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So I’ve scrounged up a couple more books of poetry to explore: An Invitation to Poetry — A New Favorite Poem Project Anthology edited by Robert Pinskky and Maggie Dietz, and The Rag and Bone Shop of the Heart — Poems for Men (not sure what I’ll find in this one!) edited by Robert Bly, James Hillman, and Michael Meade, all well-know poets in their own right.

But since I haven’t had a chance to start reading yet, I’m going back to an old favorite this week. Rilke. For a bio on Rilke you can check out links to No One Lives His Life and The Loner.

This poem really tickles my fancy because there are momnts I sense the same thing. Premonitions? Hm… Maybe sometimes. But whether the feelings bring forth any fruit or not, they always make the hair stand up on the back of my neck. I think I have a very over active imagination!

How about you? Do you get the sort of “pregnant” feeling Rilke is talking about in this bit of writing from his Book of Images? That’s really the best way to describe it for me…


Like a flag, I am surrounded by distances.
I sense the winds that are coming
and must live them
while the things below do not yet stir.
Doors still close gently
and windows don’t shake.
Ashes lie heavy on the hearth.

But I know about gales
and I shudder like the sea.
I unfurl myself and fold in again
and flail back and forth,
all alone in the great storm.

Picture Source: Encyclopedia Britannica