Poetry poems
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To The True Patroness of all Poetry, Calliope
© Francis Beaumont
It is a statute in deep wisdom's lore,
That for his lines none should a patron chuse
AN ELEGY Upon Prince Henry's death.
© Henry King
Keep station Nature, and rest Heaven sure
On thy supporters shoulders, left past cure,
Thou dasht in ruine fall by a griefs weight
Will make thy basis shrink, and lay thy height
The Crow by Kaelum Poulson: American Life in Poetry #182 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006
© Ted Kooser
Poetry has often served to remind us to look more closely, to see what may have been at first overlooked. Today's poem is by Kaelum Poulson of Washington state. A middle school student and already accomplished maker of poems, he writes of the thankless toils of an unlikely but entirely necessary member of our community—the crow!
The Crow
Fishing, His Birthday by Michael Sowder : American Life in Poetry #273 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureat
© Ted Kooser
Equipment. I like to paint and draw, and I own enough art supplies to start my own store. And for every hobby there are lots of supplies that seem essential. In this poem we get a whole tackle box full of equipment from Michael Sowder, who lives and fishes in Utah.
Fishing, His Birthday
Geometry by Nancy Botkin: American Life in Poetry #117 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006
© Ted Kooser
We knew them only in summer when the air
passed through the screens. The neighbor girls
talked to us across the great divide: attic window
to attic window. We started with our names.
Our whispers wobbled along a tightrope,
and below was the rest of our lives.
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. Poem copyright © 2006 by Nancy Botkin. Reprinted from âPoetry East,â? Spring, 2006, by permission of the author, whose full-length book of poems, âParts That Were Once Whole,â? is available from Mayapple Press, 2007. 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.
Daughter by James P. Lenfestey: American Life in Poetry #186 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-20
© Ted Kooser
Every child can be seen as a miracle, and here Minnesota poet James Lenfestey captures the beautiful mystery of a daughter.
Daughter
For Weeks After the Funeral by Andrea Hollander Budy: American Life in Poetry #96 Ted Kooser, U.S. P
© Ted Kooser
Grief can endure a long, long time. A deep loss is very reluctant to let us set it aside, to push it into a corner of memory. Here the Arkansas poet, Andrea Hollander Budy, gives us a look at one family's adjustment to a death.
For Weeks After the Funeral
The house felt like the opera,
the audience in their seats, hushed, ready,
but the cast not yet arrived.
To my Sister Anne King, who chid me in verse for being angry
© Henry King
Dear Nan, I would not have thy counsel lost,
Though I last night had twice so much been crost;
Well is a Passion to the Market brought,
When such a treasure of advice is bought
An Account Of The Greatest English Poets
© Joseph Addison
Blest Man! whose spotless Life and Charming Lays
Employ'd the Tuneful Prelate in thy Praise:
Blest Man! who now shall be for ever known
In Sprat's successful Labours and thy own.
Camping Out by Edwin Grant Burrows: American Life in Poetry #23 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-
© Ted Kooser
In this fine poem about camping by Washington poet E. G. Burrows, vivid memories of the speaker's father, set down one after another, move gracefully toward speculation about how experiences cling to us despite any efforts to put them aside. And then, quite suddenly, the father is gone, forever. But life goes on, the coffee is hot, and the bird that opens the poem is still there at its close, singing for life.
Camping Out
I watched the nesting redstart
when we camped by Lake Winnepesaukee.
The tent pegs pulled out in soft soil.
Rain made pawprints on the canvas.
Amaryllis by Connie Wanek: American Life in Poetry #84 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006
© Ted Kooser
Many of this column's readers have watched an amaryllis emerge from its hard bulb to flower. To me they seem unworldly, perhaps a little dangerous, like a wild bird you don't want to get too close to. Here Connie Wanek of Duluth, Minnesota, takes a close and playful look at an amaryllis that looks right back at her.
Amaryllis
A flower needs to be this size
to conceal the winter window,
and this color, the red
of a Fiat with the top down,
to impress us, dull as we've grown.
Betrayal by Andrea Hollander Budy : American Life in Poetry #261 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004
© Ted Kooser
All over this country, marriage counselors and therapists are right now speaking to couples about unspoken things. In this poem, Andrea Hollander Budy, an Arkansas poet, shows us one of those couples, suffering from things done and undone.
The Poetry Of Milton
© George Meredith
Like to some deep-chested organ whose grand inspiration,
Serenely majestic in utterance, lofty and calm,
Interprets to mortals with melody great as its burthen
The mystical harmonies chiming for ever throughout the bright
spheres.
Neighbors in October by David Baker: American Life in Poetry #5 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-
© Ted Kooser
Though many of us were taught that poems have hidden meanings that must be discovered and pried out like the meat from walnuts, a poem is not a puzzle, but an experience. Here David Baker makes a gift to us through his deft description of an ordinary scene. Reading, we accept the experience of a poem and make it a part of our lives, just as we would take in the look of a mountain we passed on a trip. The poet's use of the words "we" and "neighbors" subtly underline the fact that all of us are members of the human community, much alike, facing the changing seasons together.
New Water by Sharon Chmielarz: American Life in Poetry #99 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006
© Ted Kooser
My maternal grandparents got their drinking water from a well in the yard, and my disabled uncle carried it sloshing to the house, one bucket of hard red water early every morning. I couldn't resist sharing this lovely little poem by Minnesota poet, Sharon Chmielarz.
Supple Cord by Naomi Shihab Nye: American Life in Poetry #107 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-20
© Ted Kooser
Naomi Shihab Nye is one of my favorite poets. She lives in San Antonio, Texas, and travels widely, an ambassador for poetry. Here she captures a lovely moment from her childhood.
Adam's Curse
© William Butler Yeats
WE sat together at one summer's end,
That beautiful mild woman, your close friend,
Bessie Dreaming Bear by Marnie Walsh: American Life in Poetry #3 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 20
© Ted Kooser
A poem need not go on at great length to accomplish the work of conveying something meaningful to its readers. In the following poem by the late Marnie Walsh, just a few words, written as if they'd been recorded in exactly the manner in which they'd been spoken, tell us not only about the missing woman in the red high heels, but a little something about the speaker as well.
Bessie Dreaming Bear
we all went to town one day
went to a store
bought you new shoes
red high heels
Who Says Words With My Mouth?
© Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi
All day I think about it, then at night I say it.
Where did I come from, and what am I supposed to be doing?
I have no idea.
My soul is from elsewhere, I'm sure of that,
and I intend to end up there.
