The Poetry Box

National Poetry Month

Poem of the Day (04-14-2018)

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To celebrate National Poetry Month, The Poetry Box is sharing a Poem-of-the-Day, selected from various anthologies and individual poet collections that we have published over the years.

National Poetry Month, 2018 - Poem of the Day at The Poetry Box

Please enjoy today’s selection: “Let it Be” by Connie Post, which appears in The Poeming Pigeon: Poems about Music:

Let it Be

When I was nine
Paul McCartney’s voice
seeped through the bottom cracks
of all the doors in the house

“When I find myself in times of trouble”
how a young girl plays
the same music in her room
as if the singer knows
her name
her crumpled, simple thoughts

“Mother Mary comes to me”
how a young girl
believes the man inside
the record player knows
when she is taking off her dress

“Whisper words of Wisdom”
how a man’s voice can understand
there is no mother
no words
no rosary bead
sturdy enough for this heavy a prayer

“Let it Be, Let it Be”
and she does
Let it be, only to let it fall
as she swallows the rosary
the beads, the cross
the song

and it crumbles
like the lyrics
that broke in her hand
upon learning
how to leave a room

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Poem of the Day (04-13-2018)

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To celebrate National Poetry Month, The Poetry Box is sharing a Poem-of-the-Day, selected from various anthologies and individual poet collections that we have published over the years.

National Poetry Month, 2018 - Poem of the Day at The Poetry Box

Please enjoy today’s selection: “Average Afternoon, Portland” by ‘M’ which appears in Keeping It Weird—Poems & Stories of Portland, Oregon

Average Afternoon, Portland

we are deep in the trench of January
winter has its hand
on our bundled up backs
rudely shoveling us like litter
down Glisan street
a man drives a cherry red Chevy 4 X 4
in the opposite direction
payload maxed out with
ladders power saws paint cans drywall
windows rolled all the way down
sound system jacked all the way up
the monkey puppet on his left hand
is smiling
waving indiscriminately at everyone
lip-syncing Tom Jones
it’s not unusual
to be loved by anyone
and just like in a movie
when the sad boy makes
the clutch free throw
even though it’s hokey
we cheer

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Poem of the Day (04-12-2018)

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To celebrate National Poetry Month, The Poetry Box is sharing a Poem-of-the-Day, selected from various anthologies and individual poet collections that we have published over the years.

National Poetry Month, 2018 - Poem of the Day at The Poetry Box

Please enjoy today’s selection: “Kiss, Kisses” by Judith Arcana, which appears in The Poeming Pigeon: Love Poems:

Kiss, Kisses

Kisses like warm feathers
hands on my neck, lifting my hair
fingers twist, braid through dark waves;
you bend and slide and kiss
throat, shoulders, collarbone’s
small open place there
there

Kisses whisper at my back
moan into my thighs, calling down
light from the Mars-red moon, glowing
over the lake; at the pier’s end
a swell rises, slipping bright water
up, over, to kiss skin
skin

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Poem of the Day (04-11-2018)

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To celebrate National Poetry Month, The Poetry Box is sharing a Poem-of-the-Day, selected from various anthologies and individual poet collections that we have published over the years.

National Poetry Month, 2018 - Poem of the Day at The Poetry Box

Please enjoy today’s selection: “Checking Fencelines” by Tricia Knoll, which appears in Broadfork Farm:

Checking Fencelines

~ for Gillian Galford and Dave Trevithick,
Wedding at Broadfork Farm on July 25, 2015

Marriage is hands-on farm management.
Balance books with dreams and sunrises.
Chase piglets that squirm through fences.
Let kittens abide in the hayloft.
Make dogs leave chickens alone.
Collect blue eggs in a wire basket.

Cultivate to reap.
Weed between bean sprouts.
When you hear the creek run,
bless it.

Every day, every week, every month
walk the perimeter of your marriage.
Look inward from the boundary,
seedlings here depend
on the sprawling tree there.
See one big picture
in your album pages.
Savor hedgerows.
Check the fenceline.

Share repairs.
The sun sets on the mountain
at different times each day.
Let love rock you
to sleep.

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Poem of the Day (04-10-2018)

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To celebrate National Poetry Month, The Poetry Box is sharing a Poem-of-the-Day, selected from various anthologies and individual poet collections that we have published over the years.

National Poetry Month, 2018 - Poem of the Day at The Poetry Box

Please enjoy today’s selection: “Dirty Girl” by Kristin Roedell, which appears in The Poeming Pigeon: Doobie or Not Doobie:

Dirty Girl

Fall and winter mornings
were awash with mist.
It took me an hour
to circle the lake;
I sat on every bench,
I memorized the plaques.

A moss-covered tree stretched
branches across the shallows;
the ducks were pearled along
them, waiting for the winter sun
to come up,
bills tucked into feathers.

I saw God
in the simple angles
that followed them
as they swam.
When startled, they lifted
in a flood of wings, returning
like a gentle rain.

September
I sat under a red and gold oak,
leaves spread beneath me
in a rich gown.
December
I walked the high trails,
a hoarfrost on the reeds.
I wrote a poem (this poem)

to not forget the sound
of leaves underfoot.
I have never known
such a graceful falling
of the year.

It might have been
the marijuana,
pungent and strong;
I smoked it that year.
They called it
Dirty Girl—

but I have never been
so clean.

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Poem of the Day (04-09-2018)

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To celebrate National Poetry Month, The Poetry Box is sharing a Poem-of-the-Day, selected from various anthologies and individual poet collections that we have published over the years.

National Poetry Month, 2018 - Poem of the Day at The Poetry Box

Please enjoy today’s selection: “Fertilized by Mark Strand” by Ada Jill Schneider, which appears in The Poeming Pigeon: Poems from the Garden:

Fertilized by Mark Strand

  “I have been eating poetry.”

Sun sweat drips into my eyes,
sonnets bounce in the rain;
in a garden patch mulched with feelings
I have been planting poetry.

The earth is mealy, rich with fragrant
lavender, scented geraniums. I tousle each
fl ower, mot juste; prune, lop and top
till my face is red as rhubarb.

I want to spray cool water over my head
till puddles form in my yellow Jollys,
trickle into rivulets circling pale sage,
licorice tarragon, lickable, palpable

poetry I cultivate. My roots dig deep
into time, reaching Rachel’s tomb.
Lush psalms spill out of my basket
and I swear I attract hummingbirds.

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Poem of the Day (04-08-2018)

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To celebrate National Poetry Month, The Poetry Box is sharing a Poem-of-the-Day, selected from various anthologies and individual poet collections that we have published over the years.

National Poetry Month, 2018 - Poem of the Day at The Poetry Box

Please enjoy today’s selection: “Before They Reheat the Rod” by Penelope Scambly Schott, which appears in Of Course, I’m a Feminist!

Before They Reheat the Rod

In the ancient city, they heated iron rods
and blinded all the daughters.

Then they told the daughters Every man
is brave and beautiful.

In that city, they blessed the girls’ hands
and set them to spin in the dark.

Behind bronze gates, the daughters sang
the hymns almost as instructed,

but they sang in a language understood
only by birds of prey.

Listen. The wings of the blind daughters
summoned a wild sirocco wind

so that sand dunes buried the ancient city.
What endures now is the song.

Do you know it?
Whisper the words in your daughter’s ear.

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Poem of the Day (04-07-2018)

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To celebrate National Poetry Month, The Poetry Box is sharing a Poem-of-the-Day, selected from various anthologies and individual poet collections that we have published over the years.

National Poetry Month, 2018 - Poem of the Day at The Poetry Box

Please enjoy today’s selection: “What We Thought We Heard” by Jan Haag, which appears in The Poeming Pigeon: Poems about Music:

What We Thought We Heard

(misunderstood song lyrics)

On a dark desert highway, Cool Whip in my hair.
Hold me closer, Tony Danza.
Count the head lice on the highway.
You might as well face it, you’re a dick with a glove.
Because sweet dreams are made of cheese.
Donuts make my brown eyes blue.
I’ve got two chickens to paralyze.
It’s the age of asparagus.
The ants are my friends, they’re blowin’ in the wind.
Do you like bean enchiladas?
I like big butts and a can of limes.
Like a virgin, touched for the thirty-first time.
The sheep don’t like it — rock the catbox, rock the catbox.
You walked into the potty like you were walking onto a yacht.
Theeeeeere’s a bathroom on the right.
Joy to the visions that the people see.
Goodbye, aubergine.
I’ll never leave your pizza burnin’.

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