National Poetry Month: 30 New Poems--Poem 5

Combing through my saved and bookmarked poems that I never got around to reading has been lots of fun. This National Poetry Month series is a hit in my mind. I hope you're enjoying it, too.

Today's new (to me) poem comes via a great blog, How a Poem Happens. I don't know how he does it, but blogger Brian Brodeur gets poets to share poems with him and answer some really interesting questions about them. It's like getting to pick a poet's brain for a few moments. It's one of my favorite blogs to read. You simply must check it out.

Today's poem was posted back in February. I saved it, but never gave it much attention until now. It certainly deserves attention, in my opinion:

FOURTH OF JULY
By Keetje Kuipers

If I have any romantic notions left,
please let me abandon them here
on the dashboard of your Subaru
beside this container of gas station
potato salad and bottle of sunscreen.
Otherwise, my heart is a sugar packet
waiting to be shaken open by some
other man’s hand


Read the rest of the poem at Brian's blog. The originality of the "my heart is a sugar packet" metaphor is enough to call this poem "awesome," but the vivid imagery conjured up here and the rambling, run-on way of describing it are great, too. This poem strikes a chord with me and I just love how much it does in so few lines.


See you tomorrow for poem #6!

National Poetry Month: 30 New Poems--Poem Four

Sometimes when I read a poem, I know I like it right away--but I'm not exactly sure why I like it. That's how I felt when I read today's poem. Its rambling, stream-of-consciousness tone appeals to me, I know that.  Maybe you should just read it and see what you think:

in the ruins
by Mark Conway

we drank in the remains
of ruined buildings
and we sat in a cave or
wrecked houses on farms given back to the bank
listening to men who'd been raised
in ways that were lost
and we strained to make out
the use of their news
they were crazy or passed out
speed notched with a cross
they drank from the flask and the mouth
they came in and shook off the rain
inflamed and dismayed
calm and arcane
the least one seethed chanting whitman for hours
then wept at the dregs of the fire
foam formed at the edge of their lips
we drank and waited for something to drop
you and I looking and sifting
for signs written in wax
we were young we knew how to die
but not how to last 

Read the rest here. And let me know what you think. I find it enchanting and a little bit mesmerizing.

See you tomorrow for poem five! And remember, be sure to subscribe so you get all posts delivered straight to you. AND if you haven't told your friends about our National Poetry Month series...there's still time!

National Poetry Month: 30 New Poems--Poem III

Continuing to share with you 30 poems that are new to me (and maybe you) during National Poetry Month, today we bring you...

Poem for Wisconsin
by Matthew Zapruder

In Milwaukee it is snowing

on the golden statue 

of the 1970s television star

whose television house

was in Milwaukee 

and also on the Comet Cafe

and on the white museum 

the famous Spanish architect 

built with a glass 

elevator through it

and a room with a button

that when you press it

makes two wings

on the sides of the building 

more quickly than you might 

imagine mechanically 

rise like a clumsy

thoughtful bird 

thinking now

I am at last ready 

Read the rest of this poem here.

I really like the one-line stanzas--the way they slow you down, encouraging you to contemplate each and every word so closely. And its rambling nature appeals to me. And I just have a thing for poems with geography references. I'll delve into that another day, I suppose.

Stay tuned for more new poems throughout National Poetry Month!

National Poetry Month: 30 New Poems--Poem #2

My National Poetry Month series was inspired by a lack of time. I just haven't had time to keep up with my poetry reading (read about where I find poems here). I've read very few poems lately because of busy-ness in other areas of life (not complaining, I promise!) and I'm using NPM to inspire me to get caught up. And you, dear reader, get to benefit because as I comb through my RSS reader and email inbox this month, I'll be sharing the best with you. (Make sure you subscribe or follow...it'll be easier to follow along. And definitely worth it.)

So as I continue sharing poems that are new to me (and hopefully to you, too), I bring you the second installment:

Paestum Thunderstorm, Twenty Years On

By Jacqueline Osherow

It was otherworldly. You'd have been rapturous:
lightning over the temples \ wine-dark sky—
no one in that drenched expanse but us


unless you call the thunder a god's voice.
We were soaked completely through, the girls and I.
Even without the storm, you'd have been rapturous,


showing your girls your most beloved place
(that's how I billed it; it's why they came with me)
from our honeymoon travels. No one but us.


But you'd hate the new confinement to the grass.
Back then, we wandered each antiquity;
there's a whole roll of photographs: me, rapturous,


posed at column after column, my face
a likeness of its likeness in your eye. 

Please read the rest of this poem here. The story told here is haunting and emotional. I think it would strike a very deep chord with anyone who happens to be married. I know it does with me. I also love how the word "rapturous" works here. It's a great example of how words pull double and triple duty sometimes in poems. It's a word that captures intense pleasure, but it's also repeated as a way of linking husband, wife, and children--binding them together with the same adjective.

I hope you liked it. See you tomorrow.

National Poetry Month: 30 New Poems--Poem the First

Welcome to National Poetry Month! After giving this much thought, I've decided that sharing a poem that's new to me each day during the month would be a good way to spread the joy of poetry. If it's new to me, there's a good chance that it's new to the 8 people per day who read this blog. (While we're on the topic, what better time than now to subscribe or follow us! Let's boost that number to double digits!!!)

So our first new poem comes via the Poets.org poem-a-day email...

Sutra
by Marilyn Krysl
Looking back now, I see I was dispassionate too often, dismissing the robin as common, and now can't remember what robin song sounds like. I hoarded my days, as though to keep them safe from depletion, and meantime I kept busy being lonely. This took up the bulk of my time, and I did not speak to strangers because they might be boring, and there were those I feared would ask me for money. I was clumsy around the confident, and the well bred, standing on their parapets, enthralled me, but when one approached, I fled. I also feared the street's down and outs, anxious lest they look at me closely, and afraid I would see their misery. I feared my father who feared me and did not touch me, which made me more afraid. My mother feared him too, and as I grew to be like him, she became afraid of me also. I kept busy avoiding dangers of many colors, fleeing from those with whom I had much in common.

Read the rest of the poem here.

I hope you find the images and descriptive language of this poem as enchanting as I do. And, of course, the perfection of the ending just makes this poem.

The theory behind this Poetry Month series is that there are so many wonderful poems out there that we aren't aware of. I want to at least spend the next 30 days sharing poems that might have gone undiscovered and that might strike a chord with you in a way that might make you want to pass it along, either to friends, students, or loved ones.

So sit back, relax, (subscribe!), and enjoy the wonders of National Poetry Month.

And how apropos that the first day of National Poetry Month falls on a Poetry Friday! Check out the roundup hosted by The Poem Farm. It's destined to be the most exciting roundup of the year, for sure.

Women's History Month Poetry Countdown Round-Up

Now that March is concluding, I wanted to provide a round-up of my countdown of the greatest female poets in history. Remember, one criterion was that they could no longer be living. Another was that I think they were awesome. It was tough going at times making choices--a lot of great poets didn't make my list--but it was a ton of fun doing so much reading and research. I hope you enjoyed it, too.

#10--Lucille Clifton
#9--Marianne Moore
#8--Lorine Niedecker
#7--Qiu Jin
#6--Louise Bogan
#5--Denise Levertov
#4--Elizabeth Bishop
#3--Gwendolyn Brooks
#2--Jane Kenyon
#1--Emily Dickinson

Be sure to stay tuned to The Small Nouns for our first every National Poetry Month series starting tomorrow, April 1!

Poetry Countdown: Women's History Month--#1

A Man may make a Remark -

In itself - a quiet thing

That may furnish the Fuse unto a Spark

In dormant nature - lain -

Let us divide - with skill -

Let us discourse - with care -

Powder exists in Charcoal - 

Before it exists in Fire -

I couldn't do it. I was all set to place Emily Dickinson #2 in my Poetry Countdown in honor of Women's History Month. But then I typed that poem and realized that there was no way that Dickinson could be any place but #1.

Let me be upfront...I don't find pleasure in every Dickinson poem. However, I am awed by the complexities and intricacies of nearly every one of them. Fear not--there are plenty that I really do love, though. Like this one...

Fame is a bee.
It has a song--
It has a sting--
Ah, too, it has a wing.

The fact that this was written in the mid-19th century always strikes me. 150 years later, fame is still a bee, to say the least. Would you call her before her time? It seems from what I know of her biography, that she wasn't the perfect fit in her time period. At least that's my take. Maybe she wouldn't have fit in anywhere.

On to another gem...

They shut me up in Prose –

As when a little Girl

They put me in the Closet –

Because they liked me “still”   –

Still! Could themself have peeped –

And seen my Brain – go round –

They might as wise have lodged a Bird

For Treason – in the Pound –

Himself has but to will

And easy as a Star

Look down opon Captivity –

And laugh – No more have I –

I wish she was still around today because I'd love to hear her explain her dashes and capitalization (as if she'd tell me). I'd also love to hear her take on 21st century life. Although, again, a lot of her work is timeless. And I do especially enjoy the poems where she acts very un-Emily-like:

Wild nights - Wild nights!

Were I with thee

Wild nights should be

Our luxury!

Futile - the winds -

To a Heart in port -

Done with the Compass -

Done with the Chart!

Rowing in Eden -

Ah - the Sea!

Might I but moor - tonight -

In thee!

There are so many Dickinson poems. It's impossible to choose a few to leave you with. So here are her pages at the Poetry Foundation and at Poets.org. Each has a bio and links to numerous poems. Dive in. Enjoy. Bask in her genius.