Genuine well being for ourselves and the planet

Happiness Poems

On this page, I’ll post all the happiness poems people submit.  I’ll post them in alphabetical order by poet’s last name.  Thanks in advance for your thoughtfulness and willingness to play along!

Anonymous, Montpelier, Vermont

It is easy to

forget how the mountains rise and

sing against the sky
Jeannette Cabinis-Brewin, Tuckasegee, North Carolina

Snowday Quartet

i.   A river

of air flows

above the river. As sky

lives on the surface of water

another life, so the life of water

reflects in frozen air, streaming.

When the river ducks her head

beneath the bridge, her airy sister

leaps lightly over, invisible except

that she bears the snow, strewing

whitewater blackice

across my path.

ii.  wild carrots tatting

a winter crop of lace for their Queen

each brittle brown chalice fills with it

and with a peace

undisturbed by the commerce of bees.

iii.  on each blackiced twig

snow piles to a certain depth


then wisely falls,

letting go of what can-

not in safety be borne,

feeling the relief of


iv.  see us  fading back to no-color,

to sepiatone, to black

and white images,

a wonderful life.

we do less

and what we do—chop wood, light

fire, heat water—is briefly


Published in Appalachian Heritage, Winter 2004


String Theory

One day while zooming air-cooled

from walmart to subdivision

with plasticized fish from the Arctic,

Juan, I saw you walking

the shoulder not a sidewalk

waste land not for walkers

uphill in august heat

looking hot and satisfied

with a big trout on a string

shining like church candlelight,

food for the family at the trailerpark

two miles out from town.

You carried back into my heart

the river, slipping under the highway

half seen half screened

by concrete and treetops. Seeing you



from Tuckaseigee to housetrailer

with a fish on a string

our parallel worlds collided

and yours made sense.

The sense it makes is not

the sense of place that should

be mine. It’s yours: You

in this strange green country,

without a car

without a green card

without a fishing license

and so in possession

of a summer day

a cool living river

a long walk uphill

waiting hungry children

a shining fish

a satisfied heart.

Published in The Atlanta Review, Fall 2005

Ken Crawbuck, Friday Harbor, Washington


Hearing laughter and
light happy conversation
Joyous free movements
Breaking the morning stillness
in the town center
The smells of croissants,
bubbling mash
in the local brewery and
coffee roasting
as I pass through the well tended landscape
On a sunny day.
Reflecting on
Healthy tax paying citizens
As a priority.
The value of achieving:
fewer major illnesses
and hospital and emergency room visits
less obesity, malnutrition,
homelessness, violence,
more sustainable wage jobs,
better education,
and a healthier environment.
We can develop a sense of harmony and well-being;
Voting for Gross National Happiness is not magic.



gulpfuls of cool

clean, pure


Feeling it flowing

down and

settling; soothing

me inside.

The sense of

good radiating

throughout me;



Keith Curtis, Herndon, Virginia

Under The Cherry

Sitting under the cherry tree
Watching the petals fall
In the gusting and calming breezes
I try to catch them,
Standing from my reading and grasping at the air
But the effort itself creates its own defeat
Since the hand builds a windstream.
Resigned once, I sit and watch while reading
The stronger winds enticing me again swirl about me,
Whipping in curls and circles a blossom storm:
“Being so in the clustering thick of things,
Rapt and enwrapped in the rising and falling real world”
Upon these words the petals fall.
Only when again I give up the chase, the wind dies to a drift
And I concentrate instead on the world of thought,
Teasing me back to the substance around me,
I see the bees flit about the blossoms.
Being choosey
I make the petals bookmarks
Which in short order turn a deeper pink,
Being even more beautiful in their fading lifelessness.
“Beauty comes easiest to the one who waits”,
The robin proclaims
Sitting now atop the cheery
Exclaiming the white and pink
With song in red,
Splitting in its separate parts,
So as the wind shifts into my face
The pedals beat upon my breast
And fall into my lap,
Punctuating Annie’s words;
“I cannot ask for more than to be so wholly acted upon,
Flown at, and lighted on in throngs”
Until one solitary pedal,
Wanting to be a fellow traveler,
As if appreciating my companionship,
Lights against my shoulder
And slides into my pocket.
Irv Eisenberg, Montpelier
Stretched out Waiting
cloud takes its passing leave
a Moment of sun
Wendy Farber, Vermont
Happiness is being so glad the toilet flushes all the way again,
That there’s laughter around the dinner table almost nightly, (even though not so much at the breakfast table).
Happiness is being able to improvise with all the ingredients one has at hand,
knowing that magic happens when the mind is challenged to be creative.

Ginny Sassaman, Maple Corner, Vermont

Three Haikus:

Pink # 1

Pink is not grown up.

Seriously? A color?  Who says?

Pink makes me happy.

Pink # 2

Fuzzy pink pom poms.

No particular purpose,

Save ticklish pleasure.

Happy Place

Piles of thick blankets

Luxuriously muffling

Frigid winter’s breath.


His esteemed


deeply loved

deeply loved


had suddenly died.

Hugs, hugs.

All I could give.



Hugs, hugs.

The gift I received.


Comments on: "Happiness Poems" (3)

  1. A Sonnet To The Winter Moon

    The winter months begin with this clear night.
    November’s full moon radiates the sky
    And touches rim to mountain rim with light
    Through shadowed branches, followed by my eye
    Awakened in its glow. That silent call
    Of moonlit forests, ancient to one’s heart
    As, too, it is on earth, comes over all
    And with its power filled, I stand apart
    From daily human life’s most turbid snares.
    This moment turns all thinking towards the Mind
    Of light within, and leaves one’s spirit bare
    As these now leafless trees with light enshrined.

    By wisdom purified of all that’s done,
    I am with winter moonlight now made one.

    Isabella Fiske McFarlin
    written in about 1987

  2. Thank you, Isabella, for this lovely addition to the happiness poems collection.

  3. I’m glad you liked it! Most of my poems are about some form of happiness — transcendence mingled with nature, etc. Thanks very much.

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