Happiness –Michael Van Walleghen Weep for what little things could make them glad. –Robert Frost, Directive Melvin, the large collie who lives in the red house at the end of my daily run is happy, happy to see me even…
Poetry: Philosophy in Warm Weather
Philosophy in Warm Weather –Jane Kenyon Now all the doors and windows are open, and we move so easily through the rooms. Cats roll on the sunny rugs, and a clumsy wasp climbs the pane, pausing to rub a leg…
Marvelous Poetry
I do believe that John Isbell has become my favorite contemporary poet. I’m not posting his latest here—I think you should go read them and his others. They’re wonderful.
For Sambear: The Sun Has Burst the Sky
The Sun Has Burst the Sky –Jenny Joseph The sun has burst the sky Because I love you And the river its banks. The sea laps the great rocks Because I love you And takes no heed of the moon…
Poetry for your Thursday: Rearview Mirror
Rearview Mirror –Robert Morgan This little pool in the air is not a spring but sink into which trees and highway, bank and fields are sipped away to minuteness. All split on the present then merge in stretched perspective, radiant…
And More Poetry: Water On The Lens
Water On The Lens –John Isbell There is water on the lens. There is dust in the gears. There is snow on the screen. There is noise on the line. Whenever we push THIS button, We get THIS junk. We…
Poetry: Metamorphosis
Metamorphosis –May Sarton Always it happens when we are not there– The tree leaps up alive into the air, Small open parasols of Chinese green Wave on each twig. But who has ever seen The latch sprung, the bud as…
Poetry Fix
Both brought to you courtesy of osp_feed. Waterfront Café By John Isbell I sat at the waterfront café. The stone bridge’s near side was rooted in the soil, While the other disappeared into infinity. I saw a bird fly across…
Poetry: The First Fruit Salad
Have I mentioned how much I love having good poetry just appear in my email and LJ feeds each day? It is soul-sustaining. The First Fruit Salad by Joanne Limburg from femenismo One June night she left her husband sleeping…
Sunday Poetry Fix
The Day I Walked To Acapulco By John Isbell I set out just before dawn, After much consulting of maps and trigonometry. My first step took me to Tulsa. It was 10 a.m., and people were going about their business.…