The Poetry Platform

11/10/2024

12/09/2024

Hope

I had been carrying hope
in my pocket like it was
polished gemstone for years

whenever trouble came
I’d squeeze hope tightly
in my shaking hand

and I could feel
it bump against my
palm like a newborn
heartbeat

that’s how
I knew that
I was safe

recently though,
I somehow lost my hope

I have no idea if I put it down
somewhere or if it slipped out
while I was fumbling for my keys

without being able
to hold onto hope

I soon became lost myself

after a while of wandering
in the wild on my own

I bumped into hope
~ who looked so different

hope was no longer a
little gemstone that could
Fit in my pants pocket

hope was a now a wide stream
cutting through the woods

“I thought I lost you!” I admonished

the river grabbed a couple of
rainbow trout and used them
to smile at me

“lost me?” The water babbled. “That’s impossible!”

“Well, one minute I was holding onto you and the next you were gone.”

“I needed to change forms,” Hope replied.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because you’ve been carrying me for so long that I decided we should try something different.”

“What’s that?”

“I thought I would take a turn carrying you for a bit.”

the river rose
up around me

and pulled me gently onto
my back

I was floating

I didn’t realize how exhausted I was
until the river held me

and hope carried me
and hope carried me
and hope carried me

~now whenever trouble comes

I just spread my arms open
and let hope wrap me up in
her slow water

and I can still feel it
pulse against me like a
newborn heartbeat

that’s how
I know that
I’m safe

I don’t know where
we are going

hope and I
still appear to
be lost

but at least we
are together

maybe we will stay lost out
here for a while longer

funny enough, I’m in no rush
to get to our destination

because it has been so long
since I’ve felt held by anything

and I think I could really
get used to it “

~ by John Roedel In upcoming book “wonderache”

08/09/2024

ANGELS, by Mary Oliver
You might see an angel anytime
and anywhere. Of course you have
to open your eyes to a kind of
second level, but it’s not really
hard. The whole business of
what’s reality and what isn’t has
never been solved and probably
never will be. So I don’t care to
be too definite about anything.
I have a lot of edges called Perhaps
and almost nothing you can call
Certainty. For myself, but not
for other people. That’s a place
you just can’t get into, not
entirely anyway, other people’s
heads.

I’ll just leave you with this.
I don’t care how many angels can
dance on the head of a pin. It’s
enough to know that for some people
they exist, and that they dance.
(Art by Yaara Eshet)

13/08/2024

It’s been a while….thought this poem by Justin Quinn was worth sharing

12/07/2024

A little Rilke wisdom to start the day
💚

05/06/2024

Your life is your life
A bit of Bukowski inspiration for the day 💚