Fall Parties (Becca Klaver)

I adore a good fall party, so I assumed that this poem by Becca Klaver would be right up my alley.

And it's fine, I mean, yeah, but I'm just not excited by it. Despite the couplets, I don't find much thrill in this poem's language. What a bunch of boring nouns and verbs.

 And really, isn't the real point not that she loves fall parties more than summer ones, but that she loves the present more than the past? I get a 'grass is always greener' vibe from the poem.

But then again, maybe my problem with the poem simply has to do with the silliness of comparing the seasons of parties. Dunno.

Favorite line: "I'll warm your house."

forgetting something (Nick Flynn)

forgetting something by Nick Flynn.

I love the format of this poem. It's a prose poem with line breaks. So neat! To see the fissures in the whole. Neat, neat, neat.

The poem itself - well, in the middle I get confused - it seems muddled. Maybe that is the forgetting. The ends though, are sharp. For instance, I adore the concluding line:

Favorite line: "if we see each other again is to make / a cage of our bodies—inside we can place / whatever still shines."

You Can't Survive on Salt Water (Kalamu ya Salaam)

You Can't Survive on Salt Water by Kalamu ya Salaam.

I think this poem is kind of great. It's a political poem about a modern crisis (Katrina) done in an old form that tends to have Nature at its heart. Water is at the center of both the poem and the form. Every haiku has water in it. The poem as a whole is drowning in it. So's the City. Ooh, maybe the fact that there are 7 haiku reflects the 7 seas? Too far a reach? Perhaps, but it's still a cool poem and concept.

Favorite line: "rejecting wet people's funky stank"

It's obvious (Greg Hewett)

Wee, it's been some days since my last post. A mini-vacation, if you please. (I do.) But back now, so today's poem is by Greg Hewett.

This is the Frida Kahlo stamp that is referenced in the poem. I can see why it made him write a poem on beauty - this art is not very reminiscent of what I know of Frida Kahlo and her art. The blush and the large necklace seem off, since what I know of Frida Kahlo's art is of oddities and pain and harsh looks. This stamp does seem to be a glamorized version. It's her body, but not her soul.

Favorite line: "beauty is a postage stamp"

Cartoon Physics, part 1 (Nick Flynn)

Cartoon Physics, part 1 by Nick Flynn.

I just want to squeeze hug this poem. Real world physics is hard and frightening (the universe is just slowly spreading out into nothingness..... why?????), but cartoon physics? A balm of clearly defined rules. It's so sweet, the different examples he uses - how children play at being heroes, defining their own solutions to their self-defined problems. How, cartoon, childish physics work as long as you believe. As long as you refrain from looking down once you run off the cliff, as long as you keep your faith, your naivete, your childishness, you'll be fine.

Just, >HUG<

Favorite lime: "if you jump / you will be saved"

American Sonnet (35) (Wanda Coleman)

I read my first poem by Wanda Coleman the other day and liked it, so I thought I would try another. This one is another American Sonnet.

I like that you can easily get a sense of America out of the words - the jazz, the boogy, the cars, the blackness. Maybe it's set in more modern times, but I see the poem taking place in the 60s or 70s.

The beginning of the poem reminded me of Ralph Ellison's Invisible Man. A black woman moving like a ghost through society. How wonderful, that in the end, the woman of the poem has more corporeal complaints - her outrageous hair, her sagging skin. And yet, the last word of the poem, the last word, perhaps, for the woman in all versions of herself, is her blackness.  It would seem to be as intrinsic to her as the America-ness of the poem - unavoidable and defining.

Favorite line: "this umpteenth time she returns--this invisible woman"

November (William Cullen Bryant)

A few days in, but since this is my month (hey, birthday!), today's is the aptly title November by William Cullen Bryant.

This is an old fashioned poem - a sonnet by the book and the subject matter never swerves from its titled purpose. So it's kind of unexciting and I wish a different view had been given the month. A month of transition. Meh. Although, I did like the words about how November has some sun and warmth, some hope. However, it is, overall, a rather dull poem. And since November is one of my favorite months, I wish that were not emotion elicited.

Favorite line: "the russet lea"

American Sonnet (10) (Wanda Coleman)

American Sonnet (10) by Wanda Coleman.

It's both American in its subject and in that, as a sonnet, it does not rhyme. Slavery is, unfortunately, in America's blood and that injustice and that history should never, can never be put away. In this poem, slavery as history is everpresent and acts as a motivation to avenge and to want. Is that healthy? Who knows, but it does make for a gripping poem.

I love the way she uses language in this poem. Unique phrasing and images. It was such a good read. Though, I don't get the reference to Lowell. Anyone?

Favorite line: "our mothers wrung hell and hardtack from row and boll"

Bats (Paisley Rekdal)

Bats by Paisley Rekdal.

I missed writing a post yesterday, on Halloween. Today's is kind of holiday related - what with its dark themes of fear and bats and things that go bump in the night. I like that it is mostly about bats, but that in the end it encompasses anything you might fear. "Alseep, / you tear your fingers / and search the sheets all night." Things you fear are as ever present as to be in your bed and in your thoughts as you sleep. It's a terrifying thing to never be able to escape such terrors.

Bats don't scare me, but in this poem, they serve as a stand-in for whatever haunts your being. Creepy, creepy, creepy.

Favorite line: "the sound / we imagine empty wombs might make / in women who can't fill them up."

Like Him (Aaron Smith)

Like Him by Aaron Smith.

I am always a little in awe of narrative poems like this. Because even though I see it there on the page and hear it when as I read it aloud, I still marvel that this everyday speech about common emotions and relations can somehow be a poem.

I like how this poem talks about fathers/sons and maleness. There is such a current of anger tinged with sadness through it.

Favorite line: "like him, like men: / the meanest guy wins, don't ever apologize."

Chirality (Rae Armantrout)

I had to look up the meaning of the title of today's poem by Rae Armantrout (neat last name). It's a chemistry term meaning 'handedness' - like the symmetry observed between your right and left hand. A pairedness.

This poem, with its small stanzas, asks unanswerable questions. Perhaps, the chirality is between the question and its answer. You can ask an open ended question, but the answer may have nothing to do with the question.

Similar as to how your reflected right hand is not your right hand - the mirror, instead, shows a different image - your left hand -- a question with chirality is one that leads on and on to new topics and answers and doesn't really seem related to the original question at all. Perhaps, poetry is often like this too. When writing a poem, you often end up in a place you didn't expect at all.

Favorite line: "If I didn't need / to do anything, / would I?"

Light (An Ars Poetica) (Michael Cirelli)

The more I read this poem by Michael Cirelli (who bizarrely does not seem to have his own website - the link is to a blog posting of his), the more I like it. The title bugs me with its parenthetical. I don't want the explanation. The poem is incredibly strong. It's streaming and yet so obviously skilled, perfectly plotted.

I don't get the many proper nouns - "Basquiat", "SAMO", "Nonna", "Wylie Dufresne", "Viscusi", but I find that in poetry I often don't get every word, so I'm okay with that and I won't be turning to Google.

I love what it says about poetry - that it's different each similar act, that it's a comfort and that it's a portal into relationships and families and God and that art has the conflicts between artistry and commercialism and sentimentality and the mundane near its center.

I think this poem is a fantastic ars poetica. It contains essays worth of thought. So glad I found this.

Favorite line: "We all do the same ol’ same ol’ same. / (Some don’t.)"

Basquiat

Driving and Drinking [North to Parowan Gap] (David Lee)

Today's is a poem by David Lee.

There is a whole range of poems that begin like this - with literal directions on how to get somewhere or do something. I like that the directions lead to a reminiscence of N's first bout of drunkenness.  It's often like that, isn't it? One thing simply leads on to another. It's just as the last line in the poem says: "any time you find a trail off a branch / you follow it . . . "

Favorite line: "and he knew but I didn't"

Advice to Passengers (John Gallaher & G. C. Waldrep)

Advice to Passengers by John Gallaher & G. C. Waldrep.

From the title, you at first think that the people are on an airplane, perhaps a boat or maybe a train, but then as you read you get the sense that these passengers have died and that they are transitioning.

I simply love the last couplet: "Don't forget to thank them / for their time." Wow. It's such a grand thought - encapsulates all of life and gives a small hope that when you have died at least someone may thank you for your life. It's really very good advice.

I am puzzled how this poem has two authors. What were their roles? Did different people write different stanzas? Did one have the idea and the other the words? I just don't see how a poetic collaboration like this would work. A poem's shared byline - I've never seen that before.

Favorite line: "Don't forget to thank them / for their time."

Autumn (T. E. Hulme)

I like the images in this poem by T. E. Hulme. (Also of note -- the great number of poems titled 'Autumn' on poets.org - why does no one use 'fall'??)

I haven't looked to see about the poet yet (who I've not heard of), but just from reading the poem I bet the poet is from many generations back. "With white faces like town children" - I mean, really? Only a socially tone deaf statement like that could equate things celestial with race. Dumb!

Anyways though, the images (well most of them) in this poem are pretty good. I love this one which is my favorite line today:

Favorite line: "And saw the ruddy moon lean over a hedge / Like a red-faced farmer"

A Dream Within a Dream (Edgar Allan Poe)

A Dream Within a Dream by Edgar Allan Poe.

It's an Inception poem!

I like the rhyme - almost all couplets, but there is a triplet in each stanza (though in different lines). I also like the despair at the end of the second stanza. The fear of unknowing. Oh God, what if it is just a dream within a dream? One of Poe's scarier themes, neh?

Favorite line: "O God! can I not save"

Gone (Lia Purpura)

I like the tone of today's poem by Lia Purpura. It confronts an immense topic (fear of death/the afterlife) with such simple, conversational phrasing. She explains her opinion exactly and without a wasted word.

The last line is fantastic. It brings the topic from the didactic to the deeply personal. Such a blow of an ending. "I can't get over this." Death, thinking of death, thinking of your legacy. Maybe the "this" is both death and the poem itself.

Favorite line: "It’s that, when I’m gone, / (and right off this is tricky) / I won’t be worried / about being gone."

Amour Honestus (Edward Hirsch)

Amour Honestus by Edward Hirsch.

This is such a fun poem to read. It's a ghazal (rhymes and repetition). It's set during medieval times and is about love. Perhaps, it is a bit vexing that in all forms of love there are such hellish difficulties. Is it really that bad? This poem seems to say that honest love is complicated, difficult and entrancing. That it is hellish yet compelling. 'Suppose that's apt.

Favorite line: "Why bring it up? Just for the hell of it."

A Negro Love Song (Paul Laurence Dunbar)

A Negro Love Song by Paul Laurence Dunbar.

[A conversation after I read this aloud to my husband]

"You like it?"

"Huh?"

"The poem I just read."

"Wasn't really listening. Do you?"

"Well, um... I like the refrain - the "jump back, honey, jump back" part."

"Yeah, I did like that."

"But the rest of it - the story is kind of basic...."

"Yeah, just a 'She's so pretty. I like you. - Oh, I like you, too'- kind of thing."

"Exactly, the poem's story doesn't grab me. The dialect in it is accomplished, I guess, but aggravating in its 1800s-ness. Plus, it made it so slow to read. Having to figure out what each dialect word was."

"But that one line was pretty sweet."

"Yeah, totally made it."

Favorite line: "jump back, honey, jump back"

Some Things Don't Make Any Sense at All (Judith Viorst)

Another one by Judith Viorst!

I read this expecting a turn like in the first poem of hers I read. But while the twist in the earlier one was pure fun, this one is funny, yes, but in a devastating way.

N thinks the birth of his brother is like the end of the world, but I guess the humor comes from knowing that he'll get over his shock and embrace his new role as brother. But it's still devastatingly hilarious and shocking - his perfectly legitimate question in the face of all that accurate evidence.

"Some things don't make any sense at all." Some times all you say is Wah!!

Favorite line: "My mom just had another baby / Why?"

In the Memphis Airport (Timothy Steele)

In the Memphis Airport by Timothy Steele.

Ah man, I was hoping, from the title, to get a whiff of my home state, but the scene in today's poem could be in any airport anywhere. The poem does nice things with the confluence of birds and planes of nature and built environments of art and technology. The language is pretty pedestrian. Super ABABCDCD rhyme scheme though.

Favorite line: "treating bags / Like careful ornithologists, / Branded with destination tags."

treating bags Like careful ornithologists, Banded with destination tags. - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/19290#sthash.2zdUzOyN.dpuf

Fifteen, Maybe Sixteen Things To Worry About (Judith Viorst)

Fifteen, Maybe Sixteen Things To Worry About by Judith Viorst.

Hee! At first, this poem struck me as boring and bit annoying. The "worries" seemed stupid and gratuitous. The parentheticals annoyed me. The language wasn't special and I couldn't really relate since the poem seemed written decades ago. But then with the turn in the last stanza, everything cleared and this formally groan-inducing poem seemed bright and cutely clever.

So no, I don't love it, but the ending surprised me and made me laugh. So it's pretty alright with me.

Favorite line: "I maybe could run out of things for me to worry about."

I maybe could run out of things for me to worry about. - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15725#sthash.ir76FHCd.dpuf

A Hand (Jane Hirshfield)

A Hand by Jane Hirshfield.

This poem is delightful. The images and ways she uses to describe something so common as a hand are thrilling in their unexpected turns. The long list of what a hand is not heightens its mystery and keeps it from the everyday. A neat trick.

I almost wish the last two lines, of what a hand is, were expanded like the rest of the poem. After describing what a hand is not, I wanted to know more of how she would describe what a hand is. I guess I mean, I liked the tone of this poem and simply wanted it to continue.

Favorite line: "star of the wristbone, meander of veins"

star of the wristbone, meander of veins.

The Balloon of the Mind (W.B. Yeats)

The Balloon of the Mind by W.B. Yeats.

This short poem contains a pair of fantastic images. "The balloon of the mind" is such a great, concrete way of describing thought. The interplay between the "balloon of the mind" and the "narrow shed" where it must end up is such a masterful image for describing how thoughts become actions or a product (but what a sad treatment the corporeal gets - ugh, a narrow shed). Still, what a neat poem.

Favorite line: "Hands, do what you're bid."

For the Man with the Erection Lasting More than Four Hours (John Hodgen)

God, this poem. John Hodgen has taken an ad which is a cultural joke, a national snicker, and turned it into a poem that contains more innuendos than most middle school boys can come up with. It's funny. It's ridiculous. It makes me groan with its constant obnoxiousness.

I wonder if it's in some formal poetic structure. There is some end-rhyme and a lot of internal rhyme, but I can't figure out what form it might be (if it is one).

The poem is fine. It's clever, but it's also kind of a one-off. Perfect for its moment, but too light to be substantial or lasting.

Favorite line: "He's got his own anchor."

He's got his own anchor.

At a Dinner Party (Amy Levy)

Okay, wow. I was going to say that this poem by Amy Levy is cute with its rhyme/and sing-songy meter. It seems a bit obvious and disrespectful to refer to LGBT dinner guests as "fruit and flowers". But then I saw when looking for a poet bio that this poem/poet is from the 1800s!

Suddenly, the meter/rhyme makes sense and the language is not so trite, but pretty darn brave for the time - as was the subject matter. I had no idea of this poet, but it's cool to think that she was writing about pretty modern topics at such an early venture.

Favorite line: "could one expect / So dull a world to know?"

could one expect

    So dull a world to know?

Archaic Torso of Apollo (Rainer Maria Rilke)

I was really looking for a short, sweet poem that I could sum up in a quickly worded paragraph and call it a night. And when I found this poem by Rainer Maria Rilke I thought I'd found just that. I was going to mention how I was certain the named poet was female (I mean, Maria?) and then I was going to go on about how this sonnet is an ekphrasis. How you get a good sense of the power of the statue and how even the unfinished can have such great power. I had it mostly written in my head by the time I was more than half done reading it. And then, he had to go and show what a masterful poet he is by not only nailing an ekphrasis, but a modern sonnet as well by including that killer of a turn.

And I mean wow! The last two lines shocked me. They broke me from my placid reading and made me stutter ..... what the what was I just reading?!? I quickly restarted.

This poem is fantastic. It's technically impeccable. It's cool and statuesque in the first 12 lines. It mirrors its subject. But then with the last two lines, it turns. Not only the poem, but the whole subject. It's not truly about the statue of Apollo. It's about you, the reader. You see the art. Well, the art sees you right back - "for here there is no place / that does not see you."

An ekphrasis poem is about you. Any poem is about you. Any art's subject reflects you. "You must change your life." You must. Art depends on it.

Favorite line: "You must change your life."

Life is Fine (Langston Hughes)

When you are happy, sing out! When you are feeling gleeful, everything seems a song. It's like that in today's poem by Langston Hughes.

It has a beat and a cadence like a song - it even has a chorus. And is that, where it's in italics, a spoken interlude? Haha. This poem has so many common song attributes.

I like the message of the poem, as well. That life is meant for living (by definition, no?), so ignore all your troubles and get on with it and live. Cuz, after all "Life is fine!"

Ooh, and that reminds me of that other quote: "While there is a chance of the world getting through its troubles, I hold that a reasonable man has to behave as though he were sure of it. If at the end your cheerfulness is not justified, at any rate you will have been cheerful." (attributed to H.G. Wells)

Since his claim that "life is fine!" seems a little screeched and not 100% genuine, it comes across as pretend. However, what's truly wrong with that? After all, life must be lived, so why not be cheerful about it.

Favorite line: "So since I'm still here livin', / I guess I will live on."

As You Never Bothered to Return My Call (August Kleinzahler)

As You Never Bothered to Return My Call by August Kleinzahler

I enjoy this poem. Its cadence - its long, prosaic flow. Its conversational tone and obviously young man pining and a little hurt point of view. It's an idyllic confessional - that sounds like it could be something you heard someone say at a bar - but only do on tv shows or in the movies. It's too polished for real life.

The syntax. The occasional ellipses -- that strikes me as very 20-something as well. And the dropped line at the end adds a meaning and a sadness to the final word that wouldn't have been there otherwise.

I like this poem which is rooted in time - not a particular decade, but in a common era of life.  Your first real love that ends.

Favorite line: "the first one, the best one, the 1954 one"

the first one, the best one, the 1954 one,

Meeting with My Father in the Orchard (Homero Aridjis)

Meeting with My Father in the Orchard by Homero Aridjis.

This poem sets the meaning very early - in the first line - by using 'past' twice, with two meanings. Later and further. And then with the father's dementia, it's like a second childhood. A forgetfulness that tends toward role reversal between children and parents. Is the child a parent? Is the parent a child? Is it later or further? Past or past?

Favorite line: "my living presence"

my living presence

the great american yellow poem (Frances Chung)

'The great american yellow poem' (by Frances Chung) is rather short, only 8 lines, and rather monochromatic - awfully yellow. But I suppose that's to be expected from the title.

GIS for Ochre

I like tracing a life through moments of similarity. Here - color is the binding, but I wonder if any item or thought would do.

You get a sense of N's culture and the spaces N inhabited. The last line makes me wonder why N only lived a yellow life and wouldn't even vary the teensiest bit (over to 'ochre' or 'citronella'). Is it pleasing - the quality of sameness or is it a (racist) nod to N's ethnicity?

Favorite line: "she learned to name forsythia where it grew"

she learned to name forsythia where it grew

Sonnet - To Science (Edgar Allan Poe)

To Science!! First, I LOVE the idea of this poem by Edgar Allan Poe. It makes me laugh to imagine addressing the whole subject - the entirety of all - in 14 lines. And what questions! They are almost whiny. As if science is the unraveling of all of fiction and poetry. And I guess that is a classic argument. One I find incredibly stupid. Ha (not to mince words!). I mean, science is all about trying to answer questions. And so is literature. They are just two ways of seeking order out of the chaos of everything that happens and is seen.

Sorry, Poe, I just don't buy your argument.

Favorite line: "Why preyest thou thus upon the poet's heart"

Why preyest thou thus upon the poet’s heart

Books (Gerald Stern)

I feel like I should know the poet Gerald Stein, but I think I am confusing him for a different author. Ah well, no matter, his poem today is truly a short story.

A story of the frigid qualities of winter and of walking in winter - how your eyes freeze and your breath catches heavy in the air. I like that this poem seems to be just a telling of the physicality of winter, but for that one almost-hidden line about "dirty tears". There is an emotional story here. The library - earlier seen as just a warm hole to escape the weather - suddenly takes on the vestige of a sanctuary. What a burrow a book is - escape from the physical cold and escape from the emotional storms of life, as well.

What a wonder a book is!

 

Favorite line: "or maybe it was / reversus"

My First Memory (of Librarians) (Nikki Giovanni)

The straightforward honesty of this poem by Nikki Giovanni is, for me, its strongest asset. I just love the unvarnished look at what could have been a sickly sweet reminiscence of her first memory of libraries. 

I like that color is such a strong part of this poem - in that the memory seems to be supersaturated. It's very visual - despite the poem's lack of flowery language.

But I dunno, there is little to keep me entranced on the reread. So it is fine. It is sweet and it is comforting. But I wish it had more, I guess.

Favorite line: "The welcoming smile of my librarian"

The welcoming smile of my librarian

Peyton Place: A Haiku Soap Opera [Excerpt] (David Trinidad)

Hee, it's a series of haiku (by David Trinidad)!

The gaps between the haiku remind me of the *blitz* of changing channels. I love how automatically each haiku brings to mind daytime television. All those references and allusions. It's actually pretty cool.

I don't know why I use excerpts for this blog. I always end on the same note - namely, that since I don't have the whole shlog I wonder how my 'talk' can get at anything in this poem. Since I only have a piece, isn't my 'talk' only piecemeal as well? By definition......

Anyway, this excerpt is amusing enough and I have enjoyed looking at this poem. Technically awesome and all that chatter about ditzy day-time tv makes me wonder about the bigger take of art and poetry and commercial appeal.

Favorite line: "I do not know which / to prefer: Shakespeare quote or / pillow fight after."

My Childhood (Matthew Zapruder)

A grand title for this poem by Matthew Zapruder, but the poem reads simply and clear-eyed.

Each line seems almost like a distinct memory flash from childhood. It was like the poet just wrote the title and then recorded the first 10 or so images that came to mind. The collection of them is comforting and suburban. It reads like an adult thinking of being a child - the words/grammar are easy to understand (childish), but the mood and overall sense between the images is graver, more adult.

Favorite line: "the mother comes home and finds the child animal sleeping"

Sonnet Substationally Like the Words of F Rodriguez One Position Ahead of Me on the Unemployment Line (Jack Agueros)

Wow, that is one long title for today's poem by Jack Agüeros. Long like the seemingly endless line at the unemployment office, perchance?

I like the tone of this poem - the ridiculousness of bureaucracy and how not having a job can feel like a job in and of itself. It's simultaneously serious and hilarious.

I hadn't heard of the poet before tonight, but I really like this poem - it's well written and polished, political and yet human in nature and a hoot and yet bone dry serious at the same time. Cool cool.

Favorite line: "The faster you spin, the stiller you look. / There's something to learn in that, but what?"

But Men Loved Darkness Rather Than Light (Richard Crashaw)

I'd never heard of this poet before, but he's from the 1600s, so it would seem as though I should have. In this short poem of his, there is some rhyming, few images or 'pretty' language and, honestly, it seems rather like a puritan lesson. A be careful what you wish for, kind of thing.

Honestly, it's pretty boring. No?

Favorite line: "shine as it will"

Drunken Winter (Joseph Ceravolo)

It's a silly, slight of a poem by Joseph Ceravolo.

I like the drunk feeling of the random pairing of words and the sloppy s sounds. I also like the preponderance of nouns - the solid footholds in the poem - "oak", "paddle", "sky", "flea", "geese", "boy", "winter".

Favorite line: "Oak oak! Like like"

E. H. (John Koethe)

I've never seen Follies. I'm not 49. Nor am I 62. And yet, this poem by John Koethe explains exactly what I have been feeling lately. I don't really have more words, but to say that this poem is great and I really appreciate the first few lines since I've been trying to write lately and I too "search for ways in and can't find them."

Thanks for this one.

Favorite line: "I (whichever I this is) saw Follies last year."

I (whichever I this is) saw Follies last year.

A Crocodile (Thomas Lovell Beddoes)

A sonnet (by Thomas Lovell Beddoes) about a crocodile!

I wish it were as cute as it potentially could be. However, it reads stiffly (but with plenty of SAT vocab!) and despite having the occasional good phrase/description it really is as dreary as its oh so boring title.

Favorite line: "lightsomely flew"

lightsomely flew

Nonsense Alphabet (Edward Lear)

Again, I am le tired, but I couldn't resist this charming poem by Edward Lear.

It's like a primer for kindergarteners. I read it aloud (of course!) and the gait is so pleasant and fun. The little rejoinders of the lower case letters almost seem smirking they are so quick and sharp.

Delightful! It would go so well with illustration -- it simply must exist in that form somewhere. But even without pictures, the words are charming enough!

Favorite line: "I was some ice / So white and so nice, / But which nobody tasted; / And so it was wasted."

I I was some ice So white and so nice, But which nobody tasted; And so it was wasted. i All that good ice! - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/22065#sthash.bArLvCsw.dpuf

Everyone Is Asleep (Enomoto Seifu-jo)

I am super-exhausted, so I went looking for a sleep poem and found this delightful haiku by Enomoto Seifu-jo.

"Everyone is asleep" and I hope to join that group very very soon. I like that in sleep neither the terrestrial ("everyone") nor the celestial ("the moon") can invade your sleeping form.

Deep, restful sleep. Is calm like this poem. Is satisfying like this poem.

Favorite line: "The moon and me."

Marriage (William Carlos Williams)

A short poem by William Carlos Williams.

It's a metephor, I suppose. Or a math equation. Marriage = man + woman = stream + field.

Both man and woman are unique individuals as a stream and field are unique entities, but both are needed to complete the scene, to make a marriage.

This poem seems fine, but also seems lazy.  I don't feel deeply as I read. I am not inspired by unique descriptors. Dunno, seems kind of dull to me.

Favorite line: "so different, this man"

So different, this man

Why Poetry Can Be Hard For Most People (Dorothea Lasky)

This poem by Dorothea Lasky gives me the shivers. Its talk of ghosts and its common language and its calm, kind tone as it explains why poetry is difficult and why reading and writing it can be hard and why relationships between people and between the past and present are so tangled and so complicated is why I think I love this poem.

Favorite line: "Because speaking to the dead is not something you want to do / When you have other things to do in your day"

Because speaking to the dead is not something you want to do
When you have other things to do in your day - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/23690#sthash.8WxQ0MXc.dpuf

Grandfather Says (Ai)

So it's neither food nor drink related, but today's poem by Ai is domestic and dark.

It's a story of a poem. Very simply told in prosy language. It's a chilling poem with its childish game of hide-and-seek contrasting with pedophilia and incest. I have a hard time dealing with the language or poetic merit of the thing, because of its emotional impact. I do wonder why this is a poem instead of written out in prose. Why isn't it an essay or article? Would the impact be lessened?

Favorite line: "It's after dinner playtime."

A Pot of Tea (Richard Kenney)

Wee! One more drink poem. Yesterday was coffee, today tea. "A Pot of Tea" by Richard Kenney.

It IS about tea, but it's also about sharks and about thoughts/connections. However, as I read I keep being distracted by the inexpert rhyming. It often clangs and is noticeable when it should be quite the opposite.

I love tea and was pretty happy to find this tea poem, but ugh I kind of hate this one. It's boring, but trying to be special. The rhyme is dull (and clangs!); the shark connection is bizarre; the idea being developed is not interesting. I truly dislike this poem.

Favorite line: "And the future's in Darjeeling --"

—

And the future’s in Darjeeling—

Time Study (Marvin Bell)

Maybe I should do a week of drink related poems. This one by Marvin Bell would definitely count.

It starts with a cup of coffee and then goes like a random thought in your mind - looping, but there does seem to be some forward motion/some method to the madness, but really if you look very close it's one giant mess. It's nonsensical, but you swear you think there is something to it.

And that's how I feel about today's poem. It's a great read - all that repetition. And at the same time, it seems to say nothing and yet something profound too. It's really rather marvelous how it accomplishes that. Cool cool. I just love the way this poem rambles.

Favorite line: "The coffee was cold so I said so. I said, "

The coffee was cold so I said so. I said,

The light of a candle (Yosa Buson)

Haiku is fun, no? Sweet, short poems - extremely distilled language - about poetic and poetry can be. Neh? I dunno. I have a fondness for them. Today's entry is a haiku by Yosa Buson.

It has superb visuals. It names the season. It links nature to a human experience. It wastes not a word. It uses a word's double meaning ("springs") to add a 2nd layer to the poem.

But, sadly, despite its key-on haiku-ic nature, I can't really get enthused about this poem. It doesn't strike me as interesting or unusual. It just seems fine to me. Technically, fine, but lacking spark (for me). How about for you?

Favorite line: "spring twilight"

spring twilight.

Wedding Cake (Naomi Shihab Nye)

Okay, so I am cheating. 1) I didn't post a food-related poem (or any poem, for that matter) yesterday and 2) today's entry (by Naomi Shihab Nye) has a food title, but there isn't really food in the poem itself.

Instead, this poem is a little story - about how a woman got stuck with an infant while the mother went to the airplane's bathroom to change. She becomes fascinated with the child, starts to feel the pangs of motherhood - the caring, the worries, the hopes.

Instead, this poem seems to say that the whole of something can be distilled and smooshed into something more compact and meaningful. How the child knows "the small finger / was funnier than the whole arm"; how the poem's narrator can feel connected to the child, for life, in less than an hour; how a poem less than 50 lines can explain a mother/child bond and paint the portrait of an infant; how this poem shows the wonder of poetry - full stories and prose-y truths in their most condensed forms. 

Favorite line: "I read new new new."

the small finger was funnier than the whole arm.

the small finger was funnier than the whole arm.vv

Chocolate Milk (Ron Padgett)

Who doesn't love a tall glass of chocolate milk?? Poet Ron Padgett sure does! 

He also loooves exclamation points! Teehee! It's such a cute poem with such a cute voice. It's a childish poem and is sweet in precisely the way that a glass of chocolate milk is - simple, sugary and full of giddy love. Wee!

Favorite line: "Oh God! It’s great!"

Coolness of the melons (Matsuo Basho)

One more food related poem. Today's is a haiku by Basho. It's translated by Robert Hass. I actually got to go to a reading he (a pretty good poet in his own right) performed at.

It's a great poem because it brings to mind melon in a country field.  So few syllables and yet a full, emotionally-charged view of such a rustic scene.

It is comforting and picturesque.

Favorite line: "flecked with mud"

Wine Tasting (Kim Addonizio)

What luck! The poem of the day on poets.org today is food related. Wine Tasting by Kim Addonizio.

Okay, so maybe not food, but drink is close enough. This poem starts by comparing wine to some of the more common comparisons. This wine tastes of 'cracked leather' and 'cherries'. Then it goes a bit more broad - wine yields talk of poets and human relations. She then seems to say that these connections, like the buzz from the wine she's drinking, will soon end. However, that doesn't stop one from tasting or trying it all.

Favorite line: "the moon dove / in the river"

the moon dove
in the river

Strawberrying (May Swenson)

Food themed poetry. Who knew there were so many? Today's poem by May Swenson is about picking fresh strawberries. Yum!

I'd guess that food is such a ripe (to use a related term) subject for a good poem since food is essential, primal and it is linked to lust and love and life and creation and destruction. 

In the poem, picking strawberries comes across as very violent what with her hands being "murder-red" and the fruits with their "bleed" and "rot". It's a contrast with the poem's only other subjects - children on a shore vacation with their mother.

Maybe her way of talking about strawberry picking is supposed to reflect the unexpected intrusion of violence on ordinary life? The inescapable darker side?

After all, at the end, if you pick a strawberry which is too mushy, too soft, you just abandon it to the ground to rot. You've got to see the darkness in life to avoid such a fate yourself. Don't get soft since the soft ones are abandoned and left to rot.

Seems awfully dark. Shoot.

Favorite line: "Ripeness / wants to be ravished"

This Is Just To Say (William Carlos Williams)

Continuing the food theme, today's is This Is Just To Say by William Carlos Williams which talks about plums (a gorgeous, delicious fruit).

It's short and sweet and tartly funny (eh, just like a plum - sweet/tart??). The language is plain and basic. It almost reads like a hand written note instead of a polished poem.

Its confessional tone is endearing and forgiveness is automatic. How could you be mad at someone who has such a child-like response to beauty? 'I had to have them - they were so meant to eaten, so perfect and so beautiful ('so sweet and so cold')'.

Favorite line: "Forgive me / they were delicious"

Forgive me they were delicious

Ode To The Onion (Pablo Neruda)

I was listening to Marketplace on NPR the other day, when this story about an onion shortage came on. The story started with a nod to Pablo Neruda's 'Ode To The Onion'. I had never heard that poem before, so I simply had to look it up.

The copy that I found doesn't cite who translated it, but I wish it had been done better. For instance, at the end, the word "crystalline" really seemed out of place. Meh.

The simplicity of the poem's language nicely mirrors the simple nature of the onion - a cooking staple. But like how an onion adds such depth and taste to a sauce, the descriptions of this simple plant are almost over the top in their comparisons. It's described as "a planet", "the miracle" and " destined to shine".

A tad too enthusiastic for me, but it is an ode (which I know he's written a number of to various mundane things). It seems to be advice to see the wonder, the marvelousness of even ordinary objects.

Okay, Pablo Neruda, I can get behind that sentiment.

Favorite line: "Onion, / luminous flask"

Oysters (Seamus Heaney)

As a surprising number of posts on my facebook wall this morning mentioned, Seamus Heaney died today at 74. I don't know much of his work; I only have one of his poetry books - the excellent Field Work. However, the first poem in it, Oysters, is one of my favorites and has special significance for me.

I had only recently tried oysters when I first read the poem and the line "My tongue was a filling estuary" was such a thunderstroke. Yes, that's it. As was the descriptor of the seafood as "Alive and violated." Eating oysters is so unlike eating other meats/seafoods - it is more basic, primal and more delicate, full of sensations.

This poem is about oysters; it is about history (nice little bit about how the Romans got their oysters); it is about writing. It makes for a marvelous opener to the whole book and really gets to explaining the how and the feel of writing.

And that last line! Mmm. "I ate the day/Deliberately, that its tang/Might quicken me all into verb, pure verb." WOW. I remember reading this and hitting that closing line and being simply blown away. Stunning, stunning, stunning.

Thank you, Seamus Heaney.

Favorite line: "Might quicken me all into verb, pure verb"

It was a hard thing to undo this knot (Gerard Manley Hopkins)

I took a little break from daily updating these past couple weeks, but I think I am ready to start anew with this quotidian effort.

Whenever I have run across a poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins I have been duly impressed. I find his poetry to be technically impressive, philosophical, searching and kind. I think he'd have been a cool dude to have a late-night conversation with. Anyway, his poem for today did nothing to disabuse me of my prior opinions.

It's a short (love short poems!!), rhyming couplet poem that makes me think of truths in physics and in art/writing. Oh and it also makes me reflect on how pretty rainbows are. :)

If we both look at a rainbow in the sky, we are actually looking at two different bows. (True!) The slight difference in our perspectives is enough for the light to hit the drops in a slightly different way creating a yes, similar, but truly 100% distinct rainbow.

So personal perspective changes everything. In nature and then so in writing as well. Two people can read a poem or a story and come away with two different yet valid versions of the work.

Ooh, maybe the fact that the poem starts and ends with the same line is a nod to that concept.

Favorite line: "The rainbow shines, but only in the thought / Of him that looks."

The rainbow shines, but only in the thought
Of him that looks. - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/23645#sthash.3OLR9hX2.dpuf

The rainbow shines, but only in the thought
Of him that looks. - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/23645#sthash.3OLR9hX2.dpuf

Four Poems (Yosa Buson)

Today's post is slightly unusual in that it is talking about every poem on the linked page. All four are by Yosa Buson. They have been translated from the Japanese, but I imagine that natively they are all haiku.

It's unusual to talk of poems in a grouping like they are here. But, um, they are all serene and picturesque. I think it's a haiku feature, but I like that for each one you know what season it is. Summer, autumn, frost.

My favorite is number 557. One's first step is a journey, all by itself. But also, since it's outside the gate, it's like leaving home and as the poem states, it's appropriately autumn. If you leave the gate of home, you're not a child anymore, so you are on the path to adulthood and old age and then death. Kind of like summer --> autumn --> winter. And not only is it wintertime, but it's evening (close of day) too. Sheesh, neh?

Favorite line: "I too am a traveller"

sisters (Lucille Clifton)

Today's poem is sisters by Lucille Clifton.

I like the easiness of this poem. It sounds like natural speech. I adore how you can piece together a whole joined friendship out of her statements. You know they grew up together, went through some hard time, poverty together and are now living middle-aged life with families, together.

It's a sweet poem that I really hope the friend whom it is about cherishes. What a kind, loving poem.

Favorite line: "got babies / got thirty-five / got black"

got babies got thirty-five got black

What Is an Epigram? (Samuel Tayler Coleridge)

Oho! I just posted that other poem/epigram about parsley and now this! If you need a pithy definition of the word, look no farther than this poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge. 

I look at the poem and want to edit it, however. Since the title is repeated in the poem itself, it seems to not fulfill the given definition of an epigram. It could be made even more brief and still retain the message.

Favorite line: "wit its soul"

wit its soulw

Further Reflections on Parsley (Ogden Nash)

This little poem (5 syllables!) by Ogden Nash is an epigram on that bit of green that "decorates" your plate at restaurants. The title is full of pomp (and at 8 syllables is almost double the length of the poem) and I don't know where (but doubt if) the original reflections on parsley are to be found.

Are all epigrams poems? How is this epigram a poem? Or is it a poem which I am falsely calling an epigram?

What is a poem is such a difficult question to satisfactorily answer. Maybe that will be a good post for a later date.

Favorite line: "Parsley" (hahha)

Wild Rose (Bryher)

Wild Rose by Bryher

Eh, this poem sounds very old. It's plainly romantic and a little bit cliche. But the phrasing is unique enough that I'd say that the poem as a whole doesn't fall as a cliche. But I also can't say that I find myself swooning over the images. It's pretty well written, but it's not for me.

Favorite line: "Only the beat of your throat against my eyes"

Only the beat of your throat against my eyes.

These Hands, If Not Gods (Natalie Diaz)

I like poems that combine the holy and the profane. Poet Carl Phillips does this very well. This poem by Natalie Diaz, unlike those by Carl Philips, lacks hesitancy - it's very straight forward and clear headed - but it does mix bodies and sex with holiness and biblical references.

I like her questioning if her hands are not gods with all that they do. How are they not like gods when they can shape her lover's body, his bodily reactions, their shared love? What a wonderful idea and concept for a poem.

Favorite line: "Finally, / a sin worth hurting for."

Finally,
a sin worth hurting for.

won't you celebrate with me (Lucille Clifton)

I don't know the cause why Lucille Clifton wrote this poem, but I can find resonance in my own life.

I get that this poem is a celebration of daily victories, of simply being every.day, but I also find a connection to celebrating that which may have been otherwise. Celebrate life, for it may have been otherwise; celebrate your being, for it may have been otherwise. That kind of thing.

I will celebrate to you! And to myself and to anyone else who finds a connection with this poem.

Favorite line: "won't you celebrate with me / what i have shaped into / a kind of life? i had no model."

won't you celebrate with me what i have shaped into a kind of life? i had no model. - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/23323#sthash.3XmCBUjJ.dpuf

Experiment in Divination: Voice and Character (Rebecca Wolff)

Experiment in Divination: Voice and Character by Rebecca Wolff.

I have had a long day and I am tired, so there won't be much substantial talk about this poem by Rebecca Wolff. Sorry 'bout that.

However, I did want to say that as I read this poem it seemed like a chant or other religious sort-of song. All the repeated and echoed lines.

Favorite line: "There is a curiosity that knows / I know"

There is a curiosity that knows
I know

My Rich Friend (Jason Schneiderman)

This poem, by Jason Schneiderman, reminds me, in tone, of ones by Frank O'Hara. It has a similar breeziness to it.

This rich friend, who has all options open to him, also has the perfect 'out' - the ideal window to jump from if he were to commit suicide. It's a telling observation of N, which illuminates more about him than the rich friend. I really like poems (and stories) which provide more details about the speaker than the subject.

Favorite line: "and then the city going by / ever so fast."

Dear Friends (Edwin Arlington Robinson)

Dear Friends by Edwin Arlington Robinson.

Ah ha! When I read, I noted the rhymes and saw that they had a certain pattern. I looked it up and this poem is a Petrarchan sonnet! Very impressive. I had selected today's poem, not for its form, but because I liked what it said.

I can just picture his friends bemoaning his writing career. It's very sweet - their care - and very misdirected which is why I like his response to them in this poem - it's still sweet and kind, but also firm as he says 'lay off!'. Hehe. I loved the concluding two lines. Made me crack a smile.

Favorite line: "Dear friends, reproach me not for what I do"

Dear friends, reproach me not for what I do,

Anybody Can Write a Poem (Bradley Paul)

Anybody Can Write a Poem by Bradley Paul

Love this. It starts with, as the title says, the idea, the truth(?), that anyone can write a poem and ends with his mother and gives a reason (the reason?) he writes poetry - that he just can't shut up.

I love that this poem contains the modern (an Internet argument) and the ancient (mothers and sons) and also gives a taste of the personalities and relationship between the son and the mother.

I want to read more  from this poet.

Favorite line: "I am arguing with an idiot online."

I am arguing with an idiot online.

Pirate Ships (Brandon Dean Lamson)

I like this poem's (by Brandon Dean Lamson) subject matter and its ease in tone and language. However, I don't like the plainness of its lines or the fact that there is no set pattern for the stanza lengths. Seems sloppy. And the ending falls completely flat for me. Dunno. Perhaps, it echoes for some, but I wish it had ended on a stronger note.

Favorite line: "but I can't focus what's happening"

Coda (Ezra Pound)

The end of a long day, so today's is the appropriately titled 'Coda' by Ezra Pound.

Three (long) lines makes me wonder if you could call this a haiku - an nontraditional one for sure.

Anyway, I like what he is wondering in this poem. If a poem, if art, looks for meaning in all (the wrong?) places does it, perhaps, miss the beauty of the thing itself (the peoples' faces) for the hidden meaning it sees within?

Favorite line: "O my songs"

High Diver (Kurt Brown)

Back from vacation and back to poetry! Today's is a poem by Kurt Brown.

When I started the poem I liked its clarity and how it reminded me of 'Elegy for Jane' - another sympathetic portrait of a young girl. But as I read on, I got bored with how melodramatic it was and how seriously it takes itself. I feel as though I was supposed to see the beauty in the poem, in the diver, in acts of youth - the mocking and discovery of love, but all I kept wondering was who is the speaker in the poem? A coach? Another teen? A creepy man? This poem did not resonate with me because I wasn't enthralled with the subject nor did I sympathize with the speaker (because I don't know their intentions).

Favorite line: "Straight-backed, clean-limbed, freckled like a trout"

Affirmation (Donald Hall)

I like the straightforwardness of this poem on aging by Donald Hall. It is calm, almost didactic and I supposed frightening in its implications ("To grow old is to lose everything."), but its pace is steady, its conclusions so obvious and unavoidable that I find the poem to be comforting overall.

After all, the poem's conclusion (as its title indicates) is an affirmation that all go through aging and that that is something worthy savoring ("delicious"). So, a toast 'to life!' might as well be the same as 'to getting old!'. Enjoy them equally.

Favorite line: "New women come and go. All go."

New women come and go. All go.

June Light (Richard Wilbur)

Happy Anniversary to me and my husband (of 3! years!!). A happy day full of love made me turn to romantic, lovey poetry tonight. This poem by Richard Wilbur does nicely.

A month earlier, so not quite in season, but still the romance of the poem infuses our day today. My husband's love to me is a gift I still can't quite believe. I see what N means when he says her love to him seems like "the first great gift of all". It's extraordinary, love.

This poem is not the perfect love poem for me (I appreciate it, but I don't feel it), so the hunt is still on, but I like the sense of love=a pure gift=something in nature. Love is whole; love is true.

Favorite line: "It seemed as blessed with truth and new delight"

It seemed as blessed with truth and new delight

The Essay (Brian Culhane)

I don't really care for this poem by Brian Culhane.

I don't like the length of the lines - the boxiness of the poem. The allusions seem non-ideal and put in for show. I guess you can make the case for their academic nature, but using terms like 'Gates of Horn' and 'Etruscan' just put me off. 

Honestly, this poem seems like it has too many words - a fine draft, but that it should be edited down to its essence before you can call it done.

Favorite line: "I watch them now bend low to their work, smudging ink"

Poem [Lana Turner Has Collapsed!] (Frank O'Hara)

This poem by Frank O'Hara is so quick, so glib it's almost gleeful. It's fun and it's light to read, but all the subtext is lugubrious.

It's such a Hollywood poem - it deals with a movie star and a tabloid story of her collapse. It's such an inconsequential story. N of the poem is walking when his world is suddenly stopped short by this story and he seems to have such a visceral reaction to it - he implores her to 'get up', 'we love you'. It makes me wonder about that kind of connection people feel toward far-away movie stars. And it made me wonder if that feeling of connection is sad or empathetic.

I like the sense of N you get from this poem. All of the 'ands' and run-on sentences in the poem makes the speaker seem really young. And then his seemingly random concern with Lana Turner makes N seem immature - his feelings, like his thoughts are scattered and all over the place.

I like that this poem can be both a portrait of a person and also contain talk of the glibness of Hollywood culture (and also a bit about the weather in NYC!). It's a short, quick poem that contains more and more the longer I look at it.

Favorite line: "I was trotting along and suddenly / it started raining and snowing"

I was trotting along and suddenly it started raining and snowing - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/20394#sthash.cBOOhrbN.dpuf

to my last period (Lucille Clifton)

I love Lucille Clifton! Who else has written a poem about menopause - about having a last period?

This poem is unglossed - I mean, it's very direct and easy to understand. Even though I don't have first-hand experience, it's still a relate-able poem.

I like how friendly she is toward her period - "well, girl". It always brought her misery, but once gone, she misses it - or misses what it stood for - her youth and sexuality.

Favorite line: "well, girl, goodbye"

well, girl, goodbye,

What's the railroad to me? (Henry David Thoreau)

Just like says in his bio, I never knew that Henry David Thoreau was a poet. Apparently, he considered himself one - got his start there, but going off of today's poem I'm very glad he moved on to prose.

Cuz, today's poem is just not doing it for me. It seems mindless and juvenile-ly written. It's nice with its sing-song-y rhyme and I am intrigued by the sole line not in a rhyming couplet - "Where it ends." That line seems so set apart and very adult. I like that.

However, the rest of it doesn't impress or interest me. How about you?

Favorite line: "Where it ends."

Variation on the Word Sleep (Margaret Atwood)

After finding yesterday's entry, I had hoped to find this poem by Margaret Atwood which I had first found in high school. It was a poem that really made me feel something - I read a bunch of poetry in hs, but I'd mostly just 'loved' poetry in the sense that I appreciated it. This poem melted me then as it did when I reread it today.

It's a pure romantic poem. It's sweet. It's storybook-like. I learn about N - her desire for essential anonymity is particularly telling. I learn about her culture - how she imagines her love walking in a world of "wavering forest of bluegreen leaves / with its watery sun & three moons". That image is so very science fiction-y, I feel as though I have read or seen this world before in some other work.

I love the storybook in this poem. It's very linear - how the love goes from sleep to the cave to the boat and back to the body. I like to imagine that that has to do with Atwood's more famous life as a novelist.

I like her books a lot and this poem is all kinds of wonderful. The kind of love that N has for her lover is so strong and kind, creative and lovely. All of those words equally apply to the poem as well, of course. Love this poem very very much.

Favorite line: "I would like to watch you sleeping, / which might not happen. / I would like to watch you, / sleeping."

You Begin (Margaret Atwood)

OMG, I love this poem by Margaret Atwood. I'm sleepy and was browsing around for a limerick or something short/sweet when I found it.

It's not short, but it is written with simple/storybook words. It is calm; it is sweet. It is aw-inducing (in a wonderful, non-saccharine way).

I like the way it reads like a kid's book. This is ... this is.... -- all that repetition. Somehow it reminded me of Goodnight Moon. The book starts like that, but then the mother's adult voice takes over (her worries) and at the end you get the mother's gift of language (hand) - protective and caring.

Loved reading this.

Favorite line: "This is the world; which is fuller / and more difficult to learn than I have said."

This is the world, which is fuller and more difficult to learn than I have said. - See more at: https://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/16789#sthash.KnRd1Wbe.dpuf

The Author to Her Book (Anne Bradstreet)

I like the idea behind this poem by Anne Bradstreet a lot. The talking to your offspring/your newly created book which has been sent off for publication.

I love the idea of your book being akin to your child; the idea that you'll have to explain to your book its deficiencies and why you let it go out.

There is a lot of humor in this poem. The language is stilted since it was written so many centuries ago. The rhyming couplets are rather great - the rhymes are almost all true rhymes (not slant) and yet they are natural-sounding and don't make the thing sing-song-y. Neat poem.

Favorite line: "I washed thy face, but more defects I saw"

I washed thy face, but more defects I saw,

Ode to Ironing (Pablo Neruda)

I was hoping for a bit of humor from this poem by Pablo Neruda. Not a guffaw or anything, but I was expecting something to make me smile (I mean, an ode to ironing??). Instead, this poem is very serious, very calm and instructive.

Or at least, I think so. The poem seems to say - poetry is good. The earth needs work (needs to be ironed out). The daily 'ironing'/the fixing of the earth is what defines poetry. Maybe then this is a sort of ars poetica? It gives a definition of the art, at least.

Any way, a fine poem, but I guess I wanted more lilt. What do you think of it?

Favorite line: "the sea's whiteness has to be ironed out"

The Coming of Light (Mark Strand)

The Coming of Light by Mark Strand.

It's short (and I always tend to like short poems), but the double meaning here is so coying, it's almost maudlin. I mean, evening hours or old age? Hmm, what could this poem be about. And I find the symbols (light, love, stars, dust) to be cliche and uninteresting. It's a well written poem in that it doesn't waste any words. But I just wish that the words chosen were more exciting.

Favorite line: "Even this late the bones of the body shine"

Even this late the bones of the body shine

Mimesis (Fady Joudah)

It's been a long day, but I smiled as I read this poem by Fady Joudah. It's short, easy to understand and has a kind, direct heart.

I can easily picture the child at the center of the poem and her logic. When I smiled as I read the poem, I was really smiling at her, at her empathy and brainy kindness. 

Favorite line: "This isn't a place to call home"

4/40/92 for rodney king (Lucille Clifton)

I was very young when the Rodney King event happened, so this poem by Lucille Clifton doesn't resonate with me much.

I mean, I like the sound of it. The musicality that comes through even though there is no punctuation.

I like that even if you had zero idea of who Rodney King was, you would still get that a sense of ethnic/racial inequity.

Favorite line: "so the body / of one black man / is nobody"

so the body of one black man is nobody

so the body of one black man is nobody

If the World Was Crazy (Shel Silverstein)

A long day, so a lite poem by Shel Silverstein.

"If the World Was Crazy" nothing would make sense! I admire Shel Silverstein's creativity as he lists numerous nonsensical foods, clothes and activities. An amusing list, plus it rhymes in pairs?? That's pretty crazy. Crazy talent.

Favorite line: "A big slice of soup"

A big slice of soupA

Humoresque (Edna St. Vincent Millay)

Humoresque by Edna St. Vincent Millay is a great title. It already starts me smiling - a made up perfect word.

The poem itself is great in that it rhymes, is short and is both serious (devastating) and funny. So talented!!

And yeah, I am so so tired right now, so even though this poem has a dark dark edge, I won't get into that. Just read it and grieve for the Narrator of the poem. Admire her also for her humor in the face of such tragedy.

Favorite line: "(Love, by whom I was beguiled, / Grant I may not bear a child.)"

(Love, by whom I was beguiled, Grant I may not bear a child.) - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/23303#sthash.wKWiKquR.dpuf

Eyes Fastened With Pins (Charles Simic)

I started this blog as a way of getting more exposure to poetry and to stretch, intellectually, a bit. Charles Simic is an example of a poet who I have been introduced to through this blog. I really like his poetry because it is simple and yet conveys a grandness beneath the veneer. An example - today's poem. You can also search for his name on the lower right where I have included a list of every poet I've talked about. The names are ranked by their frequency. So many (talented) names!

Anyhoo, today's poem is about death - the personification of death - the humanizing of the concept. In the beginning, I was getting bugged by this poem - many of the images are cliches and I have a personal dislike of beginning every line with a capital. But then with the last image, I get that death is everyone's partner (life's partner = true!). That maybe the earlier cliches are appropriate since isn't a cliche just a commonly repeated truth? Sounds like death itself is the biggest cliche, so why not emphasize that by having stuff like these lines:

The little
Wife always alone
Ironing death's laundry.
The beautiful daughters

Setting death's supper table.
The neighbors playing
Pinochle in the backyard
Or just sitting on the steps
Drinking beer.

Perhaps, there is no escaping death, so there is no escaping cliches? I dunno, or maybe this is just a weak poem. Maybe I am stretching too much. What do you think?

Favorite line: "Undressing slowly, sleepily, / And stretching naked / On death's side of the bed."

Undressing slowly, sleepily, And stretching naked

The little Wife always alone Ironing death's laundry. The beautiful daughters Setting death's supper table. The neighbors playing Pinochle in the backyard Or just sitting on the steps Drinking beer. - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15259#sthash.AepVqxX8.dpuf

The little Wife always alone Ironing death's laundry. The beautiful daughters Setting death's supper table. The neighbors playing Pinochle in the backyard Or just sitting on the steps Drinking beer. - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15259#sthash.AepVqxX8.dpuf

The little Wife always alone Ironing death's laundry. The beautiful daughters Setting death's supper table. The neighbors playing Pinochle in the backyard Or just sitting on the steps Drinking beer. - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15259#sthash.AepVqxX8.dpuf

The little Wife always alone Ironing death's laundry. The beautiful daughters Setting death's supper table. The neighbors playing Pinochle in the backyard Or just sitting on the steps Drinking beer. - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15259#sthash.AepVqxX8.dpuf

9. (e.e. cummings)

Fun fact: I just learned that e. e. (cummings) stands for Edward Estlin! A neat middle name. Anyhoo, today's poem is the simply titled '9.'

Poets.org categorizes this poem as a poem about passion and sex. I can see passion and romantic entanglement here (not quite sex but somewhere like that). Although, it's not an unbridled passion. The main image is that of a clock - a thing of rigid order. I think that's where the interest (for me) in this poem comes from. After all, it's a love/passion poem that doesn't really describe the people or their features - instead, it goes on about a clock. The tics and tocs of the clock he is describing are the kisses, the acts of love. And that's interesting. No?

Favorite line: "there are so many tictoc / clocks everywhere telling people / what toctic time it is"

there are so many tictoc clocks everywhere telling people what toctic time it is - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/21421#sthash.QOFy4KJv.dpuf

"What Do Women Want?" (Kim Addonizio)

Love the verve in this poem by Kim  Addonizio!

Can't you just hear her voice as you read this poem? It sounds like a city sidewalk in summer. It sounds sweet with a tougher exterior. It sounds romantic and pragmatic. It sounds silly and very serious. It sounds very human.

I like her answer to that inane question of the title. It's not my answer, but I do like her response. I like both what she is saying and even more so, the attitude behind her answer.

Favorite line: "all those keys glittering in the window"

all those keys glittering in the window