Moved by the guilt of never having worked with his hands, Neruda opens with the despairing confession, “Why did I not make a broom? / Why was I given hands at all?” The themes of hands and work grow in significance as Neruda celebrates the carpenters, longshoremen, blacksmiths, and bakers—those laborers he admires most—and shares his exuberant adoration for the earth and the people upon it.Yes, I am guiltyof what I did not do,of what I did not sow, did not cut, did not measure,of never having rallied myself to populate lands,of having sustained myself in the desertsand of my voice speaking with the sand.Pablo Neruda (1904–1973) was a Chilean poet and diplomat who received the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1971. Recognized during his life as “a people’s poet,” he is considered one of the greatest artists of the twentieth century.William O’Daly is the best-selling translator of six of Pablo Neruda’s books, including The Book of Questions and The Sea and the Bells. His work as a translator has been featured on The Today Show.

    He "received" a series of poems about which he did not speak for a long time - he considered them sacred, and different from anything else he ever had done and ever would do again. This poet saw the coming darkness of the century, and saw the struggle we would have in our relationship to the divine. The poet was Rainer Maria Rilke, and these love poems to God make up his Book of Hours.

    Eliot, published individually from 1936 to 1942, and in book form in 1943; it was considered by Eliot himself to be his finest work. Each of the quartets has five "movements" and each is titled by a place name -- BURNT NORTON (1936), EAST COKER (1940), THE DRY SALVAGES (1941), and LITTLE GIDDING (1942). Eliot's insights into the cyclical nature of life are revealed through themes and images woven throughout the four poems. Spiritual, philosophical, and personal themes emerge through symbolic allusions and literary and religious references from both Eastern and Western thought. The work addresses the connections of the personal and historical present and past, spiritual renewal, and the very nature of experience; it is considered the poet's clearest exposition of his Christian beliefs. (The Merriam-Webster Encyclopedia of Literature)

    William Chittick translates into English for the first time certain aspects of Rumi's work. He selects and rearranges Rumi's poetry and prose in order to leave aside unnecessary complications characteristic of other English translations and to present Rumi's ideas in an orderly fashion, yet in his own words. Thorough, nontechnical introductions to each chapter, and selections that gradually present a greater variety of terms and images, make this work easily accessible to those interested in the spirituality of any tradition.

    In Part One, we join him on an engaging, often hilarious, and compelling personal journey.... through decades of tasting from a banquet of spiritual approaches. Through his direct experience, fierce exploration, and scintillating discernment, Brown exposes the fragmented, ungrounded and dissociative notions of spirituality that have imprisoned our consciousness and obstructed our awakening since time immemorial. In his cuttingly straight style, he reveals that much of what we have been calling "spirituality" is actually a patriarchal, emotionally bereft construct that perpetuates our self-avoidance. He then proves to us--point by brilliant point--that true spirituality is a whole-being awakening, one that wonderfully embraces our entire human experience. In many spiritual practices, emotional healing processes (blockage clearing, issue resolution, the working through of the shadow) have been bypassed and trivialized, as though the 'real' spiritual realm exists independent of our feelings. Brown makes no distinction between these realms, revealing that emotional maturity and spiritual maturity are synonymous, and that any spirituality that desacralizes our selfhood is not enlightenment at all. It is a bypass of that which is fundamentally human: our feelings, our stories, our bodies, our relationships with each other and the earth that houses us. In his words, "Detachment is a tool- not a life. If you can't find your transformation in the village, you haven't found a thing." In Part Two, Brown engages in a riveting dialogue with an ungrounded seeker named "Michael." Their dialogues unfurl in warmth, humor, playfulness, personal story, threaded with challenging confrontation and cutting truth. Hands-on exercises are dispersed throughout--providing readers with a direct experience of a new, inclusive model. Here the author lays down the tracks for a more balanced, heartfelt and relational spirituality- one that leaves us "enrealed," integrated, and purposeful. Not awakened, but awakening. Not escaping our humanness, but finding our meaning and spirituality deep within it. Out of the ashes of old ways of being, a bright new paradigm comes into view. An inclusive, self-honoring, and healing spiritual perspective that will be a welcomed relief for any seeker.In the author's words, "It's one thing to briefly detach from story in the hopes of gaining a different perspective--it's quite another to deny our storied roots altogether. What will we stand in, then? At a time when our personal stories have been shamed and shunned in the spiritual community, it is all the more imperative to revive them and makes luminous their sacred, transformative properties. The past is not an illusion, as many would suggest. It is the ground of our being, the karmic field for our soul's transformation- the mystery that threads right through our history. Story is where we come from. Story is what roots us in the present. Story is how we arrive at the next place intact. A spirituality without story is like a body without breath. Dead to the world." What we need now are models that lead us back into our hearts, into relatedness, into a deep and reverential regard for the self's journey through time. In this magnificent book, Brown endeavors to hearticulate one such path, reminding us that heaven on earth begins and ends deep within the recesses of our enlivened humanness. At long last, we can lay down our weary heads, burdened by the impossibility of transcending our human experience. Back to our roots, back into our bodies, back into all that makes us marvelously human. Home at last.

    Ephemeral, vivid and therapeutic poems infused with mysticism and female sexuality are accompanied by intimate self-portraits and nude photographs of the artist's closest friends. Taken on black and white film, these pictures were created especially for this book of poetry making it both a visual and written account of the author's personal journey through a difficult time in her life. By diving deep into her individual and intimate experiences, Neringa creates a work of art where everyone can find themselves by immersing themselves in her honest storytelling.

    The title, Regarding Wave,reflects "a half-buried series of word origins dating back through theIndo-European language: intersections of energy, woman, song and 'GoneBeyond Wisdom.'" Central to the work is a cycle of songs for Snyder'swife, Masa, and their first son, Kai. Probing even further than Snyder'sprevious collection of poems, The Back Country, this newvolume freshly explores "the most archaic values on earth… the fertilityof the soil, the magic of animals, the power-vision in solitude, theterrifying initiation and rebirth, the love and ecstasy of the dance,the common work of the tribe…”

    Grappling with grief at the death of the love of her life and partner of over forty years, the remarkable photographer Molly Malone Cook, she strives to experience sorrow as a path to spiritual progress, grief as part of loving and not its end. And within these pages she chronicles for the first time her discovery of faith, without abandoning the love of the physical world that has been a hallmark of her work for four decades. In three stunning long poems, Oliver explores the dimensions and tests the parameters of religious doctrine, asking of being good, for example, "To what purpose? / Hope of Heaven? Not that. But to enter / the other kingdom: grace, and imagination, / and the multiple sympathies: to be as a leaf, a rose,/ a dolphin."

    In their haunted, almost visionary clarity, the poems assay the weight and worth of what has been held in the hand and in the memory. Scenes from a childhood spent far from the horrors of World War II are colored by a strongly contemporary sense that "Anything can happen," and other images from the dangerous present--a fireman's helmet, a journey on the Underground, a melting glacier--are fraught with this same anxiety. But the volume, which includes some "found prose" poems and translations, offers resistance as the poet gathers his staying powers and stands his ground in the hiding places of love and excited language. With more relish and conviction than ever, Heaney maintains his trust in the obduracy of workaday realities and the mystery of everyday renewals.

    "Clifton mythologizes herself: that is, she illuminated her surroundings and history from within in a way that casts light on much beyond."--The Women's Review of Books

    There may be nothing in the poem that can quite touch the first two books of Paradise Lost for magnificence; but there are several things that may fairly be set beside almost anything in the last ten. The splendid "stand at bay" of the discovered tempter -- "'Tis true I am that spirit unfortunate" -- in the first book; his rebuke of Belial in the second, and the picture of the magic banquet (it must be remembered that, though it is customary to extol Milton's asceticism, the story of his remark to his third wife, and the Lawrence and Skinner sonnets, go the other way); above all, the panoramas from the mountaintop in the third and fourth; the terrors of the night of storm; the crisis on the pinnacle of the temple -- are quite of the best Milton, which is equivalent to saying that they are of the best of one kind of poetry.-- The Cambridge History of English and American Literature

    King. Do not let the lack of light stop you from discovering more adventures and stories that will keep you up at night and ignite the imagination. There is no place to hide in, THE DARKNESS!

    The daily devotional thoughts published in Our Daily Bread help readers spend time each day in God’s Word. This electronic edition of Our Daily Bread allows you to enjoy the same inspiring content found in the print edition of Our Daily Bread, but with many additional digital features: • 90 Digital Daily Devotionals • Includes Scripture Passages and Insights • Links to a Daily Bible Reading Plan • Links to Additional Topical Content Resources from Our Daily Bread Ministries • Our Daily Bread Author Biographies Our Daily Bread is published and distributed worldwide in more than 40 languages by Our Daily Bread Ministries offices around the globe. Our Daily Bread Ministries also produces a variety of other Bible resources, which are available for the asking. Our Daily Bread is distributed via print, large-print, radio, podcast, email, rss, and mobile. For social networking users, find Our Daily Bread on Twitter, Facebook, and Google+.

    K. Williams by turns ruminative, stalked by "the conscience-beast, who harries me," and "riven by idiot vigor, voracious as the youth I was for whom everything was going too slowly, too slowly." Poems about animals and rural life are set hard by poems about shrapnel in Iraq and sudden desire on the Paris Métro; grateful invocations of Herbert and Hopkins give way to fierce negotiations with the shades of Coleridge, Dostoevsky, and Celan. What the poems share is their setting in the cool, spacious, spotlit, book-lined place that is Williams's consciousness, a place whose workings he has rendered for fifty years with inimitable candor and style.

    Yet for all their metaphorical suggestiveness, Dickinson’s and Whitman’s poems about the natural world neither preclude nor erase nature’s relevance as an actual living environment. In their respective poetic projects, the earth matters both figuratively, as a realm of the imagination, and also as the physical ground that is profoundly affected by human action. This double perspective, and the ways in which it intersects with their formal innovations, points beyond their traditional status as curiously disparate icons of American nature poetry. That both of them not only approach nature as an important subject in its own right, but also address human-nature relationships in ethical terms, invests their work with important environmental overtones. Dickinson and Whitman developed their environmentally suggestive poetics at roughly the same historical moment, at a time when a major shift was occurring in American culture’s view and understanding of the natural world. Just as they were achieving poetic maturity, the dominant view of wilderness was beginning to shift from obstacle or exploitable resource to an endangered treasure in need of conservation and preservation.A Place for Humility examines Dickinson’s and Whitman’s poetry in conjunction with this important change in American environmental perception, exploring the links between their poetic projects within the context of developing nineteenth-century environmental thought. Christine Gerhardt argues that each author's poetry participates in this shift in different but related ways, and that their involvement with their culture’s growing environmental sensibilities constitutes an important connection between their disparate poetic projects. There may be few direct links between Dickinson’s “letter to the World” and Whitman’s “language experiment,” but via a web of environmentally-oriented discourses, their poetry engages in a cultural conversation about the natural world and the possibilities and limitations of writing about it—a conversation in which their thematic and formal choices meet on a surprising number of levels.