Poetry poems
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The Task: Book VI. -- The Winter Walk at Noon
© William Cowper
There is in souls a sympathy with sounds;
And as the mind is pitchd the ear is pleased
Spare Parts by Trish Dugger: American Life in Poetry #153 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006
© Ted Kooser
In this endearing short poem by Californian Trish Dugger, we can imagine âwhat if?â? What if we had been given âa baker's dozen of hearts?â? I imagine many more and various love poems would be written. Here Ms. Dugger, Poet Laureate of the City of Encinitas, makes fine use of the one patched but good heart she has.
Spare Parts
We barge out of the womb
with two of them: eyes, ears,
Advice
© Walter Savage Landor
TO write as your sweet mother does
Is all you wish to do.
Play, sing, and smile for others, Rose!
Let others write for you.
They Sit Together on the Porch by Wendell Berry: American Life in Poetry #68 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet L
© Ted Kooser
Here is a marvelous little poem about a long marriage by the Kentucky poet, Wendell Berry. It's about a couple resigned to and comfortable with their routines. It is written in language as clear and simple as its subject. As close together as these two people have grown, as much alike as they have become, there is always the chance of the one, unpredictable, small moment of independence. Who will be the first to say goodnight?
They Sit Together on the Porch
Eclogue:Composed at Cannes, December 9th, 1867
© Edward Lear
J--See Catherine comes! To her, to her,
Let each his several miseries refer;
She shall decide whose woes are least or worst,
And which, as growler, shall rank last or first.
Barbershop Quartet, East Village Grille by Sebastian Matthews: American Life in Poetry #207 Ted Koos
© Ted Kooser
People singing, not professionally but just singing for joy, it's a wonderful celebration of life. In this poem by Sebastian Matthews of North Carolina, a father and son happen upon a handful of men singing in a cafe, and are swept up into their pleasure and community.
Barbershop Quartet,
Green-Striped Melons by Jane Hirshfield : American Life in Poetry #227 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureat
© Ted Kooser
Jane Hirshfield, a Californian and one of my favorite poets, writes beautiful image-centered poems of clarity and concision, which sometimes conclude with a sudden and surprising deepening. Here’s just one example.
Green-Striped Melons
They lie
Children in a Field by Angela Shaw: American Life in Poetry #27 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-
© Ted Kooser
In this lovely poem by Angela Shaw, who lives in Pennsylvania, we hear a voice of wise counsel: Let the young go, let them do as they will, and admire their grace and beauty as they pass from us into the future.
Children in a Field
Poor Patriarch by Susie Patlove : American Life in Poetry #245 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2
© Ted Kooser
I love the way the following poem by Susie Patlove opens, with the little rooster trying to “be what he feels he must be.” This poet lives in Massachusetts, in a community called Windy Hill, which must be a very good place for chickens, too.
Poor Patriarch
The rooster pushes his head
The Apology
© Anne Kingsmill Finch
'Tis true I write and tell me by what Rule
I am alone forbid to play the fool
The Coffins by Michael Chitwood : American Life in Poetry #262 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2
© Ted Kooser
When we hear news of a flood, that news is mostly about the living, about the survivors. But at the edges of floods are the dead, too. Here Michael Chitwood, of North Carolina, looks at what’s floating out there on the margins.
The Coffins
Two days into the flood
The Cōuercyon of Swerers
© Stephen Hawes
The fruytfull sentence & the noble werkes
To our doctryne wryten in olde antyquyte
By many grete and ryght notable clerkes
Grounded on reason & hyghe auctoryte
The Old Liberators by Robert Hedin: American Life in Poetry #185 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004
© Ted Kooser
When I was a boy, there were still a few veterans of the Spanish American War, and more of The Great War, or World War I, and now all those have died and those who served in World War II are passing from us, too. Robert Hedin, a Minnesota poet, has written a fine poem about these people.
The Old Liberators
March
© William Carlos Williams
But! now for the battle!
Now for murder-now for the real thing!
My third springtime is approaching!
Winds!
lean, serious as a virgin,
seeking, seeking the flowers of March.
Baby Wrens’ Voices by Thomas R. Smith : American Life in Poetry #232 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Lau
© Ted Kooser
I’ve built many wren houses since my wife and I moved to the country 25 years ago. It’s a good thing to do in the winter. At one point I had so many extra that in the spring I set up at a local farmers’ market and sold them for five dollars apiece. I say all this to assert that I am an authority at listening to the so small voices that Thomas R. Smith captures in this poem. Smith lives in Wisconsin.
Baby Wrens’ Voices
I am a student of wrens.
Swimming With A Hundred Year Old Snapping Turtle by Freya Manfred: American Life in Poetry #113 Ted
© Ted Kooser
American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. Reprinted by permission of Freya Manfred, whose most recent book is My Only Home, 2003, from Red Dragonfly Press. Poem copyright © 2006 by Freya Manfred. Introduction copyright © 2009 by The Poetry Foundation. The introduction's author, Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004-2006. We do not accept unsolicited manuscripts.
Hurry by Marie Howe : American Life in Poetry #218 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006
© Ted Kooser
Here is one of my favorite mother-daughter poems, by Marie Howe, who lives in New York City and who has a charming little girl.
Hurry
We stop at the dry cleaners and the grocery store
What I Learned From My Mother by Julia Kasdorf: American Life in Poetry #60 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet La
© Ted Kooser
Most of us have taken at least a moment or two to reflect upon what we have learned from our mothers. Through a catalog of meaningful actions that range from spiritual to domestic, Pennsylvanian Julia Kasdorf evokes the imprint of her mother's life on her own. As the poem closes, the speaker invites us to learn these actions of compassion.
Poetry Everywhere
© William Schwenck Gilbert
What time the poet hath hymned
The writhing maid, lithe-limbed,
Quivering on amaranthine asphodel,
How can he paint her woes,
Knowing, as well he knows,
That all can be set right with calomel?
An Epistle To Robert Lloyd, Esq.
© William Cowper
'Tis not that I design to rob
Thee of thy birthright, gentle Bob,--
