Poetry: Writing

Writ­ing –Howard Nemerov From The Col­lect­ed Poems of Howard Nemerov The cur­sive crawl, the squared-off char­ac­ters these by them­selves delight, even with­out a mean­ing, in a for­eign lan­guage, in Chi­nese, for instance, or when skaters curve all day across the…

Poetry: Solitude

I did­n’t know the ori­gin of “laugh and the world laughs with you” ’til I saw this poem in my inbox today. I don’t share Wilcox’s beliefs, but it’s a fair­ly good poem. Soli­tude by Ella Wheel­er Wilcox (1850–1919) Laugh, and…

Poetry: Love Poem

Love Poem –Lin­da Pas­tan From The Imper­fect Par­adise I want to write you a love poem as head­long as our creek after thaw when we stand on its dan­ger­ous banks and watch it car­ry with it every twig every dry leaf and branch in its path every…

Poetry: My Son

My Son –Susan Catal­do From drenched: select­ed poems of Susan Catal­do 1979–1999 I love this messy room you live in The plants you care for The nick­els & dimes & pen­nies you pile Up on your desk like no-good mon­ey The Amaz­ing Spiderman…

Poetry: Winter Song

Winter Song –Aaron Kramer From Wicked Times      Under a wil­low      close by a brook      her lap for a pil­low      her eyes for a book      she like a drum­mer      prac­ticed her art      all spring and all sum­mer-      the drum was my heart. Hear how the…

Poetry: What’s in My Journal

What’s in My Jour­nal –William Stafford From Cross­ing Unmarked Snow: Fur­ther Views on the Writer’s Voca­tion Odd things, like a but­ton draw­er. Mean Things, fish­hooks, barbs in your hand. But mar­bles too. A genius for being agree­able. Junk­yard cru­ci­fix­es, volup­tuous dis­cards. Space…

Poetry: A New Constellation

Ganked with­out shame from slow_poke_poly A New Con­stel­la­tion –Marge Pier­cy We go inter­twined, him and you and me, her and him, you and her, each the cen­ter of our own cir­cle of attrac­tion and com­pul­sion and grav­i­ty. What a con­stel­la­tion we make:…

Poetry: Happiness

Happi­ness –Jane Keny­on From Oth­er­wise New & Select­ed Poems There’s just no account­ing for hap­pi­ness, or the way it turns up like a prodi­gal who comes back to the dust at your feet hav­ing squan­dered a for­tune far away. And how can you…

Poetry: Yes

Yes by William Stafford From The Way It Is: New and Select­ed Poems It could hap­pen any time, tor­na­do, earth­quake, Armaged­don. It could hap­pen. Or sun­shine, love, sal­va­tion. It could you know. That’s why we wake and look out–no guar­an­tees in this life.…

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