For your voice, however small, from Helen in Egypt. If the daughter of a mute swan can speak, so can you.
from Helen in Egypt, Book 5: 7 / by H.D.
do you hear me? do I whisper?
there is a voice within me,
listen — let it speak for me.
Month: October 2016
DPF / Levine
For work, from american poets, Fall-Winter 2016.
from The Last Shift / by Philip Levine
Soon the kids
would descend from these lightless houses,
gloved and scarved, on their way to school
with tin boxes of sandwiches and cookies.
DPF / Hugo
For take offs and hopeful landings, from What Thou Lovest Well, Remains American.
from Flying, Reflying, Farming / by Richard Hugo
The aluminum creaks. The wing shudders.
We are flying rough air.
DPF / Vuong
For naming, from Poetry, April 2016.
from Toy Boat / by Ocean Vuong
toy boat
toy leaf dropped
from a toy tree
waiting
DPF / Levertov
For flying cars, from Breathing the Water.
from Poet Power / by Denise Levertov
And he takes both hands
off the wheel and swings round,
glittering with joy: “Benedetti!
Mario Benedetti!”
There are
hallelujas in his voice —
DPF / Neruda
For, as they say, the clouds cried today, finally, and that reminds me of the ocean. From The House in the Sand: Prose Poems by Pablo Neruda.
from The Sea / by Pablo Neruda, translated by Dennis Maloney and Clark M. Zlotchew
The salt of seven leagues, horizontal salt, crystalline salt of the rectangle, stormy salt, the salt of the seven seas, salt.
DPF / Koch
PIA: from September 19, 2016.
For patience and waiting and pausing, as one season currently (barely) hides the next, from One Train.
from One Train / by Kenneth Koch
One doctor, one ecstasy, one illness, one woman, one man
may hide another. Pause to let the first one pass.
You think, Now it is safe to cross and you are hit by the next one. It can be
important
To have waited at least a moment to see what was already there.
DPF / Hearne
For the fathers, from nervous horses.
from My Father Rode Great, Silver Birds / by Vicki Hearne
He rode B-52’s. He went off
Into the blue yonder on
Silver birds that leaped
Plashless into the air, then
Carried him safely home.
DPF / Collins
For baby boys, from Picnic, Lightning.
from Moon / by Billy Collins
It’s as full as it was
in that poem by Coleridge
where he carries his year-old son
into the orchard behind the cottage
and turns the baby’s face to the sky
DPF / Leith
PIA: from October, 2014.
One for the children of October, from An Eyeball in My Garden, edited by Jennifer Cole Judd and Laura Wyncoop.
from Winking Wot Warning / by Debra Leith
The Wots I’ve seen are three feet high,
With pointed feet turned toward the sky.
Daily Poetry Fragments {Semi-Daily} 