The summer heat of Monday  disappeared
The brightness of the sky  filled me with love
Winter is still closer than we feared

Now in  the gale  the trees of birds are cleared
Grey rain clouds  will  congregateI above
The summer heat of Monday  disappeared

In a winter storm, I am not scared
I watch the channel  of the soothing dove
Winter is still closer than we feared

I’m lonely, sitting restless in the chair
Even death can feel like a rebuff
The  ardent heat of Monday  disappeared

The trees are calmer now, as if they care.
I feel  I ‘ve  lived with anguish long enough
Darkness is still closer than we feared

The tress are sacred standing in the  grove
A second is   eternal in rheir love
The summer heat of Monday  disappeared
Winter is much closer than we feared

http://www.artsreformation.com/a001/dr-rightwords.html

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Poetry and Prose: Choosing the Right Words © 1997 by Dorothy E. Robbins A good vocabulary, gained through reading good poetry and prose, enhances poetic expression This is a poetry column. Why would one discussing how to write good poetry encourage the readers to read good prose? Of course, we know that prose and poetry are closely related and parts of the language of every nation; both are means of communicating ideas and, obviously, one uses the same words for both. The conclusion is, therefore, that a well-read person has a larger vocabulary than one who reads little. This is not just a great asset, it is essential if one wants to write either prose or poetry and write it well. We want to see today how reading good prose helps one write good poetry – as well as discover through this how these two differ – as they very definitely do.If one has a large vocabulary, one can pick and choose to find just the right word. And choosing the right word can make a difference in several ways. For example, which word would you choose if you were creating a poem using one of the following lines? “Cry when I’m gone.” “Weep when I’m gone.” Perhaps you would say that the word “weep” has a softer, more sympathetic sound. You might also realize that the alliteration between “weep” and “when” is pleasing to the ear and heart. Now, listen to the remainder of the poem and think how different it would have sounded if the word “cry” had been used. Note, also, other uses of alliteration that help to emphasize the ideas and lead one to the conclusion and climax at the end of the verse. Weep, when I’m gone, if you must, But know it is true, if you trust, I’ll only be gone for a day; And soon you’ll be going that way.

In the gusts of wind  small children dance
The leaves, though  brown,seem lively as they’re  blown
These ancient leaves seem merry as they prance.

Falling down  and bouncing , happy chance
It is an act more dangerous to the old
In the gusts of wind  our children dance

With  such leaves, a cat may find  romance
They tickle him in places far too bold
The long  dead leaves seem merry as they prance.

This cat and I  now share  sardonic glance.
His eyes are golden with a hint of cold
In the gusts of wind , all children dance

Though we don”t worship God, what is the chance
That love itself   descended from  that throne?
The lusty leaves seem merry as they mince

Here I stand ,by sadness  overthrown
Till some human calls to  take me  home
Yet in this  gale, the children can’t but dance
Dynamic leaves  show  passion and entrance

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.

The darkness drops again but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

Give sorrow words,  to understand  this grief
All losses make a mighty river flow
Contribute   your vision to our need.

Your tears will raise from death the holy seeds
Your pain a  sacred catalyst  for growth
Give sorrow words,  to understand this grief

Nothing shall be wasted,not a leaf.
I know we’ll take and keep a sacred oath
Contribute   your vision to our need.

The words when chosen bring  us to relief
As a person lives so shall they sow.
Give your sorrow words,  to understand all grief

Inside our heads and guts, our feeling seethe
Love  is here yet all of us will die
Contribute   your vision to our need.

Nothing in this poetry’s a lie.
Every human soul will say,goodbye.
Give sorrow words,  to satisfy  your grief
Contribute   your visions to our needs.

http://www.amemorytree.co.nz/message_library.php

• Tears water our growth. – Shakespeare
• There are times when there are too few words left to heal us, when what we wish for is to be carried, when all we have left is the hope that tomorrow will be a more gentle place to land than today.
• If you’re going through hell, keep going. – Churchill
• Courage is being afraid but going on anyhow. – Dan Rather
• You can clutch the past so tightly to your chest that it leaves your arms too full to embrace the future. – Jan Glidewell
• Grief and sadness knits two hearts in closer bonds than happiness ever can and common sufferings are far stronger than common joys. – Alphonse de Lamartine
• Tearless grief bleeds inwardly. – Christian Bovee
• There is no grief like the grief that does not speak. – Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
• He that conceals his grief finds no remedy for it. – Turkish Proverb
• Tears are the silent language of grief. – Voltaire
• Grief makes one hour ten. – Shakespeare
• Bereavement unravels like a piece of cloth, the fabric of your life over time you will be able to reweave your piece of cloth, but the cloth will have a new pattern. – Unknown
• Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal.  – Irish Headstone
• Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak whispers the o’er-fraught heart and bids it break.  – Shakespeare
• Man, when he does not grieve, hardly exists – Antonio Porchia
• Sorrow makes us all children again – destroys all differences of intellect.  The wisest know nothing  – Ralph Waldo Emerson
• Time is a physician that heals every grief.  – Diphilus

https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/text/poetry-101-resources-beginners

A book has just come out_ called Stand Firm;resisting the self improvement craze by Svend Brinkmann

As someone said way back,if these books work why do people keep buying more of them?

My view is that you need to get to know  yourself before you try to change.I suppose one way is psychotherapy but there are others… just self observation like:

Why do I not like receiving compliments?
Why do I leave things till the last minute?
I have a suspicion that knowing yourself will change you  without any other actions.
The only valuable thing I have read is that we all suffer in life and  it becomes worse if you criticise yourself for not feeling better.We have sad or fearful  emotions for  good reasons.Even depression has a  value in slowing us down and letting us review our lives.

This music does caress my inner ear
Takes me to my childhood joy and love
How much beauty can a human bear?

The vision of the lighted candles here
A symbol  of the starlight far above
Beloved music will caress my inner ear

And God   does dwell in those who sense him near
But overlooked , he’s  but a clear grey dove
How much beauty can a human bear?

And see, God laughs to be revered
As she enjoys the flutter of my glove,
While music  does caress my inner ear!

The God who’s true does not depend on fear
But holds the soul as it  allows their love
How much beauty can a human bear?

God is here  and not at  one  remove.
And in his grace we each can gently bathe
This music shall caress my inner ear
How much beauty can a human bear?

Down grassy banks we rolled  for joy and fun
Like children playing out   in freer times
Then back to being adults we would come

We wrote each other letters filled with puns.
We wrote the letters often, with good rhymes.
Down grassy banks we rolled  for joy and fun

The bills and the housekeeping we would shun
Though now and then we’d wash away the grime
So back to being adults we would come

He fed a  robin daily and it ran
Inside the house when he had passed his time
Those grassy banks ,oh, happiness and fun

When  he grew older and his time was gone
I sat nearby and struggled with my  poems
I had to be an adult by design

Don’t count the cost nor allocate the blame.
Don’t feel  the guilt neither   the heat of shame
Down grassy banks enjoy   the ancient fun
But  come back as an adult  till we’re done.