by the Night Writer
I saw the following poem on The Writer’s Almanac the other day and thought it was pretty good.
Naming My Daughter
(In the Uruba tribe of Africa, children are
named not only at birth but throughout their
lives by their characteristics and the events
that befall them.)
The one who took hold in the cold night
The one who [...]
by the Night Writer
Hah. I noticed that the following poem was featured in the Writer’s Almanac on Saturday — the day after the Mall Diva’s ultrasound. The author is no W.B. Picklesworth, but he does have a knack for the subject.
The Alien
by Greg Delanty
I’m back again scrutinizing the Milky Way
[...]
by the Night Writer
The last of my grandparents, my maternal grandmother, is fading away. I don’t know if she will last until I, too, become a grandparent later this summer. Her tiny frame shrinks a little more each day, her grasp on time and place as shaky as her fingers trying to take hold of [...]
by Night Writer
It went from “cold” to “damn cold” overnight and when I got up this morning it was -12F here in South St. Paul. The “high” today is supposed to brush 0, which reminded me of this poem by George Bilgere:
Zero
First it was five above, then two,
then one morning just plain zero.
There was a [...]
Christmas 1963
Because we wanted much that year
and had little. Because the winter phone
for days stayed silent that would call
our father back to work, and he
kept silent too with our mother,
fearfully proud before us.
Because I was young that morning
in gray light untouched on the rug
and our gifts were so few, propped
along the furniture, for a second
my [...]
by the Night Writer
Fall is my favorite time of year, and this year it looks as if it will be fleeting. Snow for the second time this week this morning and we’re not to Halloween yet.
Buffy reminded me:
I cried over beautiful things knowing no beautiful thing lasts.
The field of cornflower yellow is a scarf [...]
by the Night Writer
LIFE ON EARTH is pulled down hard on a man’s head. This life was made by hatters. A busy street is only coffee, bread, and hats. The smell of a man’s hat – an old man’s hat – is like the nostril of a horse. You are breathing in what something beautiful [...]
Okay, guys, how are you coming on your Valentine’s Day plans for your wife or significant other? Have you selected the special, highly personal playlist of songs and burned a CD or uploaded it to her MP3 player? No?
Well have you written her a poem, or a letter, telling her how much she means [...]
I think the poem below pretty well sums up why I write — blogging or otherwise. From The Writer’s Alamanc today:
VII
I would not have been a poet
except that I have been in love
alive in this mortal world,
or an essayist except that I
have been bewildered and afraid,
or a storyteller had I not heard
stories passing [...]
Stop for just a moment, or 3 …
3
by John Berryman
Sole watchman of the flying stars, guard me
against my flicker of impulse lust: teach me
to see them as sisters & daughters. Sustain
my grand endeavours: husbandship & crafting.
Forsake me not when my wild hours come;
grant me sleep nightly, grace soften my dreams;
achieve in me patience till [...]
