For some rainy days like today are made for fairy tales, even these, from Transformations.
from Cinderella / by Anne Sexton
Once
the wife of a rich man was on her deathbed
and she said to her daughter Cinderella:
Be devout. Be good. Then I will smile
down from heaven in the seam of a cloud.
For, when life gives you lemons, don’t make lemonade. Take the time to experience the difficulty, to fully embrace it long enough to see its meaning for your world, from one of my poets to whom I always turn in times of confusion or sadness, from Ariel.
from Wintering / by Sylvia Plath
Will the hive survive, will the gladiolas
Succeed in banking their fires
To enter another year?
What will they taste of, the Christmas roses?
The bees are flying. They taste the spring.
For our many teachers, from Oblique Prayers.
from Last Night’s Dream / by Denise Levertov
I sing tree, making green
school after school of leaf-fish
flicker between the shade and sunlight
in nets of branch,
urging the students to see, to see —
For Henry and John, from 77 Dream Songs.
from 77 Dream Songs: 13 / by John Berryman
God bless Henry. He lived like a rat,
with a thatch of hair on his head
in the beginning.
Henry was not a coward. Much.
He never deserted anything; instead
he stuck, when things like pity were thinning.
For the welcome cold and rainy day, from poetryfoundation.org.
from A January Dandelion / by George Marion McClellan
For the week, from Poetry, December 2016.
from Poem for the New Year / by Devin Johnston
what have I read
how many words
what facts
statistics biometrics
what data aggregation
what news
of wins and losses
For saying goodbye to family after the holidays, including goodbye to my sweet, wee little sis, from poetryfoundation.org.
from sisters / by Lucille Clifton
For the season, from http://www.41051.com/xmaslyrics/hollyjolly.html.
from A Holly Jolly Christmas / by Johnny Marks
Oh ho
the mistletoe
hung where you can see
PIA: from December 31, 2014.
For the passing year, from The Best American Poetry, 2014.
from In My Last Past Life / by Hailey Leithauser
a forest and love and a river, and grief
was a ghost hidden green in the leaves,
an echo off cliffs that bound back the sea
For Mr. Merrill, who I met once at a Los Angeles performance of his play which may have been The Image Maker: A Play in One Act; this poem is a concrete poem in its proper form, a poem in the shape of a Christmas tree. Here is one place in which the poem may be found: http://onwardspoetry.blogspot.com/2009/02/christmas-tree-by-james-merrill.html.
from Christmas Tree / by James Merrill
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