This Is Not An Exercise

"This is my letter to the world, 

That never wrote to me, . . ."

~ Emily Dickinson, J. 441

On a visit to social media this morning, I was reminded that today is World Poetry Day.  I had already planned to create a new blog entry containing a poem I wrote Tuesday, and now it makes sense why I was delayed in doing so.  

I will note that this poem is not intended to undermine or discourage participating in workshops, classes or mentoring opportunities which incorporate writing prompts and exercises.  The intent of this poem is to value spontaneous human creativity.  It came to me at a time of day when it was not particularly convenient for me to write, but I did so anyway - and that is the point.  

It's not the only poem I wrote or read in this past week.  Synchronicity is ever with us.

This Is Not An Exercise

I am not in a workshop
I am not in a class
I am not "AI prompted"
It is not induced labor
I did not watch a video
I am not presently on Zoom
I responded to nobody's question
I'm not following directions 
in a book (or anywhere else)
I can edit it, or not
It has no particular destination
But it demanded some clarification.
It simply IS.
I am calling it "my writing".
I didn't plan to write it now.
I'll even dare to call it a poem.
Because obviously, it is.
(Do I really need to say that?)
A poem that's now complete.

~ Susan Larison Danz, March 17, 2026

Blossoms photo by Susan Larison Danz on March 21, 2026

Hope, Revisited

"To the poor loveless ever-anxious crowd, 

Ah! from the soul itself must issue forth

A light, a glory, a fair luminous cloud       

Enveloping the Earth" 

~ Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Today's Frontier Beyond Fear broadcast explored Hope:

We could all use some time reflecting on Hope.  Host Susan Larison Danz shares how we can find our way to Hope, no matter what is going on in our lives or our world.

A portion of the poem Dejection: An Ode is read and discussed as a part of this program.  It is very approachable for all listeners and was written by Samuel Taylor Coleridge in 1802.  Samuel lived 1772-1834 and struggled with a number of things in his life - heartbreak, financial failure, doubt and serious addiction - and yet he writes of how he looks for hope and joy in this poem.  There is also a brief reference in this program to the phrase "Hope springs eternal", written by Alexander Pope.  When we read literature, we find it is more approachable than we realize, and we can learn so many things useful for improving our lives and world today through studying the writing of imperfect lives in imperfect times, just as our own lives and times are imperfect.

Listen to the podcast here:  Reflections on Hope

 

Azaleas photo by Susan Larison Danz.

 

 

A Poetic Interlude

 "To her fair works did Nature link

The human soul that through me ran;

And much it grieved my heart to think

What man has made of man." 

~ William Wordsworth

Today I did something new on The Frontier Beyond Fear Blog Talk Radio program - a live broadcast centered around reading poetry, with reflections amid the poems.

You can listen to the podcast here:  A Poetic Interlude

 

 

 

Reflection of Trees photo by Susan Larison Danz.  

 

Page Break

"I have never started a poem yet whose end I knew.  Writing a poem is discovering." ~  Robert Frost

I must admit it has been a busy week, and by the time I get to this blog, I'm rather spent - though I continue to be dedicated to my intent to blog daily.  I'm thankful for my Saturday night poems for this purpose!  Here is another one from last Saturday night.  Did I mention I haven't written many poems in recent years?  Some scattered about, but not many, and not lately - writing, yes, but poetry, no - Saturday night was a spontaneous exercise, and one I intend to repeat.  When I was a teen and young adult, I loved to write poetry, but things were different then . . .

Page Break

In the old days

there was actually

a stack

a page

a pen

or maybe a typewriter

I can’t decide if this is better.

~ Susan Larison Danz

Poetry is an artistic adventure.  We don't need to be Robert Frost to proceed down the path.  We just need to be ourselves, and that is enough. 

 

 

Forest path photo by Susan Larison Danz.

Veils

"Write what should not be forgotten." ~ Isabel Allende

Another Saturday night is coming soon.  Will more poems arrive?  We will see....this one is from last Saturday.

Veils

What’s the point, really?

Is there really a point

to writing

with a veil?

Perhaps the wind will take it

And what will we discover?

The wind has its purpose.

~ Susan Larison Danz

 

The Beauty Beyond photo by Susan Larison Danz.

The Times

"Poetry is what gets lost in translation." ~ Robert Frost

I created a spontaneous exercise late last night and wrote some poetry.  I didn't actually know if the exercise would work, but apparently it did.  And so I'll be sharing some poems along the way, when they arrive.

 

 

The Times

We talk about the times 

They talked about them, too 

We’re not the first 

Neither were they 

Listen to them. 

Listen to us. 

And move forward.

~ Susan Larison Danz 

Frozen Reflection photo by Susan Larison Danz.

Music, Interwoven

“If I had my life to live over again, I would have made a rule to read some poetry and listen to some music at least once every week.”~ Charles Darwin

Some weeks ago my main cable TV connection went out.  The wiring into the home, I had been told last year, was not up to the standards of the latest equipment, but it had managed to work for a long while.  It actually worked fine until it was necessary to disconnect it briefly one day, and then it was never really the same again, and very soon, it gave out completely.  I decided not to reconnect it.

At first I missed it.

You see, somehow I had apparently stopped noticing the noise.  And when the noise was gone, it felt very strange.  The noise was actually generally the cable news spouting opinions about the state of the world - because "the news" isn't "the news" anymore and probably never was, but nowadays it doesn't even pretend to be "news" - it's shrill opinion, with a little "news" mixed in, no matter what the leanings of the "news station".

It turns out I didn't need it.  I learn what small amount of "actual news" I need to know in other ways.  Yes, I missed the old movies I liked to watch on TCM, but that's why we have libraries and DVDs.  And even those were tending to distract me.  So were other forms of talk, at the times I didn't need to hear it (as a radio host myself, I know helpful conversations have their place, but we need to personally respect what that place is).

I needed the Peace.  I needed the Stillness.

When family is here, we needed the Stillness, too, especially during dinner.  We used to be tempted to turn on the TV and generally watch "the news".

So what are evenings like now?

Musical.  Beautifully Musical. 

I realized one night it is shared, well beyond this home.  When I turn on the local Classical station, like I did on both Christmas and New Year's Eve (and Christmas and New Year's night, too, and all of the nights in between), it's like going to a concert.  (It's on at times during the day too, in between sometimes switching the station to Jazz.  It's on right now.)  When you are listening to a particularly good station, it has a way of surprising you - you come to realize the Music is lovingly woven together by the hosts, over time, night after night after night and day after day (the hosts are actually artists and composers themselves - that's what the weaving is).  You yourself become woven into the form.  It becomes inextricable.

There is something here that I've been missing.  I've felt I've known it before, and then somehow I lost it.  But I have found it, again. 

I'm reading more.  I'm feeling personally poetic (though I've been no stranger to poetry).   I'm even blogging right now (though I've been no stranger to writing).

It is changing me.  I feel it, already.  There is a new pattern.  There is a Divine majesty to it.  There is a kind of an unfolding.  It's like walking in Nature.  Perhaps it's just Beauty, and a kind of re-centering.

It is Still, even when not.

How is it the Music connects me even more to "the world" than "the news"?   Yet, exactly, so, it is.

"Nature Religion" at my Door

"Forgive me that I cannot kneel

And worship in this pew,

For I have knelt in western dawns,

When the stars were large and few"

~ "God's Creed", Ella Higginson, 1861-1940

It's a rare morning when the front page of a city's newspaper shares the heartfelt words of Ella Higginson, a poet laureate of Washington state.  I'm happy to discover Ella - she and I are clearly kindred spirits on the path in many ways.

The excerpt from her poem God's Creed appeared in the following story:  Do you see God in a sunset?  "Nature religion" may be the signature spirituality of the Pacific Northwest.  

Apparently another study (this one by Baylor University) has awarded Portland the distinction of being the most unchurched city in the entire United States - and Oregon the most unchurched state.  

This particular study took a rather unique approach: 

"Researchers compared the richness of natural amenities in every U.S. county to religious adherents per 1,000 people.  They found that areas with higher rates of amenities have lower rates of religious adherence."

I'm not at all surprised.  Like Ella, I walk the passages of "Nature's church" most days of the week, and even when I must remain at home, my church sends missionaries to my door.

Whispers

Quietly the mountain
whispers, whispered
carrying the Winds
A child she was
Knowing
A woman she is
Remembering
Reclaiming the wisdom
of the Winds

~ Susan Larison Danz

Chains

An illusory embrace
In the guise of binds
An unanticipated instant
I watched them fall
In their fall was rising

Photo from Wikipedia Commons, licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license.

The Gift

"Then give to the world the best that you have,
And the best will come back to you." 

~ Madeline S. Bridges  

(Mary Ainge De Vere, b. 1840's) 

When I was very young, there was a poster on my wall depicting a beautiful waterfall and a bridge.  I'm quite certain it was Multnomah Falls, one of the most photographed waterfalls in the world, a place I would only much later come to know in this beautiful state I call home.

There was a quote on the poster, unattributed, words written upon my heart every single day, an excerpt from a poem by 19th century American poet Madeline S. Bridges, whose real name is Mary Ainge De Vere.  Every day, I was reminded to be the best I could possibly be, give the most I could possibly give:

"Give to the world the best that you have,
And the best will come back to you."

A picture I took of Multnomah Falls, Oregon on a winter day.

I kept the poster with me for many years.  It came with me to more than one college.  It was up on my first office wall.  It was up in various apartments.  And then for a while, worn and torn from several moves, it was simply rolled up in an attic, as I was just too sentimental to throw it away.  Eventually, I had to let it go, as it was simply a poster, never framed, and it couldn't last forever.  Yet even long after the poster was gone, the words came to me, echoing in my mind for half a lifetime.

On this day, a critically vital day, a day of birth and rebirth, the day I became a mother many years ago, Mary's words are with me once again.  She was not a particularly famous poet, yet her words, a simple, heartfelt expression, had an indelible impact on a life, my life, and no doubt others too.

Mary is not in Wikipedia (though perhaps she should be).  There is very little to be found on her life online.  From scant resources that do exist (accurate or not), it is said she was a life-long poet who lived in Brooklyn, New York, born in the 1840's, with poems published in periodicals in 1870 and 1890.  I'm really not sure when she wrote Life's Mirror, which I quote in its entirety below (with a caveat that what one finds online may not always be quoted precisely). 

Life's Mirror 

by Madeline S. Bridges 

(Mary Ainge De Vere)

There are loyal hearts, there are spirits brave,
There are souls that are pure and true;
Then give to the world the best that you have,
And the best will come back to you.

Give love, and love to your life will flow,
A strength in your utmost need;
Have faith, and a score of hearts will show
Their faith in your work and deed.

Give truth, and your gift will be paid in kind,
And honor will honor meet;
And the smile which is sweet will surely find
A smile that is just as sweet.

Give sorrow and pity to those who mourn;
You will gather in flowers again
The scattered seeds from your thought outborne
Though the sowing seemed but vain.

For life is the mirror of king and slave,
'Tis just what we are and do;
Then give to the world the best that you have
And the best will come back to you.

The world is filled with brilliant writers most of us have never known, their voices from the heart.  Yet sometimes, in the most mysterious of ways, their words emerge to change a life, a Gift that keeps on giving the world its very best.

Poetry in Disguise

I mentioned in a recent post that I might try my hand at poetry again.  Then I realized that thanks to social media (especially Twitter), I never really stopped.  The poems just got shorter.  Call it Twitter Haiku.  ;-)  In fact, this isn't even a new discovery, as I once tweeted long ago "Twitter: The poet's playground, one line at a time..."

The heart space is an unusual dimension - the more it expands, the closer those within become

Those who first played with fire led the rest in from the cold.

Love builds gates in fences.

You are the warden of the prison of your fears.  Only you can set yourself free.

A mutual embrace with God requires rising from one's knees.

The night cannot conquer the Dawn.

Our fears and insecurities are but tiny bits of sand in an Ocean of Love and Empowerment.    

The raging flames of fear cannot ultimately resist the gentle rains of Love.

If you choose to see heaven, it will be all around you.

Be still and know that We are Love.