I read books far more than poetry but that does not mean I don't appreciate poetry. I had not actually written poetry in years (since my school days) until a few years ago when I attempted one as a love poem about the sunsets Carol and I have appreciated during our 45 years together. It spoke of sunsets we have witnessed in Hawaii, France, West Indies, Egypt, Guatemala, Peru, Arizona, etc. It was written to a beautiful woman but was pretty pathetic in style, so I will stick to what others have written by way of poetry. Here is a sampling of some poetry or prose that has moved me over the years, not necessarily because of its style in some cases but rather because of its core message. I won't include love poetry in this blog, as those are more personal. The first one below, by Rudyard Kipling, hangs on a wall in our home and helped me to find the perspective I greatly needed during my years of living in the goldfish bowl as a city manager in California.
'if' by rudyard kipling
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master,
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!
Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936)
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The following poem is folksy but when I heard it decades ago I felt it said a great deal about the value of hard work.
Bill Brown
Bill Brown made a million, Bill Brown, think of that!
A boy, you remember, as poor as a rat.
Who hoed for the neighbors, did jobs by the day,
Well Bill's made a million, or near it, they say.
You can't understand it, well, neither could I.
But then I remembered, and now I know why.
The bell might be ringin', the dinner horn blow,
But Bill always hoed to the end of the row.
Bill worked for my father, you maybe recall.
He wasn't a wonder, not that, not at all.
He couldn't out-hoe me, nor cover more ground,
Or hoe any cleaner, or beat me around.
In fact I was better one way that I knew:
One toot from the kitchen, and home I would go,
But Bill always hoed to the end of the row.
We used to get hungry out there in the corn,
You talk about music, what equals a horn?
A horn yellin' dinner, tomatoes and beans,
And pork and potatoes, and gravy and greens.
I ain't blamin' no one, for quittin' on time,
To stop with the whistle, that ain't any crime.
But as for the million, well, this much I know:
That Bill always hoed to the end of the row!
(poem by Douglas Malloch, published around 1926.)
(poem by Douglas Malloch, published around 1926.)
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There is so much good in the worst of us and so much bad in the best of us that it hardly behooves any of us to talk about the rest of us.
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That Man is a Success
Who has lived well, laughed often and loved much;Who has gained the respectof intelligent men and the love of children;Who has filled his nicheand accomplished his task;Who leaves the world better than he found it,whether by an improved poppy or a perfect poem or a rescued soul;Who never lacked appreciation of earth's beautyor failed to express it;Who looked for the best in othersand gave the best he had.
by Robert Louis Stevenson
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Aimer, ce n'est pas se regarder l'un l'autre, c'est regarder ensemble dans la meme direction. (To love is not to look at each other but to look outward together in the same direction.) Antoine de Saint Exupery. " The Little Prince"
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Love sees more not less. But because it sees more it is willing to see less.
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'Tis the Set of the Sail -- or -- One Ship Sails East
by Ella Wheeler Wilcox 1916But to every mind there openeth,
A way, and way, and away,
A high soul climbs the highway,
And the low soul gropes the low,
And in between on the misty flats,
The rest drift to and fro.
But to every man there openeth,
A high way and a low,
And every mind decideth,
The way his soul shall go.
One ship sails East,
And another West,
By the self-same winds that blow,
'Tis the set of the sails
And not the gales,
That tells the way we go.
Like the winds of the sea
Are the waves of time,
As we journey along through life,
'Tis the set of the soul,
That determines the goal,
And not the calm or the strife.
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The Road Not Taken
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
by Robert Frost
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“[The fact is] most putts don’t drop. Most beef is tough. Most children grow up to be just people. Most successful marriages require a high degree of mutual toleration. Most jobs are more often dull than otherwise. …Life is like an old-time rail journey—delays, sidetracks, smoke, dust, cinders and jolts, interspersed only occasionally by beautiful vistas and thrilling bursts of speed. The trick is to thank the Lord for letting you have the ride” (“Big Rock Candy Mountains,” Deseret News, 12 June 1973, A4).
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So what books have I read? Far too many to try to remember. Back in my college days I remember the book "Victims of Group Think" (Irving Janis) was very instructive, especially considering my chosen occupational field. During my city manager career I enjoyed various management books such as "In Search of Excellence," (Tom Peters) and quite a few others. Helping me in trying to figure out some of the people I was called upon to deal with I found the books People of the Lie and The Road Less Traveled (Scott Peck, author) very useful. Kite Runner was very moving also.
I enjoy historical novels (e.g. Michener, etc.) and history books, especially by David McCullough. John Adams, Mayflower, and 1776 were great. Beyond the Bible and Book of Mormon, both of which I that I have read multiple times, I have read scores of religious books and commentaries that have been edifying and clarifying in my life. An occasional Western novel of the older genre can be pleasurable, including but not limited to Louis L'Amour's books. When my oldest soon lived in Haiti I read a useful book about the practice of Voodoo. Recently I have read The Glass Castles (Walls), Killing Lincoln, Killing Jesus, and Killing Kennedy. (O'Reilly and Dugard). Sometimes an old classic is good to read. A recent one was Green Mansions, by Hudson. Oh, and John Grisham books, too, brought relaxation some years ago. I enjoyed the message of The Go-Getter (more of a story than a book) by Peter Kyne.
A haunting play/book/story is The Portrait of Dorian Gray, (Oscar Wilde) as it portrays how we all must ultimately answer for the kind of life we have lived, regardless of how we may have fooled others through our hypocrisy.
Since returning from France 10 months ago I read a large volume called Paris, (Rutherford) about France through the ages. In the 80's or 90's I read Fifties by Halberstam. I wasn't sure whether to be proud of my generation or dismayed--I guess it was some of both. The book From Beirut to Jerusalem (Friedman) is telling and does not give me a great deal of hope for long-term peace in the Middle East. Carol and I have listened to many, many books on CD while driving and had a delightful experience listening to Uncle Tom's Cabin as we toured the South (Alabama, Mississippi, South Carolina, Georgia) a few years ago. What an experience that was. I love reading biographies of great men and women and find them motivational. I'll stop here--the list is way too long to try to remember or comment in any meaningful way. Our home is filled with books, including many of those referenced above, along with many reference type books.
As a child I was inspired by elementary biographies I read in fourth and fifth grade regarding Luther Burbank, Will Rogers (a boyhood hero), Abe Lincoln, John Paul Jones, Thomas Edison, George Washington Carver and others. My high school years introduced me to Ivanhoe, Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner, Exodus, Of Human Bondage, Crime and Punishment, The Scarlet Letter, Huckleberry Finn and other worthwhile works of literature.
I suppose all the books I have read end up becoming a little bit of who I am and how I view the world.
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