National Poetry Month
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You promised to send me some violets. Did you forget? White ones and blue ones from under the orchard hedge? Sweet dark purple, and white ones mixed for a pledge Of our early love that hardly has opened yet. Here there’s an almond tree—you have never seen Such a one in the north—it flowers on…
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I grew up in a town bordered by the Connecticut River; in fact, I drive over it every day on my way to and from work. Soon I will be moving to a town without the river as a neighbor, where instead I will be bordered by farm fields rather than the river that feeds…
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So, I didn’t forget to post poetry on my birthday but did manage to miss the day after. Go figure. Here are two poems to make up for yesterday’s loss. I even chose a great one for April 17 in honor of the New Moon. Better late than never, I guess. New Moon by Ted…
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I’m posting this a bit late today. I didn’t forget; I’ve been out and about celebrating my birthday. Welcome, 49! Today I shall celebrate myself, and share my own work with you. *** End of the Daydream by Nicole Kapise-Perkins Maybe I’m doing betterat looking past red flags.I wish to be happier;I remind myself even…
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For Day 15 of National Poetry Month, I give you the brilliant Maria Popova! The rain falls and fallscool, bottomless, and prehistoricfalls like night —not an ablutionnot a baptismjust a small reasonto rememberall we know of Heavento rememberwe are still herewith our love songs and our wars,our space telescopes and our table tennis. Here tooin…
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I had no thought of violets of late,The wild, shy kind that spring beneath your feetIn wistful April days, when lovers mateAnd wander through the fields in raptures sweet.The thought of violets meant florists’ shops,And bows and pins, and perfumed papers fine;And garish lights, and mincing little fopsAnd cabarets and songs, and deadening wine.So far…
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Each year, at this time,I see beneath the washing line,a beautiful flower appear.No matter if the shearscut it back or if my bootscompact the groundaround its roots. A Lenten Rosethat rises from the ground;head exposedabove a gangof hooded snow drops. Close cousin ofThe Christmas Rose;needless to say,they share much DNA:their flower-like sepalsappear as five petals.…
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My beautiful girl AlysonRose is 27 today, and so I give you roses for my Rosie! *** ROSES by George Eliot You love the roses — so do I. I wish The sky would rain down roses, as they rain From off the shaken bush. Why will it not? Then all the valley would be…
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Talk to me of vineyards pungent with basil and thyme, of fireflies, shooting stars, and long hot summer nights. For winter has gone on much too long. Copyright © D.W. Rodgers | Year Posted 2014
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In Karrada at night, wind and rain before dawn,when the dark is a roof or a drape never drawn, when the night’s at its peak and the dark’s full of rain,and the wet silence roils like a fierce hurricane, the lament of the wind fills the deserted street,the arcades groan in pain, and the lamps…
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