For the month, from poetryfoundation.org.
from DECEMBER [1757] XII Month / by Benjamin Franklin
Would you be well receiv’d where’er you go
Poetry
DPF / Holmes
For firmament and fire, from poetryfoundation.org and 19th-Century American Poetry.
from The Flâneur / by Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr.
I leave my mortal self below,
As up the star-lit stairs I climb,
And still the widening view reveals
In endless rounds the circling wheels
That build the horologe of time.
DPF / Sorley
For the love of running, from poetryfoundation.org.
from The Song of the Ungirt Runners / by Charles Hamilton Sorley (1895–1915)
The winds arise and strike it
And scatter it like sand,
And we run because we like it
Through the broad bright land.
DPF / Spahr
For all the keys on the keyboard which never got so much use as they do now, from poetryfoundation.org.
from Turnt / by Juliana Spahr, b. 1966/Ohio
I texted love you some forty-three times in the last few years.
I texted ❤ some thirty-three times.
Lub u, eighteen times.
Miss you, thirty-eight.
DPF / Matejka
For sparkling things, from poetryfoundation.org.
from Map to the Stars / by Adrian Matejka
There are more kinds of stars
in this universe than salt granules on drive-thru fries. Too many
stars, lessening & swelling with each pedal pump away from
the Value Village
DPF / Anonymous
For wishes, from poetryfoundation.org.
from Star light, star bright / by Anonymous
Star light, star bright,
First star I see tonight
DPF / Nemerov
For trees and all their jobs and multiple lives, from The Complete Poems of Howard Nemerov.
from Learning the Trees / by Howard Nemerov (1920-1991)
And think also how funny knowledge is:
You may succeed in learning many trees
And calling off their names as you go by,
But their comprehensive silence stays the same.
DPF / Muldoon
For a part of the feast, poetryfoundation.org.
from The Loaf / by Paul Muldoon
When I put my ear to the hole I’m suddenly aware
of spades and shovels turning up the gain
all the way from Raritan to the Delaware
with a clink and a clink and a clinky-click.
DPF / Stewart
For birds, bones, and wings, from poetryfoundation.org.
from The Waiting Room / by Christine Stewart
We are waiting, grandmother and I, for the white bird.
The black bird grows larger above our heads,
Its immense wings spreading as it dives down
DPF / Kaminsky
For an amazing poet I missed in Iowa City by a few hours, from Poetryfoundation.org.
from Deaf Republic: 14 / by Ilya Kaminsky
thank you for my deafness, Lord, such fire
from a match you never lit.
Daily Poetry Fragments {Semi-Daily} 