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
At the National Book Festival, in addition to snagging the awesome commemorative poster (which, seriously, I’m pretty excited about), I also got a copy of the Poetry Out Loud Anthology, a collection of poems high schoolers can memorize for the National Recitation Contest. Among a lot of familiar classics, here’s one I hadn’t seen before: How I Discovered Poetry by Marilyn Nelson It was like soul-kissing, the way the words filled my mouth as Mrs. Purdy read from her desk. All the other kids zoned an hour ahead to 3:15, but Mrs. Purdy and I wandered lonely...
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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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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...Cute Kid of the Day + More Poetry
So I’m back from vacation, and it was fun even though the weather was not particularly cooperative (by which I mean it rained for four straight days. Fact: there is nothing to do in Cape Cod when it is raining). Anyway, welcome back, me. Thanks to Poplicola for posting the great Edna St. Vincent Millay poem and keeping the V&V poetry tradition alive this week. Today I have some bonus poetry, courtesy of this freaking adorable video of a three year old kid reciting the Billy Collins poem “Litany” that I posted here a few weeks back....
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Lady Blaga is away this week on an likely much-deserved vacation, so I’m bringing you the poem of the week in her stead. Here we have Edna St. Vincent Millay, who was probably the coolest poet this side of Oscar Wilde. Here is one of my favorites of hers. Afternoon on a Hill I WILL be the gladdest thing Under the sun! I will touch a hundred flowers And not pick one. I will look at cliffs and clouds With quiet eyes, Watch the wind bow down the grass, And the grass rise. And when lights begin...
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On Saturday, I’m leaving for vacation! On the beach! I’m rather excited. In this week’s poem, Ogden Nash celebrates the joys of doing nothing. On the beach. Thanks to my friend K., who introduced me to this very pleasant piece. Pretty Halcyon Days by Ogden Nash How pleasant to sit on the beach, On the beach, on the sand, in the sun, With ocean galore within reach, And nothing at all to be done! No letters to answer, No bills to be burned, No work to be shirked, No cash to be earned, It is pleasant to...
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Have you ever before encountered a poem with a camel in it? I hadn’t. Man and Camel by Mark Strand On the eve of my fortieth birthday I sat on the porch having a smoke when out of the blue a man and a camel happened by. Neither uttered a sound at first, but as they drifted up the street and out of town the two of them began to sing. Yet what they sang is still a mystery to me— the words were indistinct and the tune too ornamental to recall. Into the desert they went...
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One of my all-time favorites. The Summer Day by Mary Oliver Who made the world? Who made the swan, and the black bear? Who made the grasshopper? This grasshopper, I mean– the one who has flung herself out of the grass, the one who is eating sugar out of my hand, who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down– who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes. Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face. Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away. I don\’t know...
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Billy Collins is one of my very favorite poets. His writing is accessible and readable, and I appreciate those things, along with his wit and good humor and insight. Litany by Billy Collins You are the bread and the knife, The crystal goblet and the wine . . . Jacques Crickillon You are the bread and the knife, the crystal goblet and the wine. You are the dew on the morning grass and the burning wheel of the sun. You are the white apron of the baker and the marsh birds suddenly in flight. However, you are...
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