By John M. Ford The worm drives helically through the wood And does not know the dust left in the bore Once made the table integral and good; And suddenly the crystal hits the floor. Electrons find their paths in subtle ways, A massless eddy in a trail of smoke; The names of lovers, light of other days; Perhaps you will not miss […]
NaPoWriMo
This is so cool. To honor National Poetry Month, there’s National Poetry Writing Month, which is providing daily poetry writing prompts for April. I immediately thought of Hope Evey. Because of this marvelous thing I’m seeing a poem a day from another lovely lady.
NaBloPoMo April: Poem
So this month’s blogging theme is “Poem.” Not poetry, but “Poem.” 1 It’s in honor of National Poetry Month. It’s been a few years since I wrote any poetry, so to honor the theme I’ll point you to poetry I’ve shared elsewhere on this site from a favorite author, Madeleine L’Engle. 1 You can tell […]
Poetry: Jane Kenyon
The Blue Bowl by Jane Kenyon Like primitives we buried the cat with his bowl. Bare-handed we scraped sand and gravel back into the hole. They fell with a hiss and thud on his side, on his long red fur, the white feathers between his toes, and his long, not to say aquiline, nose. We stood and brushed each other off. There […]
Poetry Question
In honor of National Poetry Month, the Academy of American Poets has been sending out a poem a day via email to subscribers. I’m enjoying them, but one of them just… Have you ever found the form of a poem to be so weird that it gets into the way of the meaning? I’m finding that […]
Poetry: Edna St. Vincent Millay
I wanted to do something different for today’s Thing-a-Day, and I signed up to be part of Live Readings a while back but hadn’t recorded anything yet, so I’m posting this is both (all three?) places. “What Lips My Lips Have Kissed, and Where, and Why (Sonnet XLIII)” by Edna St. Vincent Millay What lips my […]
Poetry: Michael Blumenthal
For my Sam A Marriage You are holding up a ceiling with both arms. It is very heavy, but you must hold it up, or else it will fall down on you. Your arms are tired, terribly tired, and, as the day goes on, it feels as if either your arms or the ceiling will soon collapse. But then, unexpectedly, something […]
Poetry: Robert Frost
The Armful For every parcel I stoop down to seize I lose some other off my arms and knees, And the whole pile is slipping, bottles, buns, Extremes too hard to comprehend at once. Yet nothing I should care to leave behind. With all I have to hold with hand and mind And heart, if need be, I will do […]