Poem Sunday

I hope you all are having a great weekend!

My first series of posts on this blog is called "Poem Sunday", and it consists of my sharing at least one original poem every Sunday afternoon or evening for the month of February. If you enjoy the upcoming poetry and would like to read more, feel free to say so in the comments below.I'd be happy to extend "Poem Sunday" over March, and even April, if enough of you are interested.

To introduce it, I'll answer the obvious question many of you might have: Why is Clara writing the poem series, "Poem Sunday"?

I feel like our weekends have become so busy and cluttered sometimes that it gets hard just to breathe, relax, and enjoy the quiet for a little while; just to pause in the hectic busyness that is life. To let our hearts make new connections, to daydream and reflect without overtaxing our minds, to rest for a few minutes...

...And then to face reality again, discovering as we return that this little time wasted was time well-spent.

I hope that reading and reflecting on these first three poems gives you all some well-wasted time :)

I.

Possibility

Is not bottled up in dark,murky glass

To be carefully unstoppered and measured out

In little drips and dots called possibilities

One by one

One after another

One at a time

To be drained dry

In some mischievous hour

To the sounds of keening

And lament

No

It is not so

Not like that will the possible turn impossible

Never

Possibility

is the tide of a boundless ocean 

whose shores none living have seen

Ebbing and flowing

Chasing and fleeing

Crashing, retreating

Never close enough to grasp

And never truly gone for good

Endless and ever-changing

Never to grow dull
Never to run dry
Never to vanish for good
Or for ill 

And it bows to the impossible
Never

II.

The dream is the reality

The story is the truth

Our castles in the air

Are far more than dreams of youth 

We see our own tomorrow

Which no midnight can occlude

And even though the daylight fades
And even as the night brings storm

And even as the thunder scoffs

We listen, yet our hearts are glad
We hear and still we falter not
 Tomorrow is of silver hewn
Tomorrow comes in golden clad
Tomorrow never comes too soon
Tomorrow will arrive at last 
  And in Tomorrow from Today 
We see what will be, and what may
And in its gleaming, glinting, glow 

We see our dreams made flesh and know
Far more than ever minds can know

They beckon--and we know

III.

Where the shouting of waves fades into a whisper

 At pale forgotten shores that rim the sea

Will we strike and chip a cavern as a foundation

 To ground our castle in the air

From the mountains shall we quarry marble

Dove-white and silver-veined and strong

To raise into her towers and her ramparts

To raise our castle in the air

From moonlight shall we weave her drapes and tapestries

From diamond shall we cut her window-glass

From starlight and from pearls we fashion lanterns

To light our castle in the air

A fortress strong and certain shall this palace be

But there shall stand no grim and heavy gate

To guard against the murmur of the seashore

Outside our castle in the air

The  warm and blue-green waters shall caress the crags

And shall through many years smooth rocky shores

Till they both night and day reflect the gleam

Cast by our castle in the air