Poems can be a doorway into another world. Each one, a simple arrangement of otherwise ordinary words, that together evoke presence, wonder, possibility. So here is an invitation to pause, let the words wash over you and glimpse the world they offer you…
It’s a growing collection, and we’d love to hear which ones resonate with you and why, and find out about your favourites. Here is an index of our Words of Wonder.
I carry your face in a mobile shrine and I take it out on the Underground. Your digital eyes look into mine. I change at Farringdon and I have changed. Touched by you, my skin is kozo tissue, my hair rose perfumed ink, My eyelids are gold leaf. The woman on my right, reflected in…
If death is inevitable, if it is a sure thing that this face, these hands, this body that holds a lifetime of this living, will, someday, no longer be here, if you don’t get to take a single thing with you — then — why spend a moment more refusing, worrying about who might disapprove,…
I asked my mother where she kept her love and she answered: My love is a golden bird in a crystal cage and that cage is perched on the head of a fat boa coiled at the top of a tree and that tree is surrounded by scorpions and tigers and bears. So I went…
What we want: Moments Of lucidity Or better yet: of crystal clarity Rare are those moments And thoroughly hidden Searching hardly Pays off, but Finding does The art is to live So that it comes to pass That clarity, now and then by Martin Bril translated from Dutch by Kristine This poem, by the Dutch writer and…
Me: Hey God. God: Hey John. Me: I’m about to break. God: Why do you think that is? Me: Because life just keeps getting harder. God: Then you need to become softer. Me: Huh? God: Here is the thing: glass is hard but it can shatter easily when dropped rock is hard but it can…
Johnny, the kitchen sink has been clogged for days, some utensil probably fell down there. And the Drano won’t work but smells dangerous, and the crusty dishes have piled up waiting for the plumber I still haven’t called. This is the everyday we spoke of. It’s winter again: the sky’s a deep, headstrong blue, and…
And did you get what you wanted from this life, even so? I did. And what did you want? To call myself beloved, to feel myself beloved on the earth. by Raymond Carver This was the last poem in Raymond Carver’s last book, written while he was dying of cancer. It is also the…
She let go. She let go. Without a thought or a word, she let go. She let go of the fear. She let go of the judgments. She let go of the confluence of opinions swarming around her head. She let go of the committee of indecision within her. She let go of all the…
Oh do you have time to linger for just a little while out of your busy and very important day for the goldfinches that have gathered in a field of thistles for a musical battle, to see who can sing the highest note, or the lowest, or the most expressive of mirth, or the most…