Untitled (Matsuo Basho)

My Internet is down, but poem I must, so this will be short, sweet since I am composing on my phone. Today's is a little ditty by the Japanese poet, Basho (no link tonight, sorry Google him. He's a great poet. Worth your time. )

It goes:

A frog jumped into water -
A deep resonance.

Good, no? Short, but conveys a perfectly imagined and perfectly felt scene. Even though they aren't mentioned you can just picture the rippled rings extending.

It almost make a haiku seem wordy. Haha.

Favorite line: "A deep resonance"

Mending Wall (Robert Frost)

This poem by Robert Frost is another friend's favorite. Thanks Michael W. for reintroducing me to this great one.

It's a quiet, solid poem - the diction and even the lack of line breaks reflect that. The lack of line breaks also serves to make the poem a long line, a wall (if you will) between reader and poet. And just as it's so for the neighbors, perhaps the distance that text puts between you and the poet is best. Boundaries are good. They allow interaction (reading/thinking about the poem & chatting with your neighbor), but also allow for defined distance (there is little doubt of who is the reader vs writer & each man's plot of land is clearly demarcated).

 
Okay, so that's really just a half-thought out idea, but that's why this poem is so great. In all my previous readings, I'd never made that connection about reader/writer/and the boundaries between them. This poem is easy to read and understand and yet so dense. It contains so much wisdom.

Good find, Michael.

Favorite line: "Spring is the mischief in me"

Spring is the mischief in me,

My Lady Is Compared to a Young Tree (Vachel Lindsay)

Today's poem is by Vachel Lindsay - a name I had never heard of, but upon looking it up found out that he was an American poet around the 1900s who was very well regarded, was a mentor to other famous poets and was more or less promptly forgotten about once dead.

This poem today makes me think that he was kind of capable as a poet, but that in the end he is unremembered because he wrote unremarkable poetry. Cuz this poem? Boooring! The title already sets the dull tone and the poem itself does nothing to subvert it. He loves his lady - she's like a young tree in spring. Not that original and there is not much to love in this poem.

Favorite line: "My democratic queen"

Poetry (Alfred Kreymborg)

I guess this (by Alfred Kreymborg) is funny, but, for me, it mostly falls flat. There is no lilt to the lines or any surprises once he starts his joke.

And also - 4 inches between the top of the critic's head and his eyes - isn't that one large forehead? Maybe that's just another zing.

I don't know. This poem does little for me. Though I am curious if Ladislaw was really a critic. And what bad review he must of written for one of Kreymborg's works.

Favorite line: "what you have done / is Poetry --"

what you have done
is Poetry—

LadislawL

Wild Geese (Mary Oliver)

I had posted my request for people's favorite poems to my facebook page, as well as here, and my friend Odelia responded with her fav-at-the-moment, Wild Geese by Mary Oliver.

I had never read the poem before or (shamefully) heard of the poet. The poem, I love. It's clear, simple - easy to understand words, declarative sentences. Its message is reassuring, its tone enveloping. It's a nature/nurture poem without being maudlin.

Thanks to Odelia for introducing me to this comforting poem and its acclaimed author.

Favorite line: "Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, / the world offers itself to your imagination"

A Greek Island (Edward Hirsch)

Yesterday, I got some comments for favorite poems on my facebook (which was awesome!), so I'll be 'talking' about those coming up, but today's is a erotic poem by Edward Hirsch.

It's short and confusing with its talk of Greek islands and olives and marl, but as you read you begin to feel a little flushed and you realize that the island, olives and marl stand for a lover's body and their sex.

I like how he describes her body and their intimacy. Having so many metaphors like that is kind of cool.

Favorite line: "Traveling over your body I found / The falling olive and the cajoling flute"

Traveling over your body I found

The failing olive and the cajoling flute, - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/23510#sthash.Ek2dONL2.dpufTra

Traveling over your body I found

The failing olive and the cajoling flute, - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/23510#sthash.Ek2dONL2.dpufT

Nothing Gold Can Stay (Robert Frost)

Today's is my husband's favorite poem (by Robert Frost) - Nothing Gold Can Stay.

He (like me) first read it in S. E. Hinton's The Outsiders. He says that he loves the poem because of that connection. It's just so interwoven with that book - which was such an excellent read.

It was the first poem for him that he really liked, that made him think. It's definitely philosophical. I like the rhymed couplets - the simpleness of the poem belies its tragic subject - that nothing can remain good or perfect for long. 

It also made me think. I would like to read others' favorite poems. I would like to explore those poems that have meant something to you. Leave a comment with one of your favs. I'd love to read and 'talk' about it.

Favorite line: "So Eden sank to grief"

Tante Annel's Scrapbook (Anya Silver)

Family guilt. The guilt of history. They are both here - interwoven - in today's poem by Anya Silver.

An older relative's scrapbooking hobby - a German war past. It all comes to a head here and is wrapped in family emotions - of a younger family member ignorant of the past and wanting to know and the older ones refusing to explain.

I like the sense of family - really of any family - of any past tragedy. I wish this were not just one long stanza though - it makes it difficult to read/process what is being said.

Favorite line: "this record that bites and scalds my hands"

William Dawes (Eileen Myles)

Wow. That's some fast writing then publication. Today's poem by Eileen Myles is about the Boston marathon bombing.

It's one skinny poem - all in lower case. I don't know if that's her style or not, but it does add to the urgency of the thing. Like she saw the news and immediately penned the poem. And maybe it's part of that immediacy, but I find the poem to be confusing - with sentences that seem to start, then run into one another. There is not a lot of clarity here.

Well except for that one breakaway line - "little babies dying" - I bet that was the impetus for her to write this poem. The emotional impact of that line is large, but then it gets muddled again as she goes on to 'wrap' things up talking about events and history and living truth.

So for me, this poem's publication one week after the event seems opportunistic (of the publisher), but that this is a good draft of a poem - not quite finished, but onto something. 

Favorite line: "I don't even think they / live here. They run all the way / into Boston. Why"

I don’t even think they
live here. They run all the way
into Boston. Why - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/23500#sthash.vpECSymz.dpuf

I saw a man pursuing the horizon (Stephen Crane)

This poem is attributed to Stephen Crane. I never read any of his books, so I can't tell if this poem is like his other writing. But this one is short, easy to understand, philosophical and hysterical.

Unrelated. But this poem reminded me of Alice in Wonderland's Caucus Race. The important silliness of it.

I seriously kind of burst out laughing at the conclusion. I pictured this crazy, long bearded man (like someone ship wrecked) yelling "you lie" as he passed the speaker. Funny funny.

Favorite line: "I was disturbed at this; / I accosted the man."

I was disturbed at this;
I accosted the man.

I was disturbed at this;
I accosted the man.

We never know how high we are (Emily Dickinson)

Har, har. Today's poem, on 4/20, is Emily Dickinson's 'We never know how high we are'.

I know most people really like Emily Dickinson, but she's never been a favorite for me. Same for this poem - it's fine, but I don't really like it all that much. I like the sentiment in the poem of not knowing how high one is - how much one has achieved - until one is called upon to act. But, while that's nice, this poem didn't really do it for me.

Favorite line: "We never know how high we are / Till we are called to rise"

We never know how high we are Till we are called to rise; - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/19370#sthash.M5G8831z.dpuf

Northwest Passage (James Pollock)

After Cavafy reads the line below the title of today's poem by James Pollock. I had to look that up, but it's the name of a Greek poet who lived in the late 1800s/early 1900s. He wrote a poem that seems similar to today's, but honestly, also seems better.

I mean, today's is fine. Well written - all those couplets. I learned a little history lesson as I read. However, I found the words and story told to be boring. I think part of my finding it boring has to do with the use of second person. I don't find myself relating. It's too much distance.

And then the ending 'lesson' is wrapped too tightly, for me. It's too neat. And in browsing that similar poem by Cavafy, "Ithaca", it too wraps up neatly at the end. So I guess he's just following Cavafy's form, but I am meh about it.

Favorite line: "When you set out to find your Northwest Passage"

An Unemployed Machinist (John Giorno)

Don't have much time tonight, but today's is An Unemployed Machinist by John Giorno.

It's listed as a Found Poem. I'm not sure what the source material in this poem is, but I love the sound of the poem. It seems just like a blues song. I love all the repetition. It takes a pretty dull story and adds an emotional gravitas. It's deeply felt.

Favorite line: "An unemployed machinist"

An unemployed machinist

Lake Havasu (Dorianne Laux)

Today's post is for Lake Havasu by Dorianne Laux.

The lake is in Arizona on the border with California. It is apparently a pretty common "beach" scene for partiers. I mean, even in Google Image searching the name of the lake, the 3rd image is of girls in bikinis with beers in hand!

I think that sense of party hang-out is in the poem, but also with a sense of looking back and of just describing the scene. It could have been a plain nature poem, but it's not just. N is also in there and so is a certain time/place and, I think, a sense of having lost the innocence of youth.

Favorite line: "I stood waist deep / in that damned blue, and I was beautiful, a life saver / resting on my young hips"

I stood waist deep
in that dammed blue, and I was beautiful, a life saver
resting on my young hips, - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/23464#sthash.zJDZZdHR.dpuf

Haiku Ambulance (Richard Brautigan)

I am feeling super tired, so I searched for a haiku to talk about. I found this one by Richard Brautigan and while it's not a traditional form, it did utterly crack me up.

The lines are off-balanced, the syllable count doesn't fall into anything that looks like a haiku's form and the humor just tickles me. Because, yes, sometimes things viewed through haiku (or just poetry in general) take on a serious edge - everything in a poem means something, after all. Or maybe, like this poem points out, maybe nothing is meant and no one should take any care at all.

Favorite line: "A piece of green pepper / fell"

A piece of green pepper fell

Living in Numbers (Claire Lee)

I have so many questions about today's poem by Claire Lee?

How is this a poem and not a short story?? Is the poet really a high schooler? When I Googled her name that's what came up, but how cool is that? Puts my hs poetry triumph (published in TeenPeople) to shame to be featured on poets.org.

It's a gimmick of a poem, but it does make me interested in the story untold. (Which makes it a story! Sorry, bugged about its poetry label - the language is uninteresting, the lines are just a list and the concept is cute, but not terribly unique. It's a short short story.)

Favorite line: "Number of friends, Facebook: 744, real: 9"

Number of friends, Facebook: 744, real: 9

The Damage (Emma Bolden)

Woohoo, a prose poem (by Emma Bolden) I 1) actually like and 2) think is better served in prose than in poetic lines.

I like the prose-y-ness of it because it seems to me like someone just telling a story to a friend. "We were knee-deep in packing paper when...." It's a poem rather than  a paragraph  (well aside from the fact that it calls itself a poem) because the the lines have two meanings (at least) and the language is unique and multi-faceted. She loves not only the broken cherub, but her home and her husband too. They are all ugly, broken (perhaps), but they are hers and she's traveled a long way for them and so loves them nonetheless.

Favorite line: "We'd only spoken through three."

This Compost (Walt Whitman)

This poem by Walt Whitman is fine by itself, but as I read I kept layering on recent news and hipster-ish ideas and ideals.

One) It's a poem, literally, about compost. Back yard farmers, anyone? I admit to being curious about starting my own piles and how neat it would be to have quality soil for new garden beds.

Two) Part of me wanted to remind WW that the Earth cannot take it all in and turn out positive, clean produce. You know how people thought/still think that the oceans can deal with any refuse you put in? A part of me wants to tell him that the Earth is a closed system!

Three) But never mind my additions, his points about the awesomeness of the old/diseased things yielding new, bounty is apt and exciting. Every time I read one of his poems I just get the urge to go on a walk and see things as though for the first time. He reminds me that most everything is awesome.

Favorite line: "It grows such sweet things out of such corruptions"

It grows such sweet things out of such corruptions, - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/23446#sthash.8H97BQDQ.dpuf

Freedom in Ohio (Jennifer Chang)

I don't know how I feel about today's poem by Jennifer Chang. When I read it, I thought it was mostly lame - it seemed written by someone very young. But then the ending (the seriousness, the reflection) got me and the author's note below that? Love her thoughts and her reasoning in prose.

I think part of me is reacting to the illogical connections in the beginning. They put me on edge - "I want a future / making hammocks / out of figs and accidents." That lines makes me roll my eyes something tremendous. Ugh.

But I like the ending - how it sums up her path in life (which makes sense of the birthday reference in the beginning) from "dwelling" - just existing to "fled" - moving on with things (perhaps in non-logical ways, [re: many of the images?]).

Favorite line: "a future quieter / than snow"

a future quieter
than snow.A

I want a future
making hammocks
out of figs and accidents. - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/23456#sthash.QR4pEQZG.dpuf

I abided by
dwelling, thought nothing
of now. And now?
I’m leopard and crane,
all’s fled. - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/23456#sthash.QR4pEQZG.dpuf

Whom You Love (Joseph O. Legaspi)

This poem by Joseph O. Legaspi I find terribly romantic.

There is a rush and a happiness imbued in these unromatic and unrushed lines. I find myself utterly pleased by his constructions and his sentiments. Aw!! I mean, right? How else could one respond to this description: "Crooked grin of ice cream persuasion / When I speak he bursts into seeds & religion / Poetry housed in a harmonica / Line dances with his awkward flair / Rare steaks, onion rings, Maker's on the rocks", but with a smile and a sigh? I love their love. It's so happy and consuming.

 Favorite line: "The man whose throat blossoms with spicy chocolates" [because it is hottt]

The man whose throat blossoms with spicy chocolates - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/23455#sthash.gnU0jFSD.dpuf

rooked grin of ice cream persuasion
When I speak he bursts into seeds & religion
Poetry housed in a harmonica
Line dances with his awkward flair
Rare steaks, onion rings, Maker’s on the rocks - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/23455#sthash.gnU0jFSD.dpuf

rooked grin of ice cream persuasion
When I speak he bursts into seeds & religion
Poetry housed in a harmonica
Line dances with his awkward flair
Rare steaks, onion rings, Maker’s on the rocks - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/23455#sthash.gnU0jFSD.dpuf

rooked grin of ice cream persuasion
When I speak he bursts into seeds & religion
Poetry housed in a harmonica
Line dances with his awkward flair
Rare steaks, onion rings, Maker’s on the rocks - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/23455#sthash.gnU0jFSD.dpuf

Rocket Fantastic [excerpt], Gabrielle Calvocoressi

I don't like today's poem by Gabrielle Calvocoressi.

The language isn't special. The tone is very conversational, which can be a good thing, but in this one it just seems lazy.

Since it's only an excerpt, I suppose I cannot really have an opinion - after all, maybe it all ties together at the end. Dunno, but this gets one big meh from me and does not inspire me to find the whole thing.

Favorite line: "When he's standing in the trees like that and thinks nobody sees him. He's like a stag."

When he's standing in the trees like that and thinks nobody sees him. He's like a stag. - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/23450#sthash.y91BkYWX.dpuf

Learning to Live with Stone (Kelly Cherry)

Learning to Live with Stone by Kelly Cherry.

It's not the most surprising poem. I mean, the image of stone (rigid, unfeeling, immobile, tough) is, honestly, cliche. But I like how you also get a story of 'us' as she talks about stone and how she can perhaps get past the breakup (or whatever unhappiness 'us' is going through).

She starts by seeing stone everywhere - in the landscape, in the relationship, but then sees the many ways around it - how the stones of her relationship can be useful as a stepping stone or as a block of stone to carve - as the raw material of creativity (like what was needed to write this poem).

Favorite line: "Stony face, stony heart"

Another Elegy (Jericho Brown)

Another Elegy by Jericho Brown --

I love the first line: "To believe in God is to love / What none can see." I like how the poem takes that idea to how one can love a person who no longer lives or who has left the relationship.  That their absence does not lesson the love felt.

I like that the poem is an elegy - a written testimony to something that is not there. That creative work is the result of love for the unseen.

Favorite line: "Let a lover go, / Let him . . . die / Without a signature"

To believe in God is to love
What none can see.

On this Very Street in Belgrade (Charles Simic)

Charles Simic's 'On this Very Street in Belgrade' is a short tight poem about N telling 'you' that this very spot was the location for so many epochs in 'your' life. From infancy to mentally unbalanced, homeless adulthood - sometimes your whole life can be contained in one location, one city block. Well, okay, perhaps not fully, but the sentiment is the same - you always seem to begin and end in the same location - and perhaps, in life, nothing else is worth telling - a life that can be summed up in nine lines.

Guh, I don't mean to be so harsh. I mean, it's rather neat that 'your' life can be stripped down to such a tight block of text and yet still give details about 'your' entire life - its beginnings and endings.

Favorite line: "Where you now stood years later / Talking to a homeless dog"

Where you now stood years later
Talking to a homeless dog, - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/23432#sthash.OVjVkJYT.dpufW

Wander (Andrea Hollander)

It's been a long day and wouldn't you know, but on both sites that I used to find the day's poem my options were both monsters - pages and pages long. So my husband was kind and took the shorter (still long) poem, Wander, by Andrea Hollander and read it aloud to me.

It was nice read aloud. The language doesn't dazzle, but it seemed very approachable - country table like. I wonder if there is some form since there was a lot of repetition. Dunno what it would be and I am too tired to look it up.

It didn't really make an impression on me other than it was comfortable. I can't get too excited about this one.

Favorite line: "What we don't know we don't know, / so accept it."

Abyss (Melcion Mateu)

Today's entry is a seascape of a poem by Melcion Mateu.

I love the image of two lovers sleeping, protected from the outside/siren-filled/dangerous world. And not just sleep, but underwater sleep. The sea is all around - it blocks the sounds from outside; it makes all a little hazy.

And it's true, when you are in water and you look up - the sky, which is so familiar, looks alien and remote - other worldly - and you can't understand what anyone above you is saying, even if they are screaming. I respond to the image that sleep with a loved one is like being submerged. The protective embrace.

Favorite line: "perhaps there are cops, and perhaps sirens, / and the air is full of ash, / but our night, our night is submarined."

One Week (A. Van Jordan)

I feel exhausted at the moment, but poem, I must. Today's is One Week by A. Van Jordan.


I like the pacing of this poem, the gentle flow and rhythm.

I don't really know Buster Keaton or his movies, but I like that in the poem it transitions from N's love of Buster Keaton movies to N's love of his partner (or perhaps, a future partner).

Favorite line: "There's nothing more physical / than a man in love"

The Book of Nonsense, 11 (Edward Lear)

I am beyond tired at the moment, so tonight's poem will be the super short and funny limerick #11 (possibly 12) by Edward Lear.

The title of the post on poets.org says that it will be #11, but in the poem itself it says #12, so who knows which it is (or perhaps that is just more of the nonsense!).

There are 3 limericks on the page, but #11 is the only one that made me crack a smile. I love picturing this lady with a chin so big she can play it! Funny to me, at least. Like I said, I'm tired.

Favorite line: "And played several tunes with her chin."

Yours (Daniel Hoffman)

Today's is a lovely, lovely poem (by Daniel Hoffman). It's simple and sweet and sigh-inducing.

It's old fashioned with couplets and nature images and love.

I don't have a lot to say, but that I enjoy the way he writes their coupling. Such strong examples. What a gift this poem is.

Favorite line: "Your love is the weather of my being."

Your love is the weather of my being.

Your love is the weather of my being.

Your love is the weather of my being.

Blizzard (Carl Phillips)

Yesterday was a spring poem, but today were are back to winter with Carl Phillips' poem, Blizzard.

It starts describing a day in a winter and something like betrayal between N and a lover. Then it darkens even more and goes through feelings of trust and longing and losing and wanting. I like this poem (as I like all his poems) for being like the complications of a relationship. What is actually going on in this poem is shrouded in half-spoken images, but the nervous, unsureness of it comes through. You get a sense of a man who wholeheartedly wants to mean something only he can't boil it down enough in order to speak it.

Life is complicated and delicate - that is what I get from his writing and the intricate phrasing he uses. His poetry makes me feel so raw/so gutted, as though I've experienced his heartache, his betrayal. He's truly talented.

Favorite line: "When I say / I trust you, I mean I've considered / that you could betray me"