parts that showed promise or sprouted new ways towards accomplishment.Thus, this is a poem of encouragement for anyone who has doubts about the opportunity that each of us has. Berton Braley motivates us in this poem by delineating that each and every one of us has the opportunity to do the best and to take that chance because we never know what we can accomplish. Let his words motivate you to take action towards the dreams and goals that you may have! (Stresslesscountry.com, 2023)
 
Poem:
With doubt and dismay you are smittenYou think there's no chance for you, son?Why, the best books haven't been writtenThe best race hasn't been run,The best score hasn't been made yet,The best song hasn't been sung,The best tune hasn't been played yet,Cheer up, for the world is young!No chance? Why the world is just eagerFor things that you ought to createIts store of true wealth is still meagreIts needs are incessant and great,It yearns for more power and beautyMore laughter and love and romance,More loyalty, labor and duty,No chance- why there's nothing but chance!For the best verse hasn't been rhymed yet,The best house hasn't been planned,The highest peak hasn't been climbed yet,The mightiest rivers aren't spanned,Don't worry and fret, faint hearted,The chances have just begun,For the Best jobs haven't been started,The Best work hasn't been done.
 
Credits: Berton Braley, 1917 / Stresslesscountry.com, 2023

E28: Thanks - W.S. Merwin

W.S. Merwin - Thanks
 
Published: 2005 in Migration: New and Selected Poems
Theme & Story:
Reads as an expression of gratitude for the bounty of his life. Merwin voices his thanks in an effusive manner that stays consistent whether bowing from bridges, addressing the water or remembering wars. It begins with the simple word “Listen” and goes on to describe a variety of beautiful moments:
with the night falling we are saying thank youwe are stopping on the bridges to bow from the railingswe are running out of the glass roomswith our mouths full of food to look at the skyand say thank you
While the second stanza takes a more somber tone, Merwin doesn’t fail to stop and give thanks amid the darker aspects of life, as well:
back from a series of hospitals back from a muggingafter funerals we are saying thank youafter the news of the deadwhether or not we knew them we are saying thank you
Credits: Rachel Jones, 2021  / W.S.Merwin, 2005
 
Poem:
Listen
with the night falling we are saying thank you
we are stopping on the bridges to bow from the railings
we are running out of the glass rooms
with our mouths full of food to look at the sky
and say thank you
we are standing by the water thanking it
standing by the windows looking out
in our directions
 
back from a series of hospitals back from a mugging
after funerals we are saying thank you
after the news of the dead
whether or not we knew them we are saying thank you
 
over telephones we are saying thank you
in doorways and in the backs of cars and in elevators
remembering wars and the police at the door
and the beatings on stairs we are saying thank you
in the banks we are saying thank you
in the faces of the officials and the rich
and of all who will never change
we go on saying thank you thank you
 
with the animals dying around us
taking our feelings we are saying thank you
with the forests falling faster than the minutes
of our lives we are saying thank you
with the words going out like cells of a brain
with the cities growing over us
we are saying thank you faster and faster
with nobody listening we are saying thank you
thank you we are saying and waving
dark though it is
(PoetryFoundation, 2023)
 
Credits: Rachel Jones, 2021  / W.S.Merwin, 2005 / PoetryFoundation, 2023

E27: Do Not Close Your Eyes - Dragos Radu

Dragos Radu - Do Not Close Your Eyes
 
Written: 27th December 2022, Bucharest
Theme & Story:
This poem was inspired by a sentiment of longing and emptiness for one person in my life whom I got to know for only the first 6 years of my life, my grandfather. Since I was a child, I have been looking up to him; he was a pilot, so, at that time, I desired to become one too. Thanks to him, I know how to play chess and ride a bike. When I was 5 years old, and he was teaching me chess, I used to steal some of his pieces from the board; he was never happy about that, as aside from learning chess, he wanted me to be a fair and honest person. No actual winning comes with shortcuts. It's all a process. I realised all these things through the years, yet most at the previous year's end when I visited his resting place. Why then? Well, I was different. I sat down there and talked. Went there like a child, the 5-year-old that once made his life difficult where he made my life unforgettable. It was one of the first people in my life, aside from my mother and grandmother, that had an impact on me, left a trace, and truly loved me. I have never forgotten him, so I wrote this poem in his memory and in the memory of all of you listening who had or have such people in your lives who play(ed) an irreplaceable role. 
Enjoy, and thank you for being here.
Dragos
 
Poem: 
Do not close your eyes while the sky is still blue,
As then, the sound of the birds is sweetest. 
Do not close your eyes when there is no hope,
As then, something new is born.
Do not close your eyes when you’re overwhelmed by loneliness,
As then, someone who’s once loved you is there with you.
Do not close your eyes when the sun is setting,
As then, stars will come up to show your way.
Do not close your eyes when your heart is broken,
As then, light will seep inside you. 
Do not close your eyes while we are together,
As we do not know if we will ever meet again. 
 
Credits: Dragos Radu, 2022 / The Diary Of A Nobody, 2022

E26: A Winter Bluejay - Sara Teasdale

Sara Teasdale - A Winter Bluejay
 
Written/Published: 1915 in Rivers to the Sea
Theme:
The poem begins by placing the couple in a snow-covered landscape, walking through the “whisper[ing]” snow, enjoying a quiet moment. Their shadows are “danc[ing]” behind them, creating a beautiful pattern of light. It is clear that this moment is not one that comes often. 
They continue on their walk and come upon skaters on a frozen lake who gracefully, without fault, weave around one another. Their grace and effortless beauty mimic the day and improve upon it still. Finally, the speaker asks if they have reached the “highest point” of their happiness and she decides that they have not as her companion points out a bluejay. The jay is proud of it’s own form and fearless in its assertions of life. The bird is like their love is that day, without worry for the future and enjoying the perfect moment the day has brought. 
The poem concludes with an optimistic statement about happiness. That when one believes they have reached the pinnacle of their life, in which nothing could increase their joy, there may be more around the corner waiting for them. Read more @ PoemAnalysis.com (PoemAnalysis.com, 2022)
 
Poem:
Crisply the bright snow whispered,Crunching beneath our feet;Behind us as we walked along the parkway,Our shadows danced,Fantastic shapes in vivid blue.Across the lake the skatersFlew to and fro,With sharp turns weavingA frail invisible net.In ecstasy the earthDrank the silver sunlight;In ecstasy the skatersDrank the wine of speed;In ecstasy we laughedDrinking the wine of love.Had not the music of our joySounded its highest note?But no,For suddenly, with lifted eyes you said,“Oh look!”There, on the black bough of a snow flecked maple,Fearless and gay as our love,A bluejay cocked his crest!Oh who can tell the range of joyOr set the bounds of beauty?
 
Credits: Sara Teasdale 1915 / PoemAnalysis.com 2022

E25: The Messiah - Anonymous St Swithun’s Parishioner

Anonymous St Swithun's Parishioner - The Messiah
 
Source: It was published in a parish newsletter of St Swithun's church. 
Story:
Most of us are familiar with the words and music of the great Oratorio but Bill Jones of Golcar, a little village in the West Riding of Yorkshire, had never been to a performance and he tried to persuade a friend to go with him to the Huddersfield Town Hall to hear the famous Choral Society, but his friend refused. “Nay” he said “that sort ‘o music’s nowt in my line.  I like a good comic song or a lively jig, but I reckon nowt to this sacred stuff as they call it.  It’s beyond me. An’ another thing – there’1l be none of our sort there. It’1l be mostly religious folk and swells done up in boiled shirts and wimmen wi’ nowt much on.  Nay, you go by theesen and then you can tell me all about it sometime”.
So Bill went by himself.
The next time the old pals met, the fo1lowing conversation took place.  “Well cum on, how did you get on at Messiah? 
“Ee well” said Bill – “It were fair champion. I would’na missed it for al’t tea in China.  When I got there, Town Hall were crowded, it was chock full and I had a job to get a seat, and no wonder, it were all them singers – they took up half the gallery.  There were a chap larkin’ about on the organ.  He weren’t playing anythin’ in particular, just runnin’ his ‘ands up and down as if he was practising.  Well after a while a lot of chaps came in carrying fiddles.  Then…….they brought in the Messiah!
Wel1 – that’s what I took it to be.  It were’t biggest instrument on the platform and it were covered in a big green bag.  Any road, they took bag off it and then a bloke rubbed its belly wi’ a stick and you should have heard it groan. It were summat like the last expiring moments of a dying cow.  I were just thinking of going when a little chap came on, all dolled up in a white waistcoat and wi’ a flower in his buttonhole and everything went dead quiet.  You could have heard a pin drop.  He ‘ad a stick in his ‘and and he started waving it about and all the singers stared at him.  I reckon they was wondering what were the matter we ‘im.
Then they started to sing and they hadn’t been going long before they were fighting like cats.  I reckon he should have walloped one or two of them with that  stick.  First one side said they were King o’ Glory, then the t’other side said they were, and they went at it hammer and tongs.  But it fizzled out, so I’ve no idea which side won.  Then there was a bit of bother about some sheep that was lost. I don’t know who they belonged to but one lot of singers must have been very fond of mutton ‘cos they kept on singing  “All we like sheep “.  I couldn’t help saying to the chap sitting next to me that sheep’s alright in moderation but I like a bit of beef meself and he looked daggers at me and said “Shush!!” – so I shushed.
Then a bloke stood up and sang by hisself.  They must have been his sheep ‘cos he said every mountain and hill should be made low and I thought they’d be sure to find them.  Then the organist started banging, and the rest of the band was just as mad, ‘cos the way they were sawing them fiddles I thought they were going to go through ’em.  I bet everyone was glad when that chap sat down.
A lot of wimmen stood up after that and all of ’em looked as is they were well – getting on a bit.  Some of ’em must a bin 65 if they were a day.  They sang, “Unto us a child is born” and the chaps shouted back “Wonderful”, and I thought “Wonderful? It’s a blummin miracle”.  After that they sobered down a bit, and sang about a lass called ‘Joyce Greatly’ – I’d never ‘erd of ‘er meself, but the chaps had, ‘cos they all looked mighty pleased about it. 
Then some bloke got up and said he were the King of Kings.  Another said HE was, and then blow me, they all started arguing about it.  I were getting a bit fed up when everyone stood up to see what were the matter and they suddenly shouted “HALLELULAH . . . . It’s going to rain for ever and ever!!’
Well at that I jumped up and made straight for’t door.  I’d ‘ad me money’s worth and besides I were thinking that if it was going to rain for ever and ever I’d better get home before the flood came. 
It were a real good do though – you should ‘a come, but ooo……. I do ‘ope they find them sheep.
 
Credits: Anonymous St Swithun's Parishioner / St Swithun's Church

E24: Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage [There is a pleasure in the pathless woods] - Lord Byron

Lord Byron - Childe Harold's Pilgrimage [There is a pleasure in the pathless woods]
 
Written/Published: 3rd March 1812
Theme:
In these lines of ‘Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage,’ the poet engages with themes of change, the sea, and power. The latter is used to reference the power of the sea as well as humankind’s lack of power in the face of the indomitable ocean. It has raged the same since the dawn of creation, and no human force can control or tame it. This is something that brings the speaker great joy rather than fear. He relishes in the idea of what the ocean harbours and its ability to refuse humankind that which it desires. The sea represents true freedom to the speaker and to Byron. It’s untamed, pathless, and unpredictable, like the woods in which no one has ever tread. By the end of the poem, Byron admits that things have changed. He and his speaker are not the same as they were at the beginning of the poem, at the beginning of Byron’s journeys, or at the beginning of life. It’s time to move on, he says.(PoemAnalysis, 2022)
 
Poem:
There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,   There is a rapture on the lonely shore,   There is society where none intrudes,   By the deep Sea, and music in its roar:   I love not Man the less, but Nature more,   From these our interviews, in which I steal   From all I may be, or have been before,   To mingle with the Universe, and feelWhat I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.
   Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean--roll!   Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain;   Man marks the earth with ruin--his control   Stops with the shore;--upon the watery plain   The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain   A shadow of man's ravage, save his own,   When for a moment, like a drop of rain,   He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan,Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown.
   His steps are not upon thy paths,--thy fields   Are not a spoil for him,--thou dost arise   And shake him from thee; the vile strength he wields   For earth's destruction thou dost all despise,   Spurning him from thy bosom to the skies,   And send'st him, shivering in thy playful spray   And howling, to his gods, where haply lies   His petty hope in some near port or bay,And dashest him again to earth: —there let him lay.
 
Credits: George Gordon Byron - Lord Byron (1812), PoemAnalysis (2022), Poets.org (2022)

E23: Lines For Winter - Mark Strand

Mark Strand - Lines For Winter
 
Written/Published: 1979, Selected Poems
Theme: "The echo of “as it gets cold” implies the language could be seen as appealing to readers for separate stages of understanding, not just the physical “cold” of winter, but also the coldness that comes with loss of emotion and possibly death, or at least accompanying the sober recognition of one’s own mortality. Surely, images of winter or night frequently signal acknowledgement of one’s mortality and the “gray” in line two hints at a common sign of ageing. Even the poem’s title, “Lines of Winter,” may be seen as reference to later life’s facial lines, those wrinkles gained through age and experience, particularly for anyone who has endured a history of painful events." (Edward Byrne, 2008)
Poem:
Tell yourself
as it gets cold and gray falls from the air
that you will go on
walking, hearing
the same tune no matter where
you find yourself—
inside the dome of dark
or under the cracking white
of the moon's gaze in a valley of snow.
Tonight as it gets cold
tell yourself
what you know which is nothing
but the tune your bones play
as you keep going. And you will be able
for once to lie down under the small fire
of winter stars.
And if it happens that you cannot
go on or turn back
and you find yourself
where you will be at the end,
tell yourself
in that final flowing of cold through your limbs
that you love what you are.
 
Credits: Mark Strand Selected Poems 1979 / Edward Byrne 2008