Poetry Month Is Coming

It’s that time of year again, Gentle Reader. National Poetry Month kicks off April 1.

Small Pond will continue its now 3-year-old tradition of a poem-a-day. You can find previous years’ poetry posts at the Poetry Month page.

That’s not to say the occasional, non-poetry post won’t make its way to your screens, but you can count on a different poem each and every day through April.

As always, the poems will be a mix of modern and classic, of my new favorites and poems I’ve loved for years, of poets I’ve admired since I started reading poetry and new poets I’ve just discovered while prepping for April 2013.

Hope you enjoy the coming month!

Another April Comes to a Close

It’s May. Another Poetry Month celebration on Small Pond has come to a close.

I hope you enjoyed this year’s selections. They skewed modern/contemporary this year. Maybe 2013 will see more classics throughout the list or maybe I’ll devote the entire month to the classics. Who knows?

As I did last year, the 2012 selections will make their way to the blog’s Poetry Month page. Stop by often for your poetry fix.

Later on this month, the blog returns to its scattershot approach of posts, both in terms of schedule and topics.

Poetry Month: Old Dog (Stafford)

Old Dog

Toward the last in the morning she could not
get up, even when I rattled her pan.
I helped her into the yard, but she stumbled
and fell. I knew it was time.

The last night a mist drifted over the fields.
In the morning she would not raise her head–
the far, clear mountains we had walked
surged back to mind.

We looked a slow bargain: our days together
were the ones we had already had.
I gave her something the vet had given,
and patted her still, a good last friend.

– William Stafford, from Someday, Maybe

Poetry Month: And Some Were Playing Cards (Ashbery)

And Some Were Playing Cards,
     and Some Were Playing Dice

And there you have it. I can’t overpraise your response
Though I can clock it by its choked glimmer,
Like a night sound for which there is no explanation.

And I can see farther out of the situation of you and me
By the wan halo it insistently projects.
I am here. There is no such person as you,
Yet you are funny, and silly, and in your voice there are
Abrupt meanders and chambers so casual I cannot
Think of listening any longer. Deaf, you understand too much
And absolutely do not want this knowledge
Though to people on earth it looks like a circus in the sky
And the weather that depends on it is talked about for days.

– John Ashbery, from April Galleons

Poetry Month: Truth (Kumin)

Truth

Came varnished,
prepackaged, required
scissors to break the seal.
Worn raw from use, reuse
it put up splinters.
I sanded it, wiped it
clear with turpentine.
Like the look of it
newborn. Thought about
polyurethane, two coats
at least–varnish is old hat.
Rethought the climate:
cutting, quick to punish.
Went out for more varnish.

– Maxine Kumin, in The New Yorker

Want more? Visit Kumin’s web site.