For bunnies and their babies everywhere, from The Runaway Bunny.
from The Runaway Bunny / by Margaret Wise Brown
“If you become a crocus in a hidden garden,”
said his mother, “I will be a gardener. And I will find you.”
20th-Century Poetry
DPF / Williams
For I’ve never grown lilies, though it’s our grandmother’s name, but the blue, pink, and dark red geraniums and the dark red, white, and climbing red roses are blooming in the courtyard and front yard, from Selected Poems.
from The Red Lily / by W.C. Williams
By the road, the river
the edge of the woods
–opening in the sun
closing with the dark–
everywhere
Red Lily
DPF / Thomas
For rain and more rain, and I think they’ve declared us officially out of the drought for the moment, from poetryfoundation.org.
from Rain / by Edward Thomas
Rain, midnight rain, nothing but the wild rain
DPF / Tate
For grace, which arrives in all shapes and sizes, from Selected Poems.
from Grace / by James Tate
I was just beginning
to understand when one
who represented the desperate
shrunken state came toward
me, bisecting the whole mass
of concrete into triangles;
and handed me a package.
DPF / Wayland
For children and their dreams, and may some of the good ones come very true, from poetryfoundation.org.
from Big Dreams / by April Halprin Wayland
The scruffy house cat
aches to fly—
she dreams all day of
wings and sky!
DPF / Berryman
For more ars poetica and more rain, please, from Love & Fame.
from Monkhood / by John Berryman
The only souls I feel toward are Henry Vaughn & Wordsworth.
DPF / Darwish
For our California lilac which is, in our valley, blooming, and for the lilac in other parts of the world that may be waiting on the snow to exit the stage, from poetryfoundation.org.
from You Night Is of Lilac / by Mahmoud Darwish, translated by Fady Joudah
The night sits wherever you are. Your night
is of lilac. Every now and then a gesture escapes
from the beam of your dimples, breaks the wineglass
and lights up the starlight. And your night is your shadow—
a fairy-tale piece of land to make our dreams
equal.
DPF / Eliot
For National Poetry Month, which I’m supposing is our month because of Eliot, from The Waste Land.
from The Waste Land / by T.S. Eliot
April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
DPF / Hikmet
For your life, whatever it’s been, and wherever it’s going, from Selected Poetry, translated by Randy Blasing and Mutlu Konuk.
from Autobiography / by Nazim Hikmet (1902-1963)
some people know the names of the stars by heart
DPF / Tufariello
For our poet-nurse, amazing Catherine, from Keeping My Name.
from Chemist’s Daughter / by Catherine Tufariello
Thumping the dinner table, Dad would say
it too was atoms – massed in galaxies
made mainly of empty space.
Daily Poetry Fragments {Semi-Daily} 