For lost fathers, for ours would have been 83 now, had he just skipped or flown over this day 26 years ago, from Selected Poems.
from The Lost Pilot / by James Tate
However frightening, I would
discover you, and I would not
turn you in; I would not make
you face your wife, or Dallas, or
the co-pilot, Jim. You
could return to your crazy
orbiting, and I would not try
to fully understand what
it means to you.
For the world’s oldest animal is watching, from Tsim Tsum.
from The Oldest Animal Writes a Letter Home / by Sabrina Orah Mark
You did no me once, didn’t you? Please send byrds.
For Irish Medieval Literature, from Sweeney Astray, Heaney’s version of Buile Suibhne.
from Sweeney Astray / by Seamus Heaney
The blackthorn is a jaggy creel
stippled with dark sloes;
green watercress in thatch on wells
where the drinking blackbird goes.
PIA: from December 2016, for cherubs aren’t just needed in December, from poetryfoundation.org.
from December / by Roger Pfingston
Lodged tight for days
in a corner of the wall,
ladybug can’t resist the tree
PIA: January 2014
from The Lost Pilot / by James Tate
and you, passing over again,
fast, perfect, and unwilling
to tell me that you are doing
well
For it seems like a good time for this one, from The Lorax.
from The Lorax / by Dr. Seuss
At the far end of town
where the Grickle-grass grows
and the wind smells slow-and-sour when it blows
and no birds ever sing excepting old crows…
is the Street of the Lifted Lorax.
For Mary. We will miss you so much. While I can’t exactly condone my own action, I looked for a poem to commemorate Mary Tyler Moore’s passing today at 80, and not finding what I wanted, I came back to this; so, please forgive, but this one’s by me. The complete poem is also here: https://michelepizarroharman.com/about/. From Sycamore Review, Winter/Spring 1997, where it was originally published. The journal’s current website may be found at: http://www.sycamorereview.com/.
from The Mary Tyler Moore Show: Ninth Episode / by Michele Pizarro Harman
Return to the place of new-driven snow. Become again Mary, Scarlett, Eve.
For one of our Elizabeths and for mauve countries and hemispheres, from No More Masks: An Anthology of Twentieth-Century American Women Poets, edited by Florence Howe.
from For Elizabeth Bishop / by Sandra McPherson
Your smaller admirer off to school,
I take the globe and roll it away; where
On it now is someone like you?
For the academy in all its versions, from No More Masks: An Anthology of Twentieth-Century American Women Poets, edited by Florence Howe.
from A Poem for my Most Intelligent 10:30 AM Class / Fall 1985 / by Sonia Sanchez
i had come to this room from other
rooms. footsteps walking from
under my feet. and i saw
your faces eavesdropping on shadows
For charts and small seas, from No More Masks: An Anthology of Twentieth-Century American Women Poets, edited by Florence Howe.
from I Might Have Sung of the World / by Sara Teasdale
I might have sung of the world
And said what I heard them say
Of the vast and passing dream
Of today and yesterday.
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