Thursday

Thursday

 

 And if I loved you Wednesday,

   Well, what is that to you?

I do not love you Thursday—

   So much is true.

And why you come complaining

   Is more than I can see.

I loved you Wednesday,—yes—but what

   Is that to me?

by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Jabberwocky By Lewis Carroll - Read by Benedict Cumberbatch

Almost every year, I share a video of Jabberwocky, which just happens to be one of my favorite poems.  

Here, for your enjoyment, is one of my favorite actors reading it.

Monday Morning

WriWritten and performed by Twin Poets Al Mills and  Nnamdi O. Chukwuocha.

Talking about poetry

A guest blog by Kaye Wilkinson Barley.

A few years back I came across a question a Facebook friend had posted pondering why weren't people writing poetry anymore?

Turns out this person had not read any poetry since their days in school when forced to memorize a poem from the book 101 Famous Poems compiled by Roy J. Cook (in print since 1916).

The answer to the question is, of course, yes there are, indeed, many more poets than the long honored Dickinson, Frost, Shakespeare, Poe, Whitman, Shelley, and Tennyson.

Modern poets being read and recognized more recently include the well-known Mary Oliver, Wendell Berry, Billy Collins, Elizabeth Bishop, Maya Angelou . . . the list is long.  Here's BookRiot.com's list of Best Modern Poets, which is short compared to the many poets who have work out there waiting for you to find.

Contemporary poets known for writing some fierce social commentary would include Kim Addonizio, Aja Monet, Louise Glück . . . again, the list is long and worth your research time.

And, then there are the poets writing today who may not be as well-known but might, some day in the future, be in a new version of 101 Famous Poems:  Leslé Honoré, Tara M. Stringfellow, Tarriona "Tank" Ball , along with this list of poetry books LitHub.com says you should be reading right now.

And finally, i apologize to those of you who are wondering how on earth I might have forgotten to include your own personal fave. It may be due to concerns of intruding into Marlyn's space. Or, I truly may have forgotten. OR, your fave may be someone I haven't discovered yet!

However, for several years, I have randomly posted poems that have somehow found their way to me at my blog. I dedicate the month of April to posting poetry. I hope you'll join me.

This might be the spot where I can tell you that a favorite place of mine to find new poets (along with writers, musicians, photographers, artists, etc.) is The Bitter Southerner, one of the best on-line magazines available today.

Thank you, Marlyn, for inviting me to write about a subject dear to my hear!

P. S.  -   

I recommend reading this essay by Courtney Emerson where she discusses elements of poetry which distinguish it from other forms of writing, and the importance it has played in society throughout history, i.e.,  .  . . ."with poets using their words to confront social and political issues."

Kaye lives with Don, her husband of 38 years, 

in the North Carolina mountains 

along with their Corgi, Annabelle. 

You can find Kaye's blog here.  

Thursday

                                                  

                                        I have had my dream--like others--

and it has come to nothing, so that

I remain now carelessly

with feet planted on the ground

and look up at the sky--

feeling my clothes about me,

the weight of my body in my shoes,

the rim of my hat, air passing in and out

at my nose--and decide to dream no more.

by William Carlos Williams. 

 

A Poem for Europa by U.S. Poet Laureate Ada Limón

 A Poem for Europa by Ada Limón

As part of her tenure as U.S. poet laureate, Ada Limón has written “In Praise of Mystery,” which will be engraved on the Europa Clipper spacecraft that launches to Jupiter and its moons in October 2024. Published here as Limón’s debut picture book, this luminous poem is illustrated by celebrated and internationally renowned artist Peter Sís.

In Praise of Mystery celebrates humankind’s endless curiosity, asks us what it means to explore beyond our known world, and shows how the unknown can reflect us back to ourselves.

A poem for the solar eclipse

 Seeing the Eclipse in Maine

It started about noon.  On top of Mount Batte,   

We were all exclaiming.  Someone had a cardboard   

And a pin, and we all cried out when the sun   

Appeared in tiny form on the notebook cover.   

It was hard to believe.  The high school teacher   

We’d met called it a pinhole camera,   

People in the Renaissance loved to do that.   

And when the moon had passed partly through   

We saw on a rock underneath a fir tree,   

Dozens of crescents—made the same way—   

Thousands!  Even our straw hats produced   

A few as we moved them over the bare granite.   

We shared chocolate, and one man from Maine   

Told a joke.  Suns were everywhere—at our feet.

Poem copyright © 1997 by Robert Bly