Posted at 11:36 PM in just fun, poetry | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
Technorati Tags: In Summer, William Carlos Williams
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by Susan Wood
A parrot of irritation sits
on my shoulder, pecks
at my head, ruffling his feathers
in my ear. He repeats
everything I say, like a child
trying to irritate the parent.
Too much to do today: the dracena
that's outgrown its pot, a mountain
of bills to pay and nothing in the house
to eat. Too many clothes need washing
and the dog needs his shots.
It just goes on and on, I say
to myself, no one around, and catch
myself saying it, a ball hit so straight
to your glove you'd have to be
blind not to catch it. And of course
I hope it does go on and on
forever, the little pain,
the little pleasure, the sun
a blood orange in the sky, the sky
parrot blue and the day
unfolding like a bird slowly
spreading its wings, though I know,
saying it, that it won't.
[ via poets.org ]
Posted at 07:38 AM in poetry | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
Technorati Tags: academy of american poets, daily life, poets.org, Susan Wood
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| by Matthew Rohrer | ||
She sends me a text she's coming home the train emerges from underground I light the fire under the pot, I pour her a glass of wine I fold a napkin under a little fork the wind blows the rain into the windows the emperor himself is not this happy |
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Books by Matthew Rohrer available here.
[ The Emperor via Poets.org ]
Posted at 12:13 AM in poetry | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
Technorati Tags: Indie Bound, Matthew Rohrer, The Emperor
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Don't you hear this hammer ring?
I'm gonna split this rock
And split it wide!
When I split this rock
Stand by my side.
••• Langston Hughes
Posted at 09:57 AM in poetry, quotes, yay you | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
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by Devin Johnston
A vacant hour
before the sun—
and with it a valve's
pneumatic hush,
the deep and nautical
clunk of wood,
chanson du ricochet
of rivet gun,
trowel tap,
and bolt drawn—
the moon sets
and water breaks.
Curled within
a warm pleroma,
playing for time,
you finally turn
and push your face
toward November's
glint of frost,
grains of salt,
weak clarities
of dawn.
From Sources, a finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award.
Support good poetry & buy the book!
[ via The Poetry Foundation ]
Posted at 03:13 AM in poetry | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
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Oh, I love this...
Check out The Poetry Store and their Poems by Post feature.
Pay what you want (min. $6) and commission a completely original poem printed on a on a "beautiful piece of paper" and sent to you or the person of your choosing.
If you're in the San Francisco area you may have seen the friendly face behind the little table and typewriter, typing poems by request at craft fairs, stores, and even the main library.
Love it!
Posted at 09:41 AM in poetry | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
Technorati Tags: Poems by Post, The Poetry Store, thepoetrystore.net
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| White Clover | ||
| by Marvin Bell | ||
Once when the moon was out about three-quarters
and the fireflies who are the stars
of backyards
were out about three-quarters
and about three-fourths of all the lights
in the neighborhood
were on because people can be at home,
I took a not so innocent walk
out amongst the lawns,
navigating by the light of lights,
and there there were many hundreds of moons
on the lawns
where before there was only polite grass.
These were moons on long stems,
their long stems giving their greenness
to the center of each flower
and the light giving its whiteness to the tops
of the petals. I could say
it was light from stars
touched the tops of flowers and no doubt
something heavenly reaches what grows outdoors
and the heads of men who go hatless,
but I like to think we have a world
right here, and a life
that isn't death. So I don't say it's better
to be right here. I say this is where
many hundreds of core-green moons
gigantic to my eye
rose because men and women had sown green grass,
and flowered to my eye in man-made light,
and to some would be as fire in the body
and to others a light in the mind
over all their property. | ||
[ via Poets.org ]
Posted at 12:13 AM in poetry | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
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"...and we are put on Earth a little space
that we may learn to bear the beams of love."
- William Blake
Posted at 06:44 PM in poetry | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
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Posted at 07:38 AM in poetry | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
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