For you, dear poetry followers (dpf’s)! who have taken the time to choose to follow, I hope you will not mind me morphing this poetry space from daily to weekly and for not closing a door, but opening a new kind of window, from Selected Poems.
from 5 / by e. e. cummings
For whatever we lose (like a you or a me)
it’s always ourselves we find in the sea
For a belated day and for Dr. Williams, from Poem A Day, Volume 2, the September 22 entry.
from Waiting / by William Carlos Williams
Let us see, let us see!
What did I plan to say to her
when it should happen to me
as it has happened now?
For dogs, from Copper Nickel 25.
from It’s Not About Figuring out What We Want, But About Figuring Out What’s Worth Wanting / by John Gallaher
The other day my dog, our dog, the family dog, looked back at me
from the landing on the stairs. It’s as far up as he’s allowed to go.
For similes and sometimes feeling minuscule, from poetryfoundation.org.
from Simile at the Side of the Road / by Mark Cox
In photographs of our galaxy
it looks like someone’s just finished
stirring us with a long wooden spoon
For fairy tale and for this time of year from a favorite poem and from Poems 1962-2012.
from All Hallows / by Louise Glück
For a busy week and for yesterday, from Poem-A-Day/poets.org.
from The War in Colors / by Dunya Mikhail
The digital map on the wall
displays the American wars
in colors:
Iraq in purple
Syria in yellow
Kuwait in blue
Afghanistan in red
Vietnam in green.
For a Central Valley poet, from poetryfoundation.org.
from Elegy with a Chimneysweep Falling Inside It / by Larry Levis
For gathering the passing moments, from the September 16th entry of Poem A Day, Volume 2.
from Miniature / by Yannis Ritsos, translated by Edmund Keeley
…with its little yellow wheels of lemon
parked for so many years on a side street with unlit lamps,
then a small song, a little mist, and then nothing?
For Homecoming day & night, from Poem A Day, Volume 2.
from Ashboughs / by Gerard Manley Hopkins
They touch heaven, tabour on it; how their talons sweep
The smouldering enormous winter welkin!
For a day late, from poetryfoundation.org.
from The Milk One / by Anthony Madrid
He spoke Miaow. He spoke Moo and Gnu and Ha.
He spoke three kinds of Chickenhawk and the thirty dialects of Baa.
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Daily Poetry Fragments {Semi-Daily} 