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260th Virtual Poetry Circle

Welcome to the 260th 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 Another World Instead: The Early Poems of William Stafford 1937-1947, edited by Fred Marchant:

Sub-urban (page 120)

In any town I must live near the rind,
where the animals come around nibbling.
Everything else inside may be designed,
but near is an edge, not confined.

They must be animals, that, though mild,
come straying in only by night-time.
They don't belong, but come anyway, beguiled
by light, but ready to bold for the wild.

That's how the wilds and I belong
around any kind of a city:
in front of us lights and all the glory and stir.
but back of us—country, as friendly as fur.

                 Berkeley, California
                 September 7, 1947

What do you think?

 

147th Virtual Poetry Circle

Welcome to the 147th Virtual Poetry Circle!

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

Keep in mind what Molly Peacock’s books 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 2012 Fearless Poetry Reading Challenge because its simple; you only need to read 1 book of poetry. Please visit the stops on the National Poetry Month Blog Tour from April 2011 and beginning again in April 2012.

Today’s poems is from William Stafford:

Once in the 40's

We were alone one night on a long
road in Montana. This was in winter, a big
night, far to the stars. We had hitched,
my wife and I, and left our ride at
a crossing to go on. Tired and cold--but
brave--we trudged along. This, we said,
was our life, watched over, allowed to go
where we wanted. We said we'd come back some time
when we got rich. We'd leave the others and find
a night like this, whatever we had to give,
and no matter how far, to be so happy again.

What do you think?

***For Today’s National Poetry Month post, go to Wordcoaster.