Poems for Human Flourishing

Try starting your day with optimism and hope; it engages the emotion and provides rhythm, metaphor and vivid language to speak directly to feelings. It gives usan emotional lift, energising and motivating us before we get on with our“to-do” list. A poem of hope and optimism reminds us that there is a space we can create to make reality our own. It gives a sense of purpose and growth potential beyond daily tasks. That sense of connection to something bigger than our current self or reality makes our daily challenges feel lighter. Like vitamins and supplements, regular feeding of our mind with optimism and hope builds mental resilience and equips us to better handle setbacks when they come our way. Like a warm cup of tea or ray of sunlight, it sets a gentle pace, forces us to pause, and breathe before the rush begins. Give the day a calm and centred start. Here are five poems from among my favourite poems for human flourishing.

The Winds of Fate

One ship drives east and another drives west

With the selfsame winds that blow.

Tis the set of the sails

And not the gales

Which tells us the way to go.

Like the winds of the seas are the ways of fate,

As we voyage along through life:

Tis the set of a soul

That decides its goal,

And not the calm or the strife.

This poem, written by Ella Wheeler Wilcox (1850–1919) and published in her Poems of Optimism, also appears in the 2015 anthology OnHuman Flourishing, edited by Moores, Pawelski, Potkay, Mason, Wolfson, and Engell.

Wilcox may not have been a sailor, but her keen insights into life and human behaviour is clear. We know the wind’s direction is beyond our control—its force, speed, and duration are determined by nature. Yet a skilled sailor adjusts the sails to harness the wind, whether it’s a helpful tailwind or a stubborn headwind.With proper technique, a sailor can make progress in almost any condition, even against the wind, by tacking or zigzagging.

The lesson goes beyond sailing:

·      Focus on what you can control.

·      Success often depends on adapting to challenges, not waiting for perfect conditions.

·      Skill and strategy matter more than luck or favourable circumstances.

In leadership, strategies grounded in reality outperform those that wait for ideal moments.
In personal growth, making the most of available resources is wiser than complaining about obstacles. Constraints, like adverse winds, can spark creative solutions.

A sailor who masters the art of sail-setting can go anywhere, regardless of the wind. Likewise, a resilient person can thrive in any situation.

Hope is the Thing with Feathers

“Hope” is the thing with feathers-

That perches in the soul -

And sings the tune without thewords -

And never stops - at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale - isheard -

And sore must be the storm -

That could abash the little Bird

That kept so many warm -

I’ve heard it in the chillest land-

And on the strangest Sea -

Yet - never - in Extremity,

It asked a crumb - of me.

EmilyDickinson, one of America’s greatest and most enigmatic poets, wrote this in the 1800s. In the poem, hope is personified as a bird and, more importantly, asa resilient and unwavering force in the face of life’s many trials and tribulations.

Hope soars above earthly limitations—like a bird in flight, it defies gravity and reaches new heights. Hope’s song does not need words or language; it is a never-ending melody, sweet and heartwarming, even in the harshest environments.Just as a bird’s song carries through the darkest night, hope’s constant presence reminds us that there is always a glimmer of light, even in the bleakest circumstances.

The last two lines intimate that hope asks for nothing in return. Like a bird that sings without expecting a crumb of reward, hope stays close to where we are, offering comfort when nothing else can.

Evening

Nothing but a silence like still mountains,

distilled from a day full of nothing but sun

and hard bustle. Trees, blooming like fountains

of calm, water the pavement with shade. On

every street, a mute choreography

of lamps shake off darkness, putting on light.

Nothing but stillness, and the whispered, shy

Conversation of leaves into the night.

Allow yourself this moment, this brief space

of hours. Taste evening in its difference,

its newness: the clean wash of a bright place;

isle of quiet. Thankful for the absence

of day, you take in skyline, the landscape

of relief, cool thoughts, feelings of escape.

Alvin Pang is a Singaporean poet, editor and writer.  His poem “Evening” is an invitation for us to take a breather at the end of the day and to allow ourselves a moment of respite from the bustle of the day. When we calm down and invoke silence, we can hear fresh sounds, like the shy conversation of leaves”. We can taste the freshness of the cool evening air. We can even see the “mute choreography” from the flicker of street lamps.

The day’s hard bustle contrasts with the evening’s quiet. Beauty lies not in grand events but in pause, in absence, in relief. The city, a metaphor of busyness and strife is transformed into a space of renewal.This is possible because we allow ourselves this moment, to be present, to feel gratitude and to savour transcience.

A Mound of Gold

Unobserved, happiness settles

over everything, like a gentle dust;

over the kneading of bread dough,

the peeling of carrots for stew,

over putting a saucer of milk down

for the cat, and running your hand

through the soft prickle

of your boy’s crew cut hair;

-    you take it in, like the scent of soap

on your husband’s fresh-shaved cheek;

like the dog’s extravagantly wagging tail,

or the kitten’s gravelly mew, and the lick

of his sand paper tongue.

If you wished, you could try qualifying it;

Gathering everything gently into a mound of gold,

Using gratitude like a soft-hair brush;

Then tipping it out of the tiny balance

and holding it (oh so carefully)

in the hollow of your palm

Singaporean poet and lawyer, Angeline Yap, published an anthology of poems in 2011 called “听 closing my eyes to listen”. The poem points to the unnoticed abundance of everyday life. Kneading bread”, peeling carrots, feeding the cat, the touch of a child’s hair – are simple daily gestures, elevated by the poet into moments of quiet contentment.

The sensory references such as “scent of soap on your husband’s fresh-shaved cheek,”the “dog’s extravagantly wagging tail,”the kitten’s “sand paper tongue”capture fleeting moments of intimacy and warmth, turning domestic life into a treasure trove of affection where love is lived rather than declared.

The act of tipping these simple treasured moments into the palm of one’s hand,  “oh so carefully,” suggests both fragility and sacredness: happiness is valuable, but it requires attentiveness to recognise and hold it.

The poem functions as an invitation: to pause, to breathe, to acknowledge the richness hidden in routine. As a reader, we can easily recognise these small acts, and are reminded that our own lives too contain “mounds of gold.”

On His Blindness

When I consider how my light is spent,

Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,

And that one Talent which is death to hide

Lodged with me useless, though my Soul more bent

To serve therewith my Maker, and present

My true account, lest he returning chide,

“DothGod exact day-labour, light denied?”

I fondly ask. But patience, to prevent

That murmur, soon replies, “God doth not need

Either man’s work or his own gifts; who best

Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state

Is Kingly: thousands at his bidding speed,

And post o’er land and ocean without rest;

They also serve who only stand and wait.”

One of England’s greatest poets, John Milton, best known for his poem, “ParadiseLost”, went completely blind around 1652 when he was in his early forties. The sonnet is a reflection on his blindness. He speaks of his “light” being spent, a metaphor for both eyesight and life’s energy, and describes his blindness asa “talent” lodged with, now useless. Though seemingly despondent, the poem ends with a reassuring thought - that God does not require our unceasing labour.

There is value to him, too, of those who “stand and wait”. John Milton’s blindness, rather than crippling him, has become a source of his poetic strength. It sharpened his inward vision and deepened his spirituality. Instead of dwelling on despair, he transformed blindness into an opportunity for insight. He reinterprets his condition not as punishment but as a call to patient service, a shift from frustration to acceptance, and an understanding that weakness can become strength. He reminds us to “be” and to focus on our “being”, rather than doing to prove our worth.

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