For the day before the cruelest month and National-Poetry-Month Eve, from poetryfoundation.org.
from Spring Day / by Amy Lowell
The sky is blue and high. A crow flaps by the window, and there is a whiff of tulips and narcissus in the air.
For the day before the cruelest month and National-Poetry-Month Eve, from poetryfoundation.org.
from Spring Day / by Amy Lowell
The sky is blue and high. A crow flaps by the window, and there is a whiff of tulips and narcissus in the air.
For lifting spirits, from The Eternal Ones of the Dream.
from Behind the Milk Bottle / by James Tate
As for pillagers, think twice:
behind the milk bottle another milk bottle
and a nest of unruly ribbons
and a ghost who barks at airplanes.
For something to make anyone smile, from The Trouble with Poetry.
from The Introduction / by Billy Collins
Wagga Wagga is in New South Wales.
Rhyolite is that soft volcanic rock.
What else?
Yes, meranti is a type of timber, in tropical Asia I think,
and Rahway is just Rahway, New Jersey.
The rest of the poem should be clear.
I’ll just read it and let it speak for itself.
Because he always brightens my day no matter how dark, this one’s for and from Berryman, from The Dream Songs.
from Dream Song #112 / by John Berryman
for every word she utters everywhere
shows her good soul, as true as a healed bone,–
being part of what I meant to say.
For the day and the centennial of the poem’s title event, from poetryfoundation.org.
from Easter, 1916 / by William Butler Yeats
For a hundred years ago tomorrow, from poetryfoundation.org.
from Easter 1916 / by William Butler Yeats
And what if excess of love
Bewildered them till they died?
For a funeral day, from poetryfoundation.org.
from The Lady of Shalott / by Alfred Lord Tennyson
For home, from poetryfoundation.org.
from Home Movies: A Sort of Ode / by Mary Jo Salter
Here
For one of the wonderful poetry aunts, from The Complete Poems.
from At the Fishhouses / by Elizabeth Bishop
For getting a toe x-ray today, from poetryfoundation.org.
from The X-Ray / by Heidy Steidlmayer
I could imagine a lanthorn
as it swallows its strange light and gleams
from within as if reborn
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