For seashells and waves, from Heavenly Questions.
from Fusiturricula Lullaby / by Gjertrud Schnackenberg
A visit to the shores of lullabies,
So far from here, so very far away,
A floor of sand, it doesn’t matter where, And overhead a water-ceilings sways
For Mr. Knox and Dad, from Fox in Socks.
from Fox in Socks / by Dr. Seuss
Through three cheese trees
three free fleas flew.
While these fleas flew,
freezy breeze blew.
Freezy breeze made
these three trees freeze.
For mothers and anyone who’s ever loved a child, from poetryfoundation.org.
from On Mother’s Day / by Grace Paley
Look! more trees on the block
forget-me-nots all around them
ivy lantana shining
and geraniums in the window
For young poets, from Gathering the Tribes.
from Early Night / by Carolyn Forche
This snow is the snow of Urals
swarming upward, ashes, birds
frozen solid into stars.
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.
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.
A spring flower for Day 11, from Ariel.
from Tulips / by Sylvia Plath
And I am aware of my heart: it opens and closes
Its bowl of red blooms out of sheer love of me.
The water I taste is warm and salt, like the sea,
And comes from a country far away as health.
For Day 5 of National Poetry Month, from poetryfoundation.org.
from City At Night / by James Tate
A seer bobs along, oblivious or beguiled.
I look for my reflection in a window:
Goodnight Joe, Goodnight Joe, Goodnight.
For one who, in another era, might have been saved, from poetryfoundation.org.
from Elm / by Sylvia Plath
Clouds pass and disperse.
Are those the faces of love, those pale
irretrievables?
For trails and tales, from The Rooster’s Wife, by Russell Edson.
from Fairytale / by Russell Edson
Out of the distance into the foreground they come, Hansels and Gretels dropping egg shells
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