Low Tide (Alan Shapiro)

Low Tide by Alan Shapiro

A visually interesting poem. I like the scene he tells and the long, narrow stanzas he uses - it is reminiscent of the single pathway that he's walking.

As he talks of remaking the landscape, it's very egotistical, which is perhaps telling of the poet or of humankind, in general.

Favorite line: "which makes the water / rushing in as my foot lifts / another ocean rushing out / as my foot falls"

Lift Ev'ry Voice and Sing (James Weldon Johnson)

Lift Ev'ry Voice and Sing by James Weldon Johnson

A frank poem for this Thanksgiving-season. It's well crafted, with meter and rhyme. It is honest in its praise. I find that refreshing.

Favorite line: "Lest our hearts, drunk with the wine of the world, we forget Thee"

The Students (Mark Halliday)

Again, The Students by Mark Halliday

I don't like it as much as I did yesterday, but I do still think this poem is a apt reflection of college life. It describes well the sense of importance ('I'm learning important things, here!') as it mires in the passage of time spent doing mindless things (walking to the cafeteria, watching news).

The circles (or the concept of) that are mentioned at the end of the poem have to do with students, learning and life. The poem begins with a life's summary - "The students eat something and then watch the news, / a little, then go to sleep." and ends with a memory and some vague things that they have learned (the concept of circles and a famous artist).

I guess this poem is trying to push you to live more purposefully. Don't be a student forever. Don't just sustain, learn a little then die ("The students eat something and then watch the news, / a little, then go to sleep.").

Favorite line: "Noticing themselves at the sink"

The Students (Mark Halliday)

The Students by Mark Halliday

This poem, I think, mirrors college life. Perhaps it's about nothing. Just cafeteria happenings and unvarnished nouns attempting to be something profound. But then again, maybe it is profound. Maybe it shows how learning is often accomplished - how you suddenly get what someone said or did years before without knowing how or when you understood it. How when you read a poem, you get a sense of it without knowing exactly what path you took through the thing.

Eh, this, I think, is not what I want to say about this poem, but my mind is not latching on (whoo, tiredness), so I think I will come back to this one again tomorrow.

Favorite line: "The students eat something and then watch the news, / a little, then go to sleep."

Mediterranean (Sudeep Sen)

Mediterranean by Sudeep Sen

This poet's name has a nice cadence to it. This poem is neat for its use of memory keys. When remembering a place or a a past experience, you don't tend to recall the whole in neat paragraphs. I like how color is the key for this poem. Each stanza is very strongly rooted in a color and its corresponding memory.

I like this poem for its sense of place and, more importantly, for its sense of how memory works and evokes.

Favorite line: "Sahar’s silk blouse / gold and sheer"

Poems for birthdays

It's my birthday and I am very tired, so today's will be a cheat. I give you an essay on birthday poetry from poets.org and the observation that, mostly, poets are depressed when they consider bdays. But whatever, grumpy gusses, bdays are loads of fun. Anyone know of a non-depressing poem for birthdays?

Veterans of the Seventies (Marvin Bell)

Veterans of the Seventies by Marvin Bell

A poem for next week's Veterans' Day. I don't have a strong sense of war history, so I am confused as to which war the veterans of the poem are from. 70s (from the title) make me think Vietnam, but the repeated word 'foxhole' makes me think WWI. Though I suppose there were probably foxholes in Vietnam as well.

It seems like they are living together in some kind of group home. Perhaps it is a psychiatric hospital? They 'went stateside without leaving the war'. That constant feeling of being at war accounts for their need to live behind a self-made fence with alarms ( 'behind fence wires  / strung through tin cans').

It's a common story - how some soldiers are unable to leave the war behind, but this telling is quite good for its brevity and density.

Favorite line: "They had the look of men who held their breath / and now their tongues."

alternate names for black boys (Danez Smith)

alternate names for black boys by Danez Smith

A modern poem. It's in list form which doesn't bug as much as Buzzfeed's incessant 'listicles'. It talks about 17 alternative names for black boys, drawn from recent news stories like Travyon Martin and Michael Brown.

What I find neat is that in a poem which comes from contemporary injustices and starts with war imagery 'smoke' and 'archnemesis' is the can't-be-hid consistency of light-filled images.  In 17 lines, I quick-counted 12 light images - 'spark', 'starlight', 'kindling', 'brilliant', etc. Even the last word is a human, hopeful one - 'breath'.

Favorite line: "16. prayer who learned to bite & sprint"

Go, lovely Rose (Edmund Waller)

Go, lovely Rose by Edmund Waller

This old poem is really quite lovely. I usually find older love poems to be antiquated and uninteresting. However, this one is nice in that he is talking not to his love but to a rose he sees. He is dictating a message that the rose should send on to his love.

But I don't get the sense that he plans on plucking and giving the rose to the girl. It seems more like diary-writing. I wonder if they've ever spoken or if this is totally one-sided.

Unrequited love is often written about though this rendition is particularly well-done and sweet. *Hint, hint* this would make for a great poem to give to your girlfriend / crush. (if she'd be into that 1600s-thing, heheh)

Favorite line: "Tell her that wastes her time and me"

October (Bobbi Katz)

October by Bobbi Katz

It's okay. I should have perhaps kept looking for an actually spooky poem or one that better mimics the season, but after looking a teensy bit I couldn't find a better one. Which is not to say that I hated this poem. It's got some nice imagery and it does hit the high points of the month. However, it seems to me that it lacks any fervor or worthwhile feeling. I don't get a sense of calm or of terror or of beauty from the thing. Maybe it's just me though.

What do you think ?

Favorite line:  "and sends the day / to bed / before supper"

Catapult (Kimberly Johnson)

Catapult by Kimberly Johnson

Is actually about a catapult. Huh. Beauty in destruction and all that.

I am, however, kind of unimpressed by it. It's nice, but not special. I, at times, found it humorous, which I'm not sure is intentional. It just seems to take itself seriously whereas I found humor in its  praising of the "vat of rendered fat" and "flaming haybales". I mean, really, how could I not?

What do you think?

Favorite line: "as if hungering for the earth"

Happiness (Paisley Rekdal)

Happiness by Paisley Rekdal

I stumbled upon today's poem, through an impossible to trace collection of clicks, but I am so glad I did. I like its calmness, its steady eye. Sadness is a thing; beauty is a thing; gardens are a thing. All are worthy. Be proud of what your craft does. Find happiness in the doing. Find happiness which stems from unhappiness.

Favorite line:  "I can wait longer than sadness. I can wait longer / than your grief."

A Letter in October (Ted Kooser)

An appropriately timed poem: A Letter in October by Ted Kooser.

Well, firstly, I wonder a letter to whom. But then, I turn to thinking about what he has written in the letter. I agree that October, that fall is a time to be indoors and be self-reflective.

There are a lot of neat connotations with light and dark and the deer and age. Despite its common language, I think that the middle stanzas are not as clear as they could be. They seem muddled. Or perhaps, it just gives another excuse for deep contemplations in this colder, darker month.

Favorite line: "Dawn comes later and later now, / and I"

Holding Posture (Howard Altmann)

Holding Posture by Howard Altmann

Maybe it's because I was never the biggest fan of history class, but this poem by Howard Altmann is uninteresting.

It describes history. It's mildly clever, but I don't see the point in it. There is no magic or myth in the descriptors. History is, apparently, everything ("It keeps time and loses time, /knows its place and doesn’t know its place." etc., etc.) All encompassing and dull, no?

Favorite line: "afternoons it naps"

Mist Everywhere (Nate Pritts)

I hate the new layout of this website, which I used to use all the time for this blog. However, after Googling "poem" tonight, it and this poem were the first to come up (and you, perhaps, thought I used more advanced means to find the quotidian poem, ha).

It's a lovely poem. The thing does seem shrouded in mist, per the title.  But then as you progress, the mist clears and then as the boat does from the cut tree, truths emerge. In life, you move about aimlessly, seemingly in a mist. It's hard, it's confusing, it's lonely. But the poem advises, turn to your art, turn to that which only you can see and do and then "nothing will block [your] way".

Favorite line: "But I pray wrong, selfishly"

The Coming of Light (Mark Strand)

The Coming of Light by Mark Strand

It is not too late, this little poem is saying. It has some very pleasant images and I like the brevity of the thing. It is a rather tried-and-true message. Does this poem contribute something new?

Favorite line: "stars gather, dreams pour into your pillows"

45 Mercy Street (Anne Sexton)

45 Mercy Street by Anne Sexton

Depression. She's searching for the crystal-clear Mercy Street (is almost groan worthy, but  based on the originality of the rest of her words, it simply seems clarion, instead of cliche).

It's a trip of a poem. Mildly confusing, entrapping and in the end you get fish in your purse. Life is funny in that way, no?

Favorite line: "and this is no dream / just my oily life / where the people are alibis / and the street is unfindable for an / entire lifetime"

Centrifugal (Douglas S. Jones)

Centrifugal by Douglas S. Jones

I like this sweet, short poem. It's pretty explicit, sets the scene well and uses common language in refreshing ways. Not challenging, but good, you know?

A satisfying poem - just like this image of Spiderman spinning along.

Favorite line: "as the tire pulls free the stitches of last night’s sewing"

haiku #62 (Scott Helmes)

haiku #62 by Scott Helmes

Visual poetry, huh? While I agree that this is art, I'm hard pressed to call it poetry. And while I like (and appreciate) what is written in the paragraph of explanatory text, shouldn't this art, this poem be able to stand on its own?

Favorite line: " " (I like the bottom strip best, for its collection of letters and the shape of the torn paper.)

Moths (Caleb Klaces)

Moths by Caleb Klaces

Translation
Writing --> reading
Object (moth) --> its observers (one who is fascinated, one who has a phobia)
Person --> anyone who comes upon them

It's all the same --> perception/difference/sameness. Every observation is made by someone who brings their own interpretation based on their past experiences. These are their alone, therefore their interpretation is also their own. While the author (who was fascinated with moths) may have meant one thing, the translator (have a moth phobia) means something else. The translation will never be exact since it is an interpretation by one person of another's ideas. 

As this poem (in a rather lame, rushed way) points out, that even you "must include a version / of almost everyone, lots of versions of some people". You are interpreted by others as you create versions of those you meet. 

There is a lot that this poem hints at, but I think it should have been longer or sharper in order to more adequately deal with it all. Or perhaps, I am dealing with my own "moth" here unsupported by what the poet was writing. Lost in translation, indeed. 

Favorite line: "Her moths, the ones that were too aptly named, / meant too much"

Times Haiku

Lololol, this website is great. According to its About page, these haiku were grabbed from various New York Times articles by an algorithm based on syllable count (but selected for the website by humans).

One. It's a neat trick to pull the right syllable count from text.
Two. It makes for an argument regarding the science of poetry.
Three. It's fun. See, folks, poetry is fun!
Four. It reinforces the fact that poetry surrounds us, all the time, in all places.
Five. It makes me wonder if at some future point, the human editors can be disregarded completely. An advanced program could learn and might be able to figure out from the human's early selections what makes something worthy, what makes a poem good. (And what would constitute that algorithm I'm curious to see.)

Or perhaps that is too science-fiction-y and this website is an amusing 5 minutes of your Internet-time and nothing more.

But it is cool, no?

My favorite haiku on the front page:

Crystals of sugar
cascaded because, of course,
the Duck has no lips.

Of course. Thanks, bot.

Singles Cruise (Kathryn Maris)

Okay, I confess - I do not understand why the poem Singles Cruise by Kathryn Maris is an accomplished enough poem to be published (!) in Poetry (!) and prominently displayed on the Poetry Foundation website (!).

It's an incredibly dull read. The language is prose-y - the kind of language you'd find a manual or work document. It describes the most commonly found singles on those cruises as those who love either someone who has died or someone who does not return their affection or that they are the person whose affections for a loved one have waned. And since they are all partnered with an impossible match, they keep coming on singles cruises, sustaining the industry.

Is this poem supposed to be (darkly) funny? Perhaps for some, though not for me.

If you like this poem, will you let me know why? I seriously don't see it. But, based on its publication, I get that it's nominally good. I just wonder why/how.


Favorite line: "Some, like the recently widowed, were attached to ghosts."

Fragment 8: Thicker than rain-drops on November thorn (Samuel Taylor Coleridge)

Why this "poem's" title is actually longer than the thing itself! While the Poetry Foundation classed it as a poem, I wonder if the poet did himself.

Can there be a one-line poem? This one line has interesting language, is descriptive, sets a mood and causes me to wonder what is being referred to (thicker than what?). I suppose that all could be said to be enough. I do, however, think it needs more of a framework to be considered a true poem. While, as in William Carlos Williams' earlier poem, some work should be required of the reader, this poem takes that to an extreme. Too much so, I think.

What do you think?

Favorite (bit of the) line: "November thorn"

The Epistemology of Cheerios (Geffrey Davis)

Epistemology of Cheerios by Geffrey Davis

Epistemology is "the theory of knowledge; the investigation of what distinguishes justified belief from opinion". (from Google)

Thanks Geffrey for teaching me this word. Your poem gives a good example/definition too. I imagine new parenthood to be a path where you constantly have to make your way between justified belief and opinion. Babies grow; parents learn not to stress so much. Parenthood and childhood (life, in general) are all laboratories of epistemology.

I'd be more interested in hearing about why, after all that living, some people still haven't thought through their beliefs. Haven't determined between justibly held ones and blind opinion.

Favorite line: "and I let him / go for it"

Sonnet in Seach of an Author (William Carlos Williams)

I'd never heard of this poem by William Carlos Williams. My loss. I like it rather a lot.

It tells of a scene - two nudes under a tree and then lists, in building intensity, how each object that he filled his scene with in the first half of the poem can be described with the same word. To continue, the same word, but each telling brings to mind a different description. The odor of  pine needles is distinct from the odor of a man. The reader brings their own knowledge, their own interpretation to fill in the scene.

This poem, which in its title admits how it it searching for an author, makes each reader that missing one. Does that make this poem an ars poetica? Or an ars all-of-writing-ica?

God, I think I love this poem.

Favorite line: "a sonnet might be made of it"

Halloween Party (Kenn Nesbitt)

I don't really like this poem much, though I did click on it first, so talk about it I shall. A poem for Fall: Halloween Party by Kenn Nesbit.

It's well composed (4-lines apiece with a set rhyme scheme AABB). It sounds like a young person wrote it. That's not a diss, but reflective of the speaker of the poem.

But even though it's fine and all, it's very bland. It's got no bite (haha! Get it? Cuz he dressed as a vampire. Ha!). I read it a minute ago and already it's slipping from my mind. Cute, I suppose, but exceedingly unexciting. Pat on the head for the form, but, overall, this is a yawn.

Favorite line: "I'm dressed up like Dracula. Man, I look cool!"

One Perfect Rose (Dorothy Parker)

One Perfect Rose by Dorothy Parker

I learned tonight that Dorothy Parker was Anerican. Funny, I'd always assumed she was British. Dunno why exactly. But I can see her wit as a smarter, cleverer Carrie Bradshaw -with all her sharp utterances about romance/and the modern age.

The poem tonight is a prime example. Romance is nice and all, but what she seems to want is pure practicality. A limo would make for a better present, no?

The poem's language also mirrors that want. No flowery poofy language here. It's very prosey.

She doesn't say that a rose is bad, per se, but she seems bored with its ubiquity and lack of pizzazz. Limos for all!

Favorite line: "One perfect limousine, do you suppose?"

The Eel (Ogden Nash)

The desktop es ocupado tonight, so in honor of me having to type this out on my ipad, tonight's poem will be the (blessedly) short and witty The Eel by Ogden Nash.

It's funny. It describes an eel without saying anything about the animal. All those  "s" sounds. Oh, and hey, it's three lines long. Eel only has three letters in it. O.o

Ok, that's enough analyzing of this diddy. It's cute. It entertains. Done and done.

Favorite line: "I don't mind eels"

No poem, just talk

I went looking for a poem tonight, but I'm feeling tired so every poem I came across just made my head feel floaty. I know I like straight forward writing, that "poetic" language bugs me as does non-concrete description.

I think it's good to know what you like, but I'm curious to know how people enjoy poetry written in those two ways I tend to dislike. For instance, did you truly like the Coleridge poem listed below? What about it did you love?

How can I better learn to appreciate work I don't instantly have a fondness for?

August, 1914 (Vera Mary Brittain)

August, 1914 by Vera Mary Brittain

World War One began 100 years ago and this poem was written soon after it began. It's a nicely composed poem - each stanza is three  lines. The rhymes are linked through the stanzas. The middle standalone rhyme in one stanza matches two lines in the subsequent stanza. This even works for the last stanza's non rhyming word. It matches the two rhymed lines in the first stanza. It's circular.  (It's terza rima.)

And that's a nice trick. And so is war? Dunno if find merit in her argument that God makes war to help redeem humankind. Maybe she's being sarcastic?  The poem feels better to me if it's dark in humor, but if she/it are supposed to be straight laced then I guess it's not for me.

Favorite line: "And brought destruction's lurid reign"

Sonnet: On Receiving a Letter Informing Me of the Birth of a Son (Samuel Taylor Coleridge)

Sonnet: On Receiving a Letter Informing Me of the Birth of a Son by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Obviously, from the title, this is a sonnet. It's 14 lines and rhymes, but it's not the sonnet I'm most familiar with (Shakespearean) since the rhymes are patterned differently.

Can I bring my modern sensibilities to this 1700s/1800s poem and think less of the father - that he doesn't know his kid is born until he gets a letter about it. Let's pretend he's off to war and a letter is the only way to tell him the news. Yes, let's go with that.

His response to the news is conflicted. He's very torn up over it, it seems and instantly turns to prayer. Doesn't sound like praise though. I don't get the sense that he's happy (as he prays, he "inly felt/No heavenly visitation upwards draw/My feeble mind, nor cheering ray impart.").

Perhaps he's just overwhelmed and being honest. He first turns to prayer, but is too overwhelmed with emotion; he cannot make a spiritual connection. He is later (in writing the poem) better able to communicate and prays again. This time he is able to get out his wish for his son's redemption.

Favorite line: "inly felt"

I am Trying to Break Your Heart (Kevin Young)

The title of this poem by Kevin Young reminds me of a Wilco song. The images within kind of remind me of the interior of an Urban Outfitters. Is this a poem centered in the early 2000s? As I read, I imagined that this was N's bitter rant after a bad breakup at university.

Urban Outfitter objets d'art

Ha, yep. I totally call it (or least, I totally would like to) - from the Wilco-inspired title to the ironic use of taxidermy to describe (a lost) love to the bits of antiquated language (definitely an English major, this one). Okay, maybe not, but I can make the case for it. I do enjoy poetry for its malleability.

I enjoy this poem for its sense of time and place, its use of metaphor and its standout lines - namely, this one which coalesces all of the poem's metaphors and angst into one crystal line:

Favorite line: "Loneliness is a science—"

Dog and Snow (Paul S. Piper)

A quick one tonight, as I'm composing this on an iPad. Dog and Snow by Paul S. Piper.

It's an easy read and sweet. It annoys me with its proper noun/names for the players of the piece: Dog and Master. Just bugs, is all.

I don't really care for this poem. It has no emotional connection for me. No fun language or excellent description. It's boring. I don't even get a sense of what the dog looks like.  Though, I suppose, that's purposeful what with the given generic name/title "Dog".

I think it's dull, but what do you think? (Vote below!)

Favorite line: "Dog sees white. Arctic / light"

Stairway to the Stars (Ron Padgett)

Today's is kind of related to yesterday's poem, I think. Today we've got 'Stairway to the Stars' by Ron Padgett.

The opening bit cracked me up since it is like so much of poetry. The King (or, the writer) makes this grand statement and even though its meaning is shrouded, the audience is still expected to soak it all in question-less. "No one dared ask what it meant.", but the King "seemed satisfied by the beauty" and simply left the confused people behind. Ha, and isn't that replicated a million different ways by a million different authors.

Or even in billions of ways as each person is a King in their own right since we all attempt to share what we find meaningful, but are, at times, unable to do so. Perhaps, sharing viewpoints and thoughts is for naught. Since as this poem says, the King, his life and his thoughts, in the end, all "flew away to a place in history / where nothing mattered."

So then, I guess, why does anyone write anything? Selfishness is my first guess. "Cuz, I want to" This poem may be backing me up with its last line: "And then there was one." If, in the end, all that remains is yourself then doesn't that make you your most important, most ardent fan?

Favorite line: "He seemed satisfied by the beauty / of the logic that had arrived"

Reflective (A. R. Ammons)

Today's poem by A. R. Ammons is very clever, cute and short.

I like the word 'mirror' and the title 'reflective' and how they are physically reinforced by the language used and the way the lines/stanzas are cut.

I like the idea contained that everything is a reflection of something else and most clearly, is a reflection of you. I adore how the poem begins with the line "I found" and then describes how nothing was truly discovered. That what was "found" had been part of the author all along.

Of course, I, in reading this poem, am only discovering shades of myself. My "talk" about this poem is, of course, made up of my own interpretations and inclinations and in the end I am simply reinforcing my own ideas.

Ah, but so it goes. (comment!, plz - more voices = more viewpoints, less mirroring)

Favorite line: "and that / mirror / looked in at / a mirror"

Fathers and Daughters (Amanda Strand)

Let's begin again, shall we? I've been having a rough kind of year and a return to poems, to beauty, to writing and thinking beckons and, hopefully, soothes.

Today's poem will be Fathers and Daughters by Amanda Strand.

This poem appeals to me with its language and its pathos. The shock and grief were palpable despite the poem's brevity and lack of histrionics.

The scene she paints upon leaving the hospital ("The snow fell./His truck in the barn,/his boots by the door,/flagpoles empty./It took a long time for the taxi to come.") is the heart of the poem. I felt such a sadness at those lines - the winter scene; the fact that the taxi took a long time to arrive. God, that line about the taxi is fantastic. She's so lost at his death and the ability to move on will be slow in coming.

And then the last: " “Where to?” he said./“My father just died,” I said./As if it were a destination." It's a bit pat, a nice round ending, but still it contains the sadness she reflected earlier in the poem. It makes me think 'no, for you it's not a destination, but it will waylay you for a while'. Which makes me think about destinations, about finality, about death (being the end, a resting place).

This poem to me is not so much about the grand concepts of death and permanence as much as it is a personal poem of a private (though universally shared) sadness. But still, I responded positively to it because 1) it's an emotionally-charged poem and 2), it allowed me to branch off and consider much larger, impossible-to-resolve concepts.

Favorite line: "It took a long time for the taxi to come."