Poem of the Day, November 14
Ash Ode
by Dean Young
When I saw you ahead I ran two blocks
shouting your name then realizing it wasn’t
you but some alarmed pretender, I went on
running, shouting now into the sky,
continuing your fame and luster. Since I’ve
been incinerated, I’ve oft returned to this thought,
that all things loved are pursued an [...]
Poem of the Day. Ash Ode by Dean You...
Poem of the Day, November 14
Ash Ode
by Dean Young
When I saw you ahead I ran two blocks
shouting your name then realizing it wasn’t
you but some alarmed pretender, I went on
running, shouting now into the sky,
continuing your fame and luster. Since I’ve
been incinerated, I’ve oft returned to this thought,
that all things loved are pursued an [...]
Poem of the Day. Dolor by Theodore R...
Poem of the Day, November 13
Dolor
by Theodore Roethke
I have known the inexorable sadness of pencils,
Neat in their boxes, dolor of pad and paper-weight,
All the misery of manila folders and mucilage,
Desolation in immaculate public places,
Lonely reception room, lavatory, switchboard,
The unalterable pathos of basin and pitcher,
Ritual of m [...]
Poem of the Day. Perennials by Maggi...
Poem of the Day, November 12
Perennials
by Maggie Smith
Let us praise the ghost gardens
of Gary, Detroit, Toledo—abandoned
lots where perennials wake
in competent dirt and frame the absence
of a house. You can hear
the sound of wind, which isn’t
wind at all, but leaves touching.
Wind itself can’t speak. It needs another
to chime against, knoc [...]
Poem of the Day. Movement Song by Au...
Poem of the Day, November 11
Movement Song
by Audre Lorde
I have studied the tight curls on the back of your neck
moving away from me
beyond anger or failure
your face in the evening schools of longing
through mornings of wish and ripen
we were always saying goodbye
in the blood in the bone over coffee
before dashing for elevators going
in op [...]
Poem of the Day. Splitting an Order ...
Poem of the Day, November 10
Splitting an Order
by Ted Kooser
I like to watch an old man cutting a sandwich in half,
maybe an ordinary cold roast beef on whole wheat bread,
no pickles or onion, keeping his shaky hands steady
by placing his forearms firm on the edge of the table
and using both hands, the left to hold the sandwich in place,
and [...]
Poem of the Day. The Truth The Dead ...
Poem of the Day, November 9
Happy Birthday to Anne Sexton, born #OTD in 1928
The Truth The Dead Know
by Anne Sexton
Gone, I say and walk from church,
refusing the stiff procession to the grave,
letting the dead ride alone in the hearse.
It is June. I am tired of being brave.
We drive to the Cape. I cultivate
myself where the sun gutters fro [...]
Poem of the Day. My November Guest by...
Poem of the Day, November 8
My November Guest
by Robert Frost
My sorrow, when she’s here with me,
Thinks these dark days of autumn rain
Are beautiful as days can be;
She loves the bare, the withered tree;
She walks the sodden pasture lane.
Her pleasure will not let me stay.
She talks and I am fain to list:
She’s [...]
Poem of the Day. Ghazal: America the...
Poem of the Day, November 7
Ghazal: America the Beautiful
by Alicia Ostriker
Do you remember our earnestness our sincerity
in first grade when we learned to sing America
The Beautiful along with the Star-Spangled Banner
and say the Pledge of Allegiance to America
We put our hands over our first grade hearts
we felt proud to be citizens of Ame [...]
Poem of the Day. A House Called Tomo...
Poem of the Day, November 6
A House Called Tomorrow
by Alberto Ríos
You are not fifteen, or twelve, or seventeen—
You are a hundred wild centuries
And fifteen, bringing with you
In every breath and in every step
Everyone who has come before you,
All the yous that you have been,
The mothers of your mother,
The fathers of your father.
If someon [...]
Poem of the Day. At Days Bay by James...
Poem of the Day, November 5
At Days Bay
by James K. Baxter
To lie on a beach after
looking at old poems: how
slow untroubled by any
grouch of mine or yours, Father
Ocean tumbles in the bay
alike with solitary
divers, cripples, yelling girls
and pipestem kids. He does what
suits us all; and somewhere — there,
out there, where the high tight sa [...]
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