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"