The Rain by Robert Creeley All night the sound had come back again, and again falls this quiet, persistent rain. What am I to myself that must be remembered, insisted upon so often? Is it that never the ease, even the hardness, of rain falling will have for me something other than this, something not so insistent— am I to be locked in this final uneasiness. Love, if you love me, lie next to me. Be for me, like rain, the getting out of the tiredness, the fatuousness, the semi- lust of intentional indifference. Be wet with...
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Poem of the Week
It’s a gorgeous afternoon in the Midwest, sunny and breezy with that autumn something in the air. Here’s a poem. Autumn Begins in Martins Ferry, Ohio by James Wright In the Shreve High football stadium, I think of Polacks nursing long beers in Tiltonsville, And gray faces of Negroes in the blast furnace at Benwood, And the ruptured night watchman of Wheeling Steel, Dreaming of heroes. All the proud fathers are ashamed to go home, Their women cluck like starved pullets, Dying for love. Therefore, Their sons grow suicidally beautiful At the beginning of October, And gallop...
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Part II of last week’s theme: villanelles. I’ve read and re-read this poem in at least three different English classes, and haven’t yet tired of it– to the contrary, I find more to like each time. And it seems apropos in the whirlwind of unpacking to post a poem dedicated to the fine art of losing things. One Art by Elizabeth Bishop The art of losing isn’t hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster. Lose something every day. Accept the fluster of lost...
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Most of the poems I\’ve posted here so far have been free verse– my usual preferred mode for both reading and writing poetry. But this is one of the best examples I\’ve seen of the complicated villanelle form: a 19 line poem consisting of five three-line stanzas followed by a concluding four-line stanza. Villanelles feature an ABA rhyme scheme, as well as two lines that repeat throughout, alternating as the last line of each stanza. Got that? Complex structure aside, it\’s a beautiful poem, the last stanza of which makes for a good mantra. Thanks to my...
Continue reading...Poem of the Week: Child at Heart Edition
I’ve been suffering from some vague anonymous illness for the past week and a half, which is no fun. Unlike this poem’s protagonist, I’ve not been playing hooky, though on the plus side, it’s been very quiet in my office this week. In honor of mystery sicknesses, here’s one of my childhood favorite poems, which as I recall I memorized for a contest in middle school. Sick by Shel Silverstein ‘I cannot go to school today, ‘ Said little Peggy Ann McKay. ‘I have the measles and the mumps, A gash, a rash and purple bumps. My...
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I first discovered this poem freshman year of college in a Comparative Studies class that sometimes met outside (it was spring quarter). I loved that we would go outside, and that otherwise we would all sit around a huge table instead of at desks, but the class itself was only so-so. Still, thank you to the professor whose name I don’t remember for introducing me to Rita Dove. This poem is from Dove’s collection Grace Notes. And it definitely makes me yearn for tree-climbing days of yore. HORSE AND TREE by Rita Dove Everybody who’s anybody longs...
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I can’t believe it’s already the end of May. Or that it’s almost 90 degrees here in DC. Anyway, despite the August-like-heat, it’s peak wedding season: I went to one last weekend and am going another this weekend, and pretty much everyone I know seems to be attending weddings as well. Yay for newlyweds! And hideous bridesmaids’ dresses! And personalized napkins! And sentimental speeches! And, you know, love and all that. So for this week’s dose of poetry, I picked out this sweet one by former US Poet Laureate Ted Kooser. It appears in his 2008 collection...
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