Days – Some Poetry in Life


I guess it was school that made me hate poetry at first. It was sooo boring, and we students needed to study and learn by heart things that were so distant from us. But now. Enjoying poetry is for me free from any school homework, and when I read poetry I really sip the lines, and wait, and read and re-read them. Don’t feel the pressure of finding the implicit meaning – if there’s one – or detect rhythm and rhymes and so on.

Funny how, besides the Masters of poetry (for me Shakespeare, but also Hikmet), I have recently discovered Philip Larkin. I know, he is “tough”, he is somehow different. I so much love “This be the verse”, but I understand sensitive souls could be surprised by this. If you know the poem you can understand it.

Anyway, here is a poem by Larkin, just for you all.

Have a good night,



What are days for?
Days are where we live.   
They come, they wake us   
Time and time over.
They are to be happy in:   
Where can we live but days?
Ah, solving that question
Brings the priest and the doctor   
In their long coats
Running over the fields.
Philip Larkin, “Days ” from Whitsun Weddings. Copyright © Estate of Philip Larkin.  Reprinted by permission of Faber and Faber, Ltd.
Source: Collected Poems (Farrar Straus and Giroux, 2001)

A Spring Light Poem Magic


My bulbs are “springing ” out

A light exists in spring 
Not present on the year 
At any other period. 
When March is scarcely here 

A color stands abroad 
On solitary hills 
That science cannot overtake, 
But human naturefeels. 

It waits upon the lawn; 
It shows the furthest tree 
Upon the furthest slope we know; 
It almost speaks to me. 

Then, as horizons step, 
Or noons report away, 
Without the formula of sound, 
It passes, and we stay: 

A quality of loss 
Affecting our content, 
As trade had suddenly encroached 
Upon a sacrament.

by Emily Dickinson