Category Archives: poem

Capt. F. A. Rhodes Jr. 1/3/71, POW

Etched name in silver reflects a man
engraved in a fight not his own,
a name i can run
my fingers on like Braille,
it is all i know —
of his uniform stained or how
the sweat of the jungle
may have flowed
between the stubble on his lip.
What could it have been
but a deafening thunder that rose
into clouds disappearing
as certain as smoke.

the way a flower sleeps

the way a flower sleeps when such nocturnal blanket through the blinds
gently folds the silky daisy petals toward each other
until the sun-shaped glory has become a half moon; it’s
the way a body folds in yoga
the way the cat curls its paw, with tufts of fur, over its eyes to block out
the electric hum of this laptop clicking, so desperate to know what
lives in those dreams of flowers and cats.

Sometimes, When the Light by Lisel Mueller (guest post)

Once again, Ted Kooser’s column has really struck a cord with me, and once again, they’ve kindly allowed me to republish it here. Mueller’s piece is the perfect way to start the New Year! Enjoy friends and cheers to a great 2012!

American Life in Poetry: Column 354
BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006

A wise friend told me that since the Age of Reason we’ve felt we had to explain everything, and
that as a result we’ve forgotten the value of mystery. Here’s a poem by Lisel Mueller that
celebrates mystery. Mueller is a Pulitzer Prize winning poet from Illinois.

Sometimes, When the Light

Sometimes, when the light strikes at odd angles
and pulls you back into childhood

and you are passing a crumbling mansion
completely hidden behind old willows

or an empty convent guarded by hemlocks
and giant firs standing hip to hip,

you know again that behind that wall,
under the uncut hair of the willows

something secret is going on,
so marvelous and dangerous

that if you crawled through and saw,
you would die, or be happy forever.

American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org),
publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of
Nebraska, Lincoln. Poem copyright ©1980 by Lisel Mueller, from her most recent book of poems, Alive
Together: New and Selected Poems, Louisiana State University Press, 1996. Poem reprinted by permission
of Lisel Mueller and the publisher. Introduction copyright 2012 by The Poetry Foundation. The
introduction’s author, Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the
Library of Congress from 2004-2006. We do not accept unsolicited manuscripts.
 
American Life in Poetry ©2006 The Poetry Foundation
Contact: alp@poetryfoundation.org
This column does not accept unsolicited poetry.

traditions on Christmas Eve

Christmas waits like gift wrap glowing warm beneath the welcoming arms
of pine needles hanging heavy –
inside the table is set, waiting by candlelight, and each flame preens
in a spoon’ s reflection, giving the impression of a smile.

Soon, with guided hands, we set the course of helgdad frukt soppa.
I’ll sigh like the cinnamon from the svenske kringlor rising in the oven,
knotted just how our grandmother taught us.

Dull Moments? By Alice B. Johnson

The small house, very much alive,
Wonders if we all are bent,
On making life some sort of game
And looks on with a deep content

At bicycles and bathing suits,
Bats and roller skates,
Bobby-socks and dungarees
And diaries and dates —
First tuxedo to appraise,
Bow tie to approve,
Clothes discarded on the floor
Everywhere I move —
High school year books, trophies won,
Commencement and a formal prom,
Phone bell or a door bell’s ring,
“Is it Jack or Bill or Tom?”
Corsages using up the space
That always was reserved
For more important things – like food –
For dinner to be served.

It seems to say, “Dull moments where
Life lifts its restless wing?
Peace is found in homes where youth
Knows no journeying.”

[taken from Where Childern Live (1958) by my great-grandmother Alice B. Johnson]