Day 09 and 10: A poem that you want to read in bed to your lover and a poem that you wished your mother/father read to you

Day 9

Like everyone else, my first impulse was to run towards Neruda or Cummings, but this one’s so simple and well, somehow very apt. It’s not very sensual, there’s actually something wonderfully pure about it, which I love.

 Name

When did your name
change from a proper noun
to a charm?

Its three vowels
like jewels
on the thread of my breath.

Its consonants
brushing my mouth
like a kiss.

I love your name.
I say it again and again
in this summer rain.

I see it,
discreet in the alphabet,
like a wish.

I pray it
into the night
till its letters are light.

I hear your name
rhyming, rhyming,
rhyming with everything.

Carol Ann Duffy

Day 10

My parents never read any poetry to me and even if they did, I doubt I would have appreciated it as a kid. I came across multiple printouts of this in a desk in a random classroom at school and I’ve always wished I’d discovered this sooner. It’s considered hackneyed and is constantly quoted, but you can’t deny that Mr. Kipling gives some solid advice here.

If

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;

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 imposters 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 wornout tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath 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!

Rudyard Kipling 

Ps: Hands healing along nicely. Thank you for the comments, mails and well wishes. Totally feeling the love 🙂

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2 thoughts on “Day 09 and 10: A poem that you want to read in bed to your lover and a poem that you wished your mother/father read to you

  1. Thanks for posting the Carol Ann Duffy poem. That is wonderful. I remember that as a teenager that when smitten by someone, that the name was such a visible part of that crush: writing it down in the border or between lines of class notes, doodling and drawing around the written-down name, thinking the name in odd moments, etc.

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