For aural photography, from Ireland, and from poetryfoundation.org.
from Ansel Adams’ Aspens / by Ailbhe Darcy
To tiny Ansel Adams, newly arrived on this earth,
the sky is what it is, taut with its isness.
Some time before dawn, the section framed
by interior blackens and brightens and each tree out there
glows with itself, with the certainty of all Ansel Adams’
aspens.
For Tutsis and Hutus, from Crab Orchard Review, Volume 20, No. 2, 20 Years: Writing About, 1995-2015.
from Forgiveness / by Alexander Long
I don’t know what it means, but I try to
Do it, and mean it, and I don’t know
What it means. How is that possible?
For prose poetry, from Fairy Tale Review: The Mauve Issue.
from Love Story / by Monica Drake
‘I love you! I’ve always loved you! I love you forever!’
For quilts and gnawings, from The Best American Poetry 2013, Guest Edited by Denise Duhamel.
from Wintering / by Kevin Young
Mourning, I’ve learned, is just
a moment, many,
grief the long betrothal
beyond.
For finding form, from Villanelles, edited by Annie Finch and Marie – Elizabeth Mali.
from Saturday at the Border / by Hayden Carruth
Ah, far from home and God knows not much fired
By thoughts of when he thought he was inspired,
He writes by writing what he must.
For river paths, from poets.org’s Poem-A-Day today.
from Daughter / by Jon Pineda
all the way to the broken edge
that overlooks the bend,
& hold hands until
we can no longer tell
where the river ends
For carrying infants through the house, from Poetry 180, edited by Billy Collins.
from White Towels / by Richard Jones
I have been studying the difference
between solitude and loneliness,
telling the story of my life
For gratitude, from Poetry 180, edited by Billy Collins. And, here is one link to the rest of the poem:
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/autobiographia/
from Autobiographia / by G.E. Patterson
I had everything and luck: Rings of smoke
blown for me; sunlight safe inside the leaves
of cottonwoods; pure, simple harmonies
of church music
For the end of summer, from Poetry 180, edited by Billy Collins.
from The Summer I Was Sixteen / by Geraldine Connolly
Cherry. Elm. Sycamore. We spread our chenille
blankets across grass, pressed radios to our ears
For first letters, from Poetry 180, edited by Billy Collins.
from Unholy Sonnets / by Mark Jarman
I can say almost anything about you,
O Big Idea, and with each epithet,
Create new reasons to believe or doubt you
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