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253rd Virtual Poetry Circle

May 10, 2014 by

Welcome to the 253rd Virtual Poetry Circle!

Remember, this is just for fun and is not meant to be stressful.

Keep in mind what Molly Peacock’s book suggested.

Look at a line, a stanza, sentences, and images; describe what you like or don’t like; and offer an opinion. If you missed my review of her book, check it out here.

Today’s poem is from Jim Morrison’s Wilderness: Volume 1 from page 57:

I dropped by to see you
               late last night
But you were out
         like a light
Your head was on the floor
& rats played pool w/ your eyes

Death is a good disguise
for late at night

Wrapping all games in its calm garden

But what happens
when the guests return
& all unmask
& you are asked
to leave
for want of a smile

I'll still take you then
But I'm your friend

What do you think?

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252nd Virtual Poetry Circle

May 3, 2014 by

Welcome to the 252nd Virtual Poetry Circle!

Remember, this is just for fun and is not meant to be stressful.

Keep in mind what Molly Peacock’s book suggested.

Look at a line, a stanza, sentences, and images; describe what you like or don’t like; and offer an opinion. If you missed my review of her book, check it out here.

Also, sign up for the 2014 Dive Into Poetry Reading Challenge because there are several levels of participation for your comfort level.

Today’s poem is from The Eight Stages of Translation by Robert Bly:

Old Winter by Salvatore Quasimodo,
translated by Robert Bly (pg. 76-7)

Desire of your hands I see through
in the darkness around the candle flame:
the had the odor of oak and of roses;
odor of death. Old winter.

The birds were looking for millet seeds
and suddenly they turned to snow;
words are like that:
a glimpse of sun, an instant of an angel,
and then the fog; and the trees
and us turned to air by morning.
Antico Inverno by Salvatore Quasimodo

Desiderio delle tue mani chiare
nella penombra della fiamma:
sapevano di rovere e di rose;
di morte. Antico inverno.

Cercavano il miglio gli uccelli
ed erano subito di neve;
cosi le parole:
un po' di sole, una raggiera d'angelo,
e poi la nebbia; e gli ableri,
e noi fatti d'aria al mattino.

What do you think?

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251st Virtual Poetry Circle

April 25, 2014 by

Welcome to the 251st Virtual Poetry Circle!

Remember, this is just for fun and is not meant to be stressful.

Keep in mind what Molly Peacock’s book suggested.

Look at a line, a stanza, sentences, and images; describe what you like or don’t like; and offer an opinion. If you missed my review of her book, check it out here.

Also, sign up for the 2014 Dive Into Poetry Reading Challenge because there are several levels of participation for your comfort level.

Here’s today’s stop on the 2014 National Poetry Month Blog Tour: Reach for the Horizon

Today’s poem is from New European Poets edited by Wayne Miller and Kevin Prufer:

Walls by Lindita Arapi of Albania (page 126)

And if a wall, long and thick,
A high wall
Should rise in front of you . . . 
What would you do?

I would close my eyes, I would crouch
And rest my cheek against it,
I would find peace in its cool serenity.

And if this wall were death . . .

   -translated from the Albanian by Robert Elsie

What do you think?

This is part of the 2014 National Poetry Month: Reach for the Horizon Blog Tour, click the button for more poetry:

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250th Virtual Poetry Circle

April 19, 2014 by

Welcome to the 250th Virtual Poetry Circle!

Remember, this is just for fun and is not meant to be stressful.

Keep in mind what Molly Peacock’s book suggested.

Look at a line, a stanza, sentences, and images; describe what you like or don’t like; and offer an opinion. If you missed my review of her book, check it out here.

Also, sign up for the 2014 Dive Into Poetry Reading Challenge because there are several levels of participation for your comfort level.

Click for today’s stop on the 2014 National Poetry Month Blog Tour: Reach for the Horizon

Today’s poem is from New European Poets edited by Wayne Miller and Kevin Prufer:

First Steps by Stefan Hertmans of Belgium (page 302)

He ran into the street without a glance
and I, beginning to be like him more and more,
thought he could make it to the door.

But he turns around, cars racing
along the prom. Now he’s almost there
I’ll never get to him in time.

Just so my father, all his life,
could dream of my hand, as small
and quick, able to slip between bars
into the depths of rock and water.

Life rushes in a blink.
Then I grab him—he unafraid,
His eyes wide open and so calm—

I with that fatal smash
That will never leave
My life and body.

      -translated from the Flemish by Gregory Ball

What do you think?

This is part of the 2014 National Poetry Month: Reach for the Horizon Blog Tour, click the button for more poetry:

Filed Under: Events, national poetry month, virtual poetry circle Tagged With: , , ,

249th Virtual Poetry Circle

April 12, 2014 by

Welcome to the 249th Virtual Poetry Circle!

Remember, this is just for fun and is not meant to be stressful.

Keep in mind what Molly Peacock’s book suggested.

Look at a line, a stanza, sentences, and images; describe what you like or don’t like; and offer an opinion. If you missed my review of her book, check it out here.

Also, sign up for the 2014 Dive Into Poetry Reading Challenge because there are several levels of participation for your comfort level.

Click for today’s stop on the 2014 National Poetry Month Blog Tour: Reach for the Horizon

Today’s poem is from New European Poets edited by Wayne Miller and Kevin Prufer:

Between Yesterday and Your Mouth by Rosa Alice Branco of Portugal (page 4)

I will spend the night with those days.
With the smile you left in the sheets.
I still burn with the remains of your name
and see with your eyes the things that you touched.
I am here between the bread and table, in the glass
you lift to your mouth. In the mouth that holds me.
And I don't know what I am between yesterday and what will come.
Yesterday I was the river at evening, the gaze that caressed the light.
My son writes on pebbles on the beach and I invent
steps for deciphering them. They all roll far away.
That's how the sea is. I am learning with the waves
to melt away to foam. There is always a seagull
that cries out when I come near, there is always a wing
between the sky and my floor. But nothing belongs to me,
not even the words with which I cement the hours.
Perhaps love is just a small difference in time zones
or a linguistic accord that only exists
deep in the flesh. But here where I am not
what grounds me is the certainty that you exist.

   translated from the Portuguese by Alexis Levitin

What do you think?

This is part of the 2014 National Poetry Month: Reach for the Horizon Blog Tour, click the button for more poetry:

Filed Under: Events, national poetry month, virtual poetry circle Tagged With: , , ,

248th Virtual Poetry Circle

April 5, 2014 by

Welcome to the 248th Virtual Poetry Circle!

Remember, this is just for fun and is not meant to be stressful.

Keep in mind what Molly Peacock’s book suggested.

Look at a line, a stanza, sentences, and images; describe what you like or don’t like; and offer an opinion. If you missed my review of her book, check it out here.

Also, sign up for the 2014 Dive Into Poetry Reading Challenge because there are several levels of participation for your comfort level.

Visit today’s stop on the 2014 National Poetry Month Blog Tour: Reach for the Horizon

Today’s poem is from New European Poets edited by Wayne Miller and Kevin Prufer:

The Barren Woman by O. Nimigean from Romania (page 82)

the barren woman imagines she's giving birth
she twists in the sheets and heaves herself about
she sprawls spraddling her legs against the wall
she thrusts and convulses
runs rivers of sweat
and calls me by name
she even gives birth to me
only she feels how the unseen crown of my head
bursts out through her sex unreceptive to seed
only she hears me gasp and squall
she gnaws my umbilical cord of shadow
and she fondles my head and body
with eager hands

the barren woman licks her faceless whelp
her skinless heartless cub
only she strokes me and knows me
and suckles me on her nut-like pap
I nurse without a sound
and then let slip the delicate nipple and fall asleep
baring my gums and teeth of mist

   translated from the Romanian by Adam J. Sorkin and Radu Andriescu

What do you think?

This is part of the 2014 National Poetry Month: Reach for the Horizon Blog Tour, click the button for more poetry:

Filed Under: Events, national poetry month, virtual poetry circle Tagged With: , , ,

247th Virtual Poetry Circle

March 29, 2014 by

Welcome to the 247th Virtual Poetry Circle!

Remember, this is just for fun and is not meant to be stressful.

Keep in mind what Molly Peacock’s book suggested.

Look at a line, a stanza, sentences, and images; describe what you like or don’t like; and offer an opinion. If you missed my review of her book, check it out here.

Also, sign up for the 2014 Dive Into Poetry Reading Challenge because there are several levels of participation for your comfort level.

Signup for the 2014 National Poetry Month Blog Tour: Reach for the Horizon

Today’s poem is from New European Poets edited by Wayne Miller and Kevin Prufer:

Kiss My Corpse by Gür Genç of Cyprus (page 100)

Kiss my corpse. Kiss it, so that azaleas bloom on your lips.
Grimly a guitar plays
A mother goes insane
A father falls to his knees.
I leave you a life, with the smell of powdered baby
I leave you a life, with dripping blood
From the broken bottle that cut through the vein.

Kiss my corpse. Kiss it, so that, between the cradle and the grave
A crazy celebration begins
With the pleasure of memory my flesh changes color
And shrinks
Because I’ve recorded my death with my own camera
And I can show you, naked, in slow motion
With fearful fame
With fame, I can be vile.

Kiss my corpse. Kiss it, so that echoes of blood pass through you
Inherit the peace, as divine revolt is over.
Come on, kiss it, and learn
Why broken poets are always the first to run to their death.

translated from the Turkish by the author with Stephanos Stephanides

What do you think?

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246th Virtual Poetry Circle

March 22, 2014 by

Welcome to the 246th Virtual Poetry Circle!

Remember, this is just for fun and is not meant to be stressful.

Keep in mind what Molly Peacock’s book suggested.

Look at a line, a stanza, sentences, and images; describe what you like or don’t like; and offer an opinion. If you missed my review of her book, check it out here.

Also, sign up for the 2014 Dive Into Poetry Reading Challenge because there are several levels of participation for your comfort level.

For more poetry, check out the stops on the 2013 National Poetry Month Blog Tour and the 2012 National Poetry Month Blog Tour.

Signup for the 2014 National Poetry Month Blog Tour: Reach for the Horizon

Today’s poem is from Michael Schmidt’s New and Collected Poems:

Wasps' Nest

It was the fruit I wanted, not the nest.
The nest was hanging like the richest fruit
against the sun. I took the nest

and with it came the heart, and in my hand
the kingdom and the queen, frail surfaces,
rested for a moment. Then the drones

awoke and did their painful business.
I let the city drop upon the stones.
It split to its deep palaces and combs.

It bled the insect gold,
the pupa queens like tiny eyes
wriggled from their sockets, and somewhere

the monarch cowered in a veil of wings
in passages through which at evening
the labourers had homed,

burdened with silence and the garden scents.
The secret heart was broken suddenly.
I, to whom the knowledge had been given,

who was not after knowledge but a fruit,
remember how a knot of pains
swelled my hand to a round nest;

blood throbbed in the hurt veins
as if an unseen swarm mined there.
The nest oozed bitter honey.

I swaddled my fat hand in cotton.
After a week pain gave it back to me
scarred and weakened like a shrivelled skin.

A second fruit is growing on the tree.
Identical—the droning in the leaves.
It ripens. I have another hand.

What do you think?

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245th Virtual Poetry Circle

March 15, 2014 by

Welcome to the 245th Virtual Poetry Circle!

Remember, this is just for fun and is not meant to be stressful.

Keep in mind what Molly Peacock’s book suggested.

Look at a line, a stanza, sentences, and images; describe what you like or don’t like; and offer an opinion. If you missed my review of her book, check it out here.

Also, sign up for the 2014 Dive Into Poetry Reading Challenge because there are several levels of participation for your comfort level.

For more poetry, check out the stops on the 2013 National Poetry Month Blog Tour and the 2012 National Poetry Month Blog Tour.

Signup for the 2014 National Poetry Month Blog Tour: Reach for the Horizon

Today’s poem is from W. D. Snodgrass:

Who Steals My Good Name

                  For the person who obtained my debit card number and spent $11,000 in five days.

My pale stepdaughter, just off the school bus,   
Scowled, "Well, that's the last time I say my name's   
Snodgrass!" Just so, may that anonymous   
Mexican male who prodigally claims   

My clan lines, identity and the sixteen   
Digits that unlock my bank account,   
Think twice. That less than proper name's been   
Taken by three ex-wives, each for an amount   

Past all you've squandered, each more than pleased   
To change it back. That surname you affect   
May have more consequence than getting teased   
By dumb kids or tracked down by bank detectives.   

Don't underrate its history: one of ours played   
Piano on his prison's weekly broadcast;   
One got rich on a scammed quiz show; one made   
A bungle costing the World Series. My own past   

Could subject you to guilt by association:   
If you write anything more than false checks,   
Abandon all hope of large press publication   
Or prizes—critics shun the name like sex

Without a condom. Whoever steals my purse   
Helps chain me to my writing desk again   
For fun and profit. So take thanks with my curse:   
May your pen name help send you to your pen.

What do you think?

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244th Virtual Poetry Circle

March 8, 2014 by

Welcome to the 244th Virtual Poetry Circle!

Remember, this is just for fun and is not meant to be stressful.

Keep in mind what Molly Peacock’s book suggested.

Look at a line, a stanza, sentences, and images; describe what you like or don’t like; and offer an opinion. If you missed my review of her book, check it out here.

Also, sign up for the 2014 Dive Into Poetry Reading Challenge because there are several levels of participation for your comfort level.

For more poetry, check out the stops on the 2013 National Poetry Month Blog Tour and the 2012 National Poetry Month Blog Tour.

Signup for the 2014 National Poetry Month Blog Tour: Reach for the Horizon

 

 

Today’s poem is from Calef Brown from Flamingos on the roof: poems and paintings in honor of Wiggles’ birthday!

Birthday Lights

Light bulbs on a birthday cake.
What a difference that would make!
     Plug it in and make a wish,
     then relax and flip a switch!
No more smoke
      or waxy mess
      to bother any birthday guests.
But Grampa says, “it’s not the same!
      Where’s the magic?
       Where’s the flame?
To get your wish without a doubt,
You need to blow some candles out!”

What do you think?

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243rd Virtual Poetry Circle

March 1, 2014 by

Welcome to the 243rd Virtual Poetry Circle!

Remember, this is just for fun and is not meant to be stressful.

Keep in mind what Molly Peacock’s book suggested.

Look at a line, a stanza, sentences, and images; describe what you like or don’t like; and offer an opinion. If you missed my review of her book, check it out here.

Also, sign up for the 2014 Dive Into Poetry Reading Challenge because there are several levels of participation for your comfort level.

For more poetry, check out the stops on the 2013 National Poetry Month Blog Tour and the 2012 National Poetry Month Blog Tour.  And think about participating in the 2014 National Poetry Month Blog Tour — signups will begin in NEXT WEEK.

Today’s poem is from John Yau‘s Further Adventures in Monochrome:

Confessions of a Recycled Shopping Bag

I used to be a plastic bottle

I used to be scads of masticated wattle

I used to be epic spittle, aka septic piddle

I used to be a pleasant colleague

I used to be a radiant ingredient

I used to be a purple polyethylene pony

I used to be a phony upload project

I used to be a stony blue inhalant

I used to be a family-size turquoise bottle

I used to be a domesticated pink bubble

I used to be a pleasant red colleague

I used to be a beaming cobalt emollient

I used to be a convenient chartreuse antidepressant

What do you think?

Also as an added bonus today, check out the next installment of 12 Moons

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242nd Virtual Poetry Circle

February 22, 2014 by

Welcome to the 242nd Virtual Poetry Circle!

Remember, this is just for fun and is not meant to be stressful.

Keep in mind what Molly Peacock’s book suggested.

Look at a line, a stanza, sentences, and images; describe what you like or don’t like; and offer an opinion. If you missed my review of her book, check it out here.

Also, sign up for the 2014 Dive Into Poetry Reading Challenge because there are several levels of participation for your comfort level.

For more poetry, check out the stops on the 2013 National Poetry Month Blog Tour and the 2012 National Poetry Month Blog Tour.  And think about participating in the 2014 National Poetry Month Blog Tour — signups will begin in March.

Today’s poem is from Farnoosh Fathi from Great Guns:

Brasil

Left a hole on fire agony or was it the sun
on the banks and near duets?
Eagles with the white wine of the sun
clink and spill, tall
grass over head and heels
. . . Space of hell: shy, inscribed already
but alone— I think I can be that

again, a new hole in the ongoing flute.
In a leap, the country glows— to hone
the fate that wonder exacts,
to go netted through that much,
so heavy as paperweights angels land
square on chaparral nerves.
And since names must give in spades,
out of sorts like these, your reactions
may swell great fountain lips—
a promise that a wish will purge
or pennies caravan the safe
return hearts cross.

What do you think?

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