“The winding path of words”

Today, I share two poems from the book of poems Insomnia by Linda Pastan. In the first poem Pastan likens the work of the poet to that of the work of farmers, forever hoeing and planting. The second poem touches on “writer’s block” and is a tribute to the poet William Stafford. A habit of Stafford was to begin to write something new each morning. Some days I sit down to write a blog post and I have no idea where I might end up, the path certainly does wind and I am often surprised where it leads me. I considered stopping at post 100, but couldn’t quite give it up. I thought 200 would be a good place to stop, but like a farmer, I keep on hoeing and planting not quite ready to stop and ever hopeful of what might grow from a single bean! I hope these poems stir your imagination and give you courage to write or at least to make a start, one never knows quite where the winding path of words might lead. Enjoy.

The Poets
They are farmers, really –
hoeing and planting

in strict rows ripe with manure,
coaxing each nebulous seed
 
to grow. Year after year
of drought or rainstorm,
 
locust or killing frost, they bundle
their hay into stacks
 
of inflammable gold, or litter
the barn floors with empty husks.
 
At the market they acknowledge
each other gruffly and move on,
 
noting who has the more bountiful
harvest, whose bushel baskets
 
are laden with beets and tomatoes,
tumescent with fruit.
 
Under the sheen of success
or the long shadow of failure,
 
what they labor for remains
the same: their own muscular
 
beanstalk rocketing skyward
from a single bean. Linda Pastan

Remembering Stafford
On His Centennial 

When you said there was no such thing
as writer’s block if your standards
were low enough, everyone laughed
and I laughed too, but you meant it, didn’t you? 

The point is to follow the winding path
of words wherever it wants to take you, step
by step, ignoring the boulders, the barbed wire
fences, the rutted ditches choked with ragweed.

How complicated such simplicities are.
Forget the destination, you taught us,
forget applause; what matters is the journey.
And started one yourself, each morning. Linda Pastan
both poems from her book Insomnia: poems (2015) W.W. Norton & Company

Prayer:
Lord God,
the weather is hot, the days
and nights humid. Oh for
a cool breath of wind. Yet others
pray for the wind to stop, for the forest fires to cease, while
others pray for the wind to quickly pass and the rain
to stop so they might dare to begin to pick up the pieces.
Lord God,
others pray for shelter amidst the carnage of war, and search
for food, even a mouthful, to keep hope and body alive. Children
search for parents, and parents search for children,
how can such evil exist we
ask.
Lord God,
all to often
too many words, winding paths,
leading nowhere.
Lord God, hear all our prayers and the prayers
of all.
Come Lord, and lead us in your path and might
your way
be for all.
Lord God,
I
pray
Amen.