For fun, from a great athlete.
from [Google] / by Muhammad Ali
Impossible is not a declaration. It’s a dare.
DPF / Szymborska
For the moments before, when the world was one kind of world, some different from what it became during and after those moments, from poetryfoundation.org.
from Photograph from September 11 / by Wislawa Szymborska, translated by Clare Cavanagh
The photograph halted them in life,
and now keeps them
above the earth toward the earth.
DPF / Ammons
For going home, from Worldly Hopes. Okay, apologies that I had ALMONDS on my mind.
from I Went Back / by A.R. Ammons
I went back
to my old home
and the furrow
of each year
plowed like
surf
DPF / Berryman
For infectious John, from Delusions, Etc.
from Lauds / by John Berryman
but ha (haha) I’ve bought myself a hat!
DPF / Kumin
For writing as salvation, from Nurture. I saw Maxine Kumin speak at the Key West Literary Seminar in January of 2010 (kwls.org). She had such a peaceful spirit and calming manner.
from On Being Asked to Write a Poem in Memory of Anne Sexton / by Maxine Kumin (1925-2014)
The elk discards his antlers every spring.
They rebud, they grow, they are growing
an inch a day to form a rococo rack
DPF / Howe
For waiting of all kinds, from The End.
from Lines Out to Silence / by Fanny Howe
How long I’ve waited, I can’t count
Long days in green — eternal advent —
DPF / Shakespeare
For a favorite poem of late autumn, from late summer, and from The Norton Introduction to Literature, Ninth Edition, edited by Alison Booth, J. Paul Hunter, and Kelly J. Mays.
from [That time of year thou mayst in me behold] / by William Shakespeare, 1609
That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
DPF / Koeneke
For a Monday at home, from poetryfoundation.org.
from Labor Day / by Rodney Koeneke
While time for them is a melody
played at long intervals across condominiums
we who are the power
know our systems so much better
now come to this hour outside it
now give it new form on guitar
DPF / Millar
For the long weekend, from poetryfoundation.org.
from Labor Day / by Joseph Millar
No one lays a flat bead of flux over a metal seam
or lowers the steel forks from a tailgate.
Shadows gather inside the sleeve
of the empty thermos beside the sink,
the bells go still by the channel buoy,
the wind lies down in the west
DPF / Benn
For the whisper of possibility, from poetryfoundation.org.
from Fragments 1953 / by Gottfried Benn, translated from the German by Michael Hofmann
those were years when something whispered
Daily Poetry Fragments {Semi-Daily} 