For Day 29, from The Wild Iris.
from End of Winter / by Louise Gluck
Over the still world, a bird calls
walking solitary among black boughs.
Poetry
DPF / Akhmatova
For Day 28, my birthday day ten months away, from The Complete Poems of Anna Akhmatova.
from At the Edge of the Sea / by Anna Akhmatova (1889–1966)
Bays cut into the low-lying shore,
all the sails were fleeing out to sea,
And I was drying my salty braid
On a flat rock a mile from land.
DPF / Kocot
For Day 27, from Phantom Pains of Madness.
from The Stars / by Noelle Kocot
I
Wish
I
Could
Shake
Loose
Of
Them
DPF / Taylor
For Day 26, from Knopf Poem-a-Day and Monster Verse.
from The Visitor / by Tess Taylor
It is not trapped: It cannot be let
out.
DPF / Sexton
For Day 25, a controversial girl, from Transformations.
from Rumpelstiltskin / by Anne Sexton
She wept,
of course, huge aquamarine tears.
The door opened and in popped a dwarf.
DPF / Carver
For Day 24 of National Poetry Month and for trout and still waters and writers of fiction who also believe in poetry, from today’s Knopf Poem A Day.
from Poem for Hemingway & W. C. Williams / by Raymond Carver
the other,
medical man,
he knows the chances
of that.
he thinks it fine
that they should
simply hang there
always
in the clear water.
DPF / Ryan
For Day 23, from The Best of It.
from After Zeno / by Kay Ryan
Where is is
when is is was?
I have an is
but where is his?
DPF / Collins
For Day 22, from Picnic, Lighting.
from In the Room of a Thousand Miles / by Billy Collins
My wife hands these poems back to me
with a sigh.
She thinks I ought to be opening up
my aperture to let in
the wild rhododendrons of Ireland
DPF / Heaney
For Day 21, from Station Island.
from A Waking Dream / by Seamus Heaney
When I made the rush to throw salt
on her tail the long treadles of the air
took me in my stride so lofted
beyond exerted breath
DPF / Schnackenberg
For Day 20, from The Throne of Labdacus.
from The God Tunes the Strings: One / by Gjertrud Schnackenberg, b. 1953
Like pieces broken from the moon
Above the citadel of Thebes —
A story scourging the mud surface like a plague,
A Mycenaean folktale told
In a whispering poetry
Daily Poetry Fragments {Semi-Daily} 