Poem of the day: under the moon

Alone and drinking under the moon By Li Po

Amongst the flowers I
am alone with my pot of wine
drinking by myself; then lifting
my cup I asked the moon
to drink with me, its reflection
and mine in the wine cup, just
the three of us; then I sigh
for the moon cannot drink,

and my shadow goes emptily along
with me never saying a word;
with no other friends here, I can
but use these two for company;
in the time of happiness, I
too must be happy with all
around me; I sit and sing
and it is as if the moon

accompanies me; then if I
dance, it is my shadow that
dances along with me; while
still not drunk, I am glad
to make the moon and my shadow
into friends, but then when
I have drunk too much, we
all part; yet these are

friends I can always count on
these who have no emotion
whatsoever; I hope that one day
we three will meet again,
deep in the Milky Way.

Poem of the day: Time enough

Time enough By Ella Wheeler Wilcox

	
I know it is early morning,
And hope is calling aloud,
And your heart is afire with Youth's desire
To hurry along with the crowd.
But linger a bit by the roadside,
And lend a hand by the way,
'Tis a curious fact that a generous act
Brings leisure and luck to a day.

I know it is only the noontime --
There is chance enough to be kind;
But the hours run fast when noon has passed,
And the shadows are close behind.
So think while the light is shining,
And act ere the set of the sun,
For the sorriest woe that a soul can know
Is to think what it might have done.

I know it is almost evening,
But the twilight hour is long.
If you listen and heed each cry of need
You can right full many a wrong.
For when we have finished the journey
We will all look back and say:
'On life's long mile there was nothing worth while
But the good we did by the way.'

Poem of the day: An objection

An objection to being stepped on By Robert Frost

At the end of the row
I stepped on the toe
Of an unemployed hoe.
It rose in offense
And struck me a blow
In the seat of my sense.
It wasn't to blame
But I called it a name.
And I must say it dealt
Me a blow that I felt
Like a malice prepense.
You may call me a fool,
But was there a rule
The weapon should be
Turned into a tool?
And what do we see?
The first tool I step on
Turned into a weapon.

Bad vibes, bad energy stay far away

Hi Clovers, it’s another week to be excited about!

If you don’t think there is anything to be excited about, take a step back and look at one thing you’re grateful for or what makes you happy.

Stay away from negativity

You should certainly not allow bad vibes around you. Avoid them and have the mindset that those goals you have will work out eventually (of course you have work for it).

You certainly do not need or want negativity growing close to you. No bad vibes as I said before.

So start this week smiling and with faith that it’s all going to be a good one as you work to achieve your goals.

Keep pushing Clovers, we’ll get to the top.

Have an amazing week ahead!

Poem of the day: Colour

Colour By Tina Chang

Up ahead it’s white. Snow animal,
I’m running at your back. I’ve failed to tell you
I’ve been hungry all this time, to tell you
I’ve been searching for you, like meat,
like water. All my life, I’ve distanced
myself. As if to know you was to drown.
As if to find you I’d usher myself further
from what is real. I’ve been adrift along
the threads of white leading me out
beyond an imagined frame. I’ve untied myself,
uncuffed the arms and neck. I didn’t know
I was hurt like that. I didn’t know
there was a force pulling me downward
toward a bedrock, lulling me to sleep.
You are the one escaping, you are the one
breaking free. I understand your astonishing
dash to freedom, done with the estranged wind,
done with frost and storm, orchids curling
outward beyond grief. The road widens
to glory. The road disappears

Poem of the day: Saturday’s child

SATURDAY’S CHILD BY COUNTEE CULLEN

Some are teethed on a silver spoon,
With the stars strung for a rattle;
I cut my teeth as the black raccoon—
For implements of battle.

Some are swaddled in silk and down,
And heralded by a star;
They swathed my limbs in a sackcloth gown
On a night that was black as tar.

For some, godfather and goddame
The opulent fairies be;
Dame Poverty gave me my name,
And Pain godfathered me.

For I was born on Saturday—
"Bad time for planting a seed,"
Was all my father had to say,
And, "One mouth more to feed."

Death cut the strings that gave me life,
And handed me to Sorrow,
The only kind of middle wife
My folks could beg or borrow.

Poem of the day: Alone

ALONE 
By Maya Angelou

Lying, thinking
Last night
How to find my soul a home
Where water is not thirsty
And bread loaf is not stone
I came up with one thing
And I don't believe I'm wrong
That nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

There are some millionaires
With money they can't use
Their wives run round like banshees
Their children sing the blues
They've got expensive doctors
To cure their hearts of stone.
But nobody
No, nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Now if you listen closely
I'll tell you what I know
Storm clouds are gathering
The wind is gonna blow
The race of man is suffering
And I can hear the moan,
'Cause nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Poem of the week: The farm house by the river

The farm house by the river By Paul Laurence Dunbar

I know a little country place
Where still my heart doth linger,
And o'er its fields is every grace
Lined out by memory's finger.
Back from the lane where poplar grew
And aspens quake and quiver,
There stands all bath'd in summer's glow
A farm house by the river.

Its eaves are touched with golden light
So sweetly, softly shining,
And morning-glories full and bright
About the doors are twining.
And there endowed with every grace
That nature's hand could give her,
There lived the angel of the place
In the farm house by the river.

Her eyes were blue, her hair was gold,
Her face was bright and sunny;
The songs that from her bosom rolled
Were sweet as summer's honey.
And I loved her well, that maid divine,
And I prayed the Gracious Giver,
That I some day might call her mine
In the farm house by the river.

'Twas not to be—but God knows best,
His will for aye be heed!
Perhaps amid the angels blest,
My little love was needed.
Her spirit from its thralldom torn
Went singing o'er the river,
And that sweet life my heart shall mourn
Forever and forever.

She died one morn at early light
When all the birds are singing,
And heaven itself in pure delight
Its bells of joy seemed ringing.
They laid her dust where soon and late
The solemn grasses quiver,
And left alone and disolate
The farm house by the river.

Poem of the day: As I grew older

AS I GREW OLDER BY Langston Hughes

It was a long time ago.
I have almost forgotten my dream.
But it was there then,
In front of me,
Bright like a sun—
My dream.
And then the wall rose,
Rose slowly,
Slowly,
Between me and my dream.
Rose until it touched the sky—
The wall.
Shadow.
I am black.
I lie down in the shadow.
No longer the light of my dream before me,
Above me.
Only the thick wall.
Only the shadow.
My hands!
My dark hands!
Break through the wall!
Find my dream!
Help me to shatter this darkness,
To smash this night,
To break this shadow
Into a thousand lights of sun,
Into a thousand whirling dreams
Of sun!

Quote of the week: Drop the unnecessary baggage if you want to go far

Hello Clovers!! I hope you have been gaining a thing or two so far from the usual Monday posts? If not, hang in there with me for a little while.

Feeling a little anxious?

Don’t be! Today I just want to talk about how we often let anxiety take control of our actions. It’s mundane to often feel a little anxious in some situations, when about to experience something new or when looking forward to something also.

Sometimes these emotions creep in farther than we expect and starts to act up. What I am saying is to learn how to control your emotions, your feelings. Don’t let them control you.

Anxiety and fear often come together. Once one is present, the other is likely to show. All it does is make you cower and hide. It makes you avoid the path of good things and progress. Tell yourself you choose not to be a coward and you will move forward. The best response to such feelings is usually action.

Anxiety surely doesn’t get you far. You may be getting used to the feeling but at the end you may just be stuck at the same place.

Anxiety’s like a rocking chair. It gives you something to do, but it doesn’t get you very far.

Jodi Picoult

Remember, our goal for this year Clovers?

It’s progress! To be the better version of ourselves. To become the person our younger selves would be proud of!

Yes, we are going to get better together. But not before you drop those extra baggage weighing you down. Yes, I’m talking about the insecurities, the fears, the worries, the anxiety. Drop them all. They are unnecessary. Besides you need to be lighter to soar.

See you all at the top!

Cheers to the week ahead.

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