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Jennifer Nightingale Poem
They promised me, with a single mouse click,
Quotes that will change my life forever
I asked myself; how do they measure change?
Do they know my baseline?
How do you measure forever?
Over the years, I have recorded words
That resonated with my ideals and credited the author
I turned them into epigrams and meditated upon them
Committed them to memory in case I was sent to prison
With no books to read
In those moments, I felt understood,
But, I never felt changed.
No quote ever gave me
A road to Damascus epiphany
Jesus gave us beautiful beatitudes
Stretch goals that seem unnatural
He said, blessed are the meek
I argued, “they will be mowed down”
I heard him say,”Blessed are those that hunger and thirst after righteousness.”
I thought of Navalny and responded
They will be locked away in Siberia.
Starved, frozen and forgotten.
Mother Teresa said, “Do not worry about why problems exist in the world– just respond to people’s needs.”
My mother didn’t say it. She lived it. I witnessed it. My mother got to me first.
“Thank you, Mother Teresa”, I will agree. I saw the fruits of her caring.
George Bernard Shaw said, “Progress is impossible without change, and those who cannot change their minds cannot change anything.”
I answered, “Mr. Shaw, you assume that change is good regardless. I have experienced that this not so”
There was a time that Bruce Lee lived in the same city as I did.
We smelled the same salt air and the caramelized soya sauce blowing out of café exhaust fans.
His image was painted on a wall in China Town. Bruce Lee said, “I’m not in this world to live up to your expectations and you’re not in this world to live up to mine.”
I’m thinking that this is easy for him to say. He has no idea what I expect of him. He expects nothing of me
Because I do not exist for him but he certainly does for me..
I thought I shouldn’t argue with each and every quote,
Perhaps I should just drink them in and see what happens
I read all one hundred quotes that promised to change me,
Change me forever.
I ended with the wisdom of Oscar Wilde,
"Some things are too important to be taken seriously."
On this, I will agree.
Yet I don’t see that it changes me
Now or forever.
Copyright © Jennifer Nightingale | Year Posted 2025
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Details |
Jennifer Nightingale Poem
Pull back the covers and experience,
Just how fresh and crisp it is inside,
Discover a poet who once lived among us,
And built community,
Out of encouragement, fun and wondering
Like you, he pondered the mysteries of foreign flagged ships,
That leaked rust out of every orifice.
Listened intently to “The Ship Report” on KMUN Radio
Wondered about the crew stuck on these smoking hulks.
Who are they? Where did they come from and where will they go?
Between the covers, you will also find a poet so shy and self-effacing,
That he always wrote in long hand
And never jumped aboard the electronic train
Yet he wrote year after year,
Because he wanted to share himself with you.
There is always our river and the whole wide watershed.
All the creatures that live in her and in her shadows:
There are Woolly bears and the sun shining on a Jay,
Turning his wings and tail iridescent.
There are salmon, sea lions and pelicans all there between the covers.
Some of the covers are decades old,
But once inside, you are dazzled by the freshness of the voices.
Voices both familiar and strange,
Of people that couldn’t stop writing
Until their work gained the sheen of mastery.
Just as you might expect,
There are love poems of all sorts,
Hiding under the covers
Did you know that the Astoria Megler Bridge
Was once a grand conduit to a waiting heart?
There are many who appear only once,
Yet their work is still intimate and bold,
Deserving a pride of place,
Among the prolific and the stalwart
Because they found courage to claim a space
Poets praise elderberries of all colors
Among light, death, bees, and Rene Descartes
Wicked storms, flora, fauna, requiems, and musings.
But keep their distance from the poet doctor who used razor sharp knives.
Their contributions will be scanned and archived and available just the same.
Rain is hiding in plain sight in the collective bookshelves,
Of our homes and gathering places in all the communities
Of the Lower Columbia Pacific and the North Coast Oregon
Southwest Washington State
To be rediscovered in perpetuity.
Pull back the covers, dive in
And experience the Rain!
Copyright © Jennifer Nightingale | Year Posted 2025
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