poems

The Peddler Of Flowers by Amy Lowell

 in Poetry by

The Peddler of Flowers
Amy Lowell, 1874 – 1925

I came from the country
With flowers,
Larkspur and roses,
Fretted lilies
In their leaves,
And long, cool lavender.

I carried them
From house to house,
And cried them
Down hot streets.
The sun fell
Upon my flowers,
And the dust of the streets
Blew over my basket.

That night
I slept upon the open seats
Of a circus,
Where all day long
People had watched
The antics
Of a painted clown.

 

National Poetry Month

 in Poetry by

National Poetry Month is here! And we are a little late getting to it, but no matter. There is still plenty of time to enjoy some wonderful poems. Time to meet some new ones, and time to revisit some old favorites.

But first, why should we have a month dedicated to poetry? Well, National Poetry Month is in its 2oth year, so it must be having some success! According to the Academy of American Poets this is a way to highlight the achievements of American poets, and to encourage the reading of poetry. There are numerous events that occur during this month to help you find your way to poetry. You can find a great list of suggestions here and one of the easiest things you can do is sign up to receive a poem in your mail box each day. No brainer! Or you can watch a movie (or two) that is about poetry and poets.

If you aren’t sure exactly how to read a poem there are several book and essays to be found that give detailed ideas and rationale on how to do it. But really, just find a poem. Then read it out loud. To the cat. Or the dog. Or the room. Don’t rush, follow the lines and punctuation and just read it. There is something wonderful about saying a poem. It does come to life, and makes a lot more sense. Just try it. Don’t be afraid, it is waiting there for you, and won’t judge. Have fun!

National Poetry Month

 in Poetry by

April is National Poetry Month when the Academy of American Poets helps us to stop and take note, appreciate and discover poetry. Throughout American poetry is celebrated with readings, events, activities for students, encouragement to write your own poetry and it ends with Poem in Your Pocket Day (April 30).  Whatever you do, or wherever you live spend some time during this month reading, writing, reciting poetry. Find a poetry slam. Or if you can’t find one get some of your friends together and have your own. If you want to find out more go HERE or check out some of the many links here in Poetry and Poetry Month tags. There are lots of good poems. No, make that lots of great poems. Some serious, some funny, some deeply thought provoking, some just plain silly. And stop by the rest of the month for some new and interesting poems.

Whatever you do enjoy some poems!

Spirits of the Dead by Edgar Allen Poe

 in Fun / Poetry by

Thy soul shall find itself alone
’Mid dark thoughts of the grey tomb-stone;
Not one, of all the crowd, to pry
Into thine hour of secrecy.

Be silent in that solitude,
Which is not loneliness — for then
The spirits of the dead, who stood
In life before thee, are again
In death around thee, and their will
Shall overshadow thee; be still.

The night, though clear, shall frown,
And the stars shall not look down
From their high thrones in the Heaven
With light like hope to mortals given,
But their red orbs, without beam,
To thy weariness shall seem
As a burning and a fever
Which would cling to thee for ever.

Now are thoughts thou shalt not banish,
Now are visions ne’er to vanish;
From thy spirit shall they pass
No more, like dew-drop from the grass.

The breeze, the breath of God, is still,
And the mist upon the hill
Shadowy, shadowy, yet unbroken,
Is a symbol and a token.
How it hangs upon the trees,
A mystery of mysteries!

Sonnets of World War I ~ The Words of Wilfred Own

 in History / Poetry by

Royal Irish Rifles ration party Somme July 1916 Collection from Imperial War Museum

 

 

 

As today marks the 100 year anniversary of the start of World War I, I thought it was appropriate to share a poem by Wilfred Owen who was an English soldier and poet.

Just take a moment to think back to what those men went through and how without them, the world may not be as it is today.

 

Anthem for Doomed Youth by Wilfred Owen

What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles’ rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells,
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,–
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.

What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of good-byes.
The pallor of girls’ brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.

 

Wilfred Owen 18 March 1893 – 4 November 1918