i’m watching the President – are you? i’ll be back tomorrow….
poets unite!
Hi Friends! Once again Ted Kooser has picked the perfect poem to start the week. Enjoy!!! [And, if you like what you read, I highly recommend signing up for his weekly email!]
American Life in Poetry: Column 357
BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006
The title of this beautiful poem by Edward Hirsch contradicts the poem, which is indeed a prayer. Hirsch lives in New York and is president of the John Simon Guggenheim Memorial Foundation, one of our country’s most distinguished cultural endowments.
I Was Never Able To Pray
Wheel me down to the shore
where the lighthouse was abandoned
and the moon tolls in the rafters.
Let me hear the wind paging through the trees
and see the stars flaring out, one by one,
like the forgotten faces of the dead.
I was never able to pray,
but let me inscribe my name
in the book of waves
and then stare into the dome
of a sky that never ends
and see my voice sail into the night.
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 ©2010 by Edward Hirsch, whose most recent book of poetry is “The Living Fire: New and Selected Poems,” Alfred A. Knopf, 2010. Reprinted from the “Northwest Review,” Vol. 48, No. 2, 2010, by permission of Edward Hirsch and the publisher. Introduction copyright ©2012 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.
American Life in Poetry ©2006 The Poetry Foundation
Contact: alp@poetryfoundation.org
This column does not accept unsolicited poetry.
Been on a bit of a break – a few poems to keep you going 🙂
“we leave the ones we love”
“Stoop Sittin – A Baltimore Tradition”
all these ghosts whisper –
do not be afraid.
all is happening for a reason
this winter cold does not last
and the body, eventually,
turns back to ash.
Brooklyn Seduction http://www.presssendpoetry.com/2010/06/brooklyn-seduction.html
Like Pea Soup http://www.presssendpoetry.com/2011/03/like-pea-soup.html
poems for Zach Sowers http://www.presssendpoetry.com/2010/03/poems-to-zach-sowers-9-months-and.html
Hi everyone, picked a few poems out of the hat…. enjoy!
the rain forms a veil for
my mourners
even the streetlights bow
orange tears
down to the harbor like the
first borns
who, for their sex, are set free
down river
Etched name in silver reflects a man
engraved in a fight not his own,
a name i can run
my fingers on like Braille,
it is all i know —
of his uniform stained or how
the sweat of the jungle
may have flowed
between the stubble on his lip.
What could it have been
but a deafening thunder that rose
into clouds disappearing
as certain as smoke.
the way a flower sleeps when such nocturnal blanket through the blinds
gently folds the silky daisy petals toward each other
until the sun-shaped glory has become a half moon; it’s
the way a body folds in yoga
the way the cat curls its paw, with tufts of fur, over its eyes to block out
the electric hum of this laptop clicking, so desperate to know what
lives in those dreams of flowers and cats.
Once again, Ted Kooser’s column has really struck a cord with me, and once again, they’ve kindly allowed me to republish it here. Mueller’s piece is the perfect way to start the New Year! Enjoy friends and cheers to a great 2012!
American Life in Poetry: Column 354
BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006
A wise friend told me that since the Age of Reason we’ve felt we had to explain everything, and
that as a result we’ve forgotten the value of mystery. Here’s a poem by Lisel Mueller that
celebrates mystery. Mueller is a Pulitzer Prize winning poet from Illinois.
Sometimes, When the Light
Sometimes, when the light strikes at odd angles
and pulls you back into childhood
and you are passing a crumbling mansion
completely hidden behind old willows
or an empty convent guarded by hemlocks
and giant firs standing hip to hip,
you know again that behind that wall,
under the uncut hair of the willows
something secret is going on,
so marvelous and dangerous
that if you crawled through and saw,
you would die, or be happy forever.
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 ©1980 by Lisel Mueller, from her most recent book of poems, Alive
Together: New and Selected Poems, Louisiana State University Press, 1996. Poem reprinted by permission
of Lisel Mueller and the publisher. Introduction copyright 2012 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.
American Life in Poetry ©2006 The Poetry Foundation
Contact: alp@poetryfoundation.org
This column does not accept unsolicited poetry.