Tag: poem

National Poetry Month: April 12th

April 12, 2012

Psalm and Lament by Donald Justice

     In memory of my mother (1897-1974)
     Hialeah, Florida
.
The clocks are sorry, the clocks are very sad.
One stops, one goes on striking the wrong hours.
.
And the grass burns terribly in the sun,
The grass turns yellow secretly at the roots.
.
Now suddenly the yard chairs look empty, the sky looks empty,

National Poetry Month: April 11th

April 11, 2012

The Guest House by Rumi

This being human, is the guest house.
Every morning a new arrival!
                                                                                                                                                 .
A joy, a lament, a slight.
A momentary awareness that comes
in as an unexpected visitor.
                                                                                                                                                                 .
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are as a bunch of sorrows,
who sweep your house
empty of its furniture.
Treat each guest honorably.
They may be cleaning your house for some new beginning.
                                                                                                                                               .
The dark thought, a shame, a malice.
Meet them a the door laughing and invite them in.
                                                                                                                                   .
Be grateful for whatever comes!
Because each one has been
sent to the guest house
as a mentor.

This poem was selected by Don W. (Maintenance)

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National Poetry Month: April 9th

April 9, 2012

Digging by Seamus Heaney

Between my finger and my thumb
The squat pen rests; snug as a gun.
                                                                                .
Under my window, a clean rasping sound
When the spade sinks into gravelly ground:
My father, digging.  I look down
                                                                                                   .
Till his straining rump among the flowerbeds
Bends low, comes up twenty years away
Stooping in rhythm through potato drills

National Poetry Month: April 8th

April 8, 2012

On the Road Home by Wallace Stevens

It was when I said,
“There is no such thing as the truth,”
That the grapes seemed fatter.
The fox ran out of his hole.
                                                                                                            .
You… You said,
“There are many truths,
But they are not parts of a truth.”
Then the tree, at night, began to change, Continue reading “National Poetry Month: April 8th” →

National Poetry Month: April 7th

April 7, 2012

When I Was One-and-Twenty by A.E. Housman

When I was one-and-twenty
       I heard a wise man say,
“Give crowns and pounds and guineas
       But not your heart away;
Give pearls away and rubies
       But keep your fancy free.”
But I was one-and-twenty,
       No use to talk to me.
.
When I was one-and-twenty
       I heard him say again,
“The heart out of the bosom
       Was never given in vain;
’Tis paid with sighs a plenty
       And sold for endless rue.”
And I am two-and-twenty,
       And oh, ’tis true, ’tis true.

This poem was selected by Kate K. (North Branch)

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National Poetry Month: April 6th

April 6, 2012

Smile on the Edge by Nancy Etchemendy

Don’t tell me not to smile
when I contemplate the edge.
You don’t know my mind,
the flavor of the wind
on this rocky plateau,
how the horse between my thighs,
povrecito, wants only to be free,
how it strains in its rage and sorrow
toward this darkness
where I must surely follow,
my hands so raw,
its mouth so bloody
I have let go the reins.
The smile makes a small pool,
a memory of how water tastes,
of sky colors,
the scent of virgin grass,
things the darkness cannot offer,
and the horse feels this.
Don’t tell me
the smile costs too much,
that it is a bad bargain.
You do not know.

This poem was selected by Beth M. (Library Administration)

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National Poetry Month: April 4th

April 4, 2012

Why Should Not Old Men Be Mad? by William Butler Yeats

Why should not old men be mad?
Some have known a likely lad
That had a sound fly-fisher’s wrist
Turn to a drunken journalist;
A girl that knew all Dante once
Live to bear children to a dunce;
A Helen of social welfare dream,
Climb on a wagonette to scream.
Some think it a matter of course that chance
Should starve good men and bad advance,
That if their neighbours figured plain,
As though upon a lighted screen,
No single story would they find
Of an unbroken happy mind,
A finish worthy of the start.
Young men know nothing of this sort,
Observant old men know it well;
And when they know what old books tell
And that no better can be had,
Know why an old man should be mad.

This poem was selected by Lesley W. (Head of Adult Services)

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National Poetry Month: April 3rd

April 3, 2012

Harlem by Langston Hughes

What happens to a dream deferred?

      Does it dry up
      like a raisin in the sun?
      Or fester like a sore–
      And then run?
      Does it stink like rotten meat?
      Or crust and sugar over–
      like a syrupy sweet?
                                                                 .
      Maybe it just sags
      like a heavy load.
                                                                            .
      Or does it explode?

This poem was selected by Elvira Carrizal-Dukes (Readers’ Services)

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