tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-554336815851844221.post5600173157179590834..comments2023-04-06T09:37:50.184-04:00Comments on Sophie & Eleanor: my new favorite: national poem in your pocket dayAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13901003134898803155noreply@blogger.comBlogger4125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-554336815851844221.post-78796569900797106462010-04-30T20:48:08.592-04:002010-04-30T20:48:08.592-04:00I love these! & hope people will post more, ev...I love these! & hope people will post more, even if they're not in your pocket. Any old poem from any old place will do.Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13901003134898803155noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-554336815851844221.post-58295440370672794812010-04-30T08:42:10.386-04:002010-04-30T08:42:10.386-04:00The poem in my pocket was, "What I Understood...The poem in my pocket was, "What I Understood," by Katha Pollitt.<br /><br /> When I was a child I understood everything<br />about, for example, futility. Standing for hours<br />on the hot asphalt outfield, trudging for balls<br />I'd ask myself, how many times will I have to perform<br />this pointless task, and all the others? I knew<br />about snobbery, too, and cruelty—for children<br />are snobbish and cruel—and loneliness: in restaurants<br />the dignity and shame of solitary diners<br />disabled me, and when my grandmother<br />screamed at me, "Someday you'll know what it's like!"<br />I knew she was right, the way I knew<br />about the single rooms my teachers went home to,<br />the pictures on the dresser, the hoard of chocolates,<br />and that there was no God, and that I would die.<br />All this I understood, no one needed to tell me.<br />the only thing I didn't understand<br />was how in a world whose predominant characteristics<br />are futility, cruelty, loneliness, disappointment<br />people are saved every day<br />by a sparrow, a foghorn, a grassblade, a tablecloth.<br />This year I'll be<br />thirty-nine, and I still don't understand it.Sarahhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/15179309432824861179noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-554336815851844221.post-34446359160392859852010-04-29T16:28:52.265-04:002010-04-29T16:28:52.265-04:00Yay! Great idea to blog your poem. I have been hol...Yay! Great idea to blog your poem. I have been holed up studying all day, so this is a good way to share the holiday. <br /><br />My poem is long enough that the line breaks don't work in the comments section: http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/index.php?date=2009/11/24<br /><br />I picked it because it was in the writers almanac and stuck in my head.Eznoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-554336815851844221.post-73548218372620996092010-04-29T15:27:09.524-04:002010-04-29T15:27:09.524-04:00You are so lovely. You inspired me: http://theshe...You are so lovely. You inspired me: http://thesheckspot.blogspot.com/2010/04/put-poem-in-your-pocket.html<br /><br />But the real answer is here:<br />It Is That Dream <br />by Olav Hague<br /><br />It's that dream we carry with us<br />That something wonderful will happen,<br />That it has to happen,<br />That time will open,<br />That the heart will open,<br />That doors will open,<br />That the mountains will open up,<br />That wells will leap up,<br />That the dream will open,<br />That one morning we'll slip in<br />To a harbor that we've never known.The Sheckhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17794972508218564277noreply@blogger.com