and all the while
the Chinese cat arm waves
its eyes fixed doggedly in a direction
i can’t see
next to me
the fashionable martini blonde
bats eyelashes in baby voice
to a male back turning and giving me
the cold shoulder,
and all the while
the Chinese cat arm waves…
Category Archives: poetry
God is a Hoarder
God is a hoarder
Piles us up like so many
newspapers or cats or
other items that mortals collect
Has a compulsion to keep even
us degenerate,
withering souls
thinking one day,
some day,
this just may be worth something…
Red Balloon Rising by Laurel Blossom
I hope you enjoy the lovely poem by Laurel Blossom as much as I did. And here’s the link if you care to read my essay on E.B. White, also one of my favorite writers (as referenced by Ted Kooser below).
American Life in Poetry: Column 369
BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006
E.B. White, one of my favorite writers, used to say, “Simplify, simplify, simplify,” but that doesn’t mean that writing has to be simple, which is a different matter. Here’s a fine poem by Laurel Blossom of South Carolina that’s been simplified into a pure, clean beauty.
Red Balloon Rising
I tied it to your wrist
With a pretty pink bow, torn off
By the first little tug of wind.
I’m sorry.
I jumped to catch it, but not soon enough.
It darted away.
It still looked large and almost within reach.
Like a heart.
Watch, I said.
You squinted your little eyes.
The balloon looked happy, waving
Good-bye.
The sky is very high today, I said.
Red went black, a polka dot,
Then not. We watched it,
Even though we couldn’t
Spot it anymore at all.
Even after that.
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 ©2011 by Laurel Blossom, whose most recent book of poetry is “Degrees of Latitude” Four Way Books, 2007. Poem reprinted from “Pleiades,” Vol. 31, no. 1, 2011, by permission of Laurel Blossom 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
she, undone swan,
she
into view
wearing heels, clearly hair
undone
teeters to the
brick walk edge, how a black
swan
in one swift
lurch chokes down a fish
she
clasps hands
disappears from view.
self-fulfilling prophecy (haiku on shadows)
every time I fail
my shadow, more convinced, grows
larger on the wall.
secret beach in New Zealand
bluest sky touches water
of the same soulful – tangential color
cliffs of burnt orange sandstone
accept back rubs from salty air
and sigh easy from small windows
green pines – palms – ferns and the ever
buzzing tenants of the rainforest
commune and argue pleasantly
while the water
-always the favorite-
continues to splash playfully alone.
incredulity (or spring miracles)
above me those heavy limbs of blossoms
gently tickle a sky of blue –
i am watching a leaf form, it’s beginning ache
and tenuous, tenacious first push off the branch
to feed off the sun, to feel a cool breeze,
oh that same breath
bringing down petals in such expressive state
as we both shake heads in incredulity.
Prairie Sure by Carol Light
Simply fantastic poem today from Ted Kooser’s column. If you haven’t checked out his “American Life in Poetry” yet – now is the day. For a born and bred East Coaster, this poem surprised me and actually made me long to live on the plains.
American Life in Poetry: Column 367
BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006
I’ve lived on the Great Plains all my life, and if I ever left this region for too long, I would dearly
miss it. This lovely poem by Carol Light, who lives in Washington state, reminds me of that.
Prairie Sure
Would I miss the way a breeze dimples
the butter-colored curtains on Sunday mornings,
or nights gnashed by cicadas and thunderstorms?
The leaning gossip, the half-alive ripple
of sunflowers, sagging eternities of corn
and sorghum, September preaching yellow, yellow
in all directions, the windowsills swelling
with Mason jars, the blue sky bluest borne
through tinted glass above the milled grains?
The dust, the heat, distrusted, the screen door
slapping as the slat-backed porch swing sighs,
the hatch of houseflies, the furlongs of freight trains,
and how they sing this routine, so sure, so sure—
the rote grace of every tempered life?
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 ©2011 by Carol Light, whose poems have been published in Prairie Schooner, Poetry Northwest and elsewhere. Poem reprinted from The Literary Bohemian, Issue 12, June 2011, by permission of Carol Light 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.
bread meets butter (haiku)
thrill! how it melts like
jungle sunsets dripping hot,
every pore filled up.
The big empty that follows
Spent in our arrant contest