Elizabeth Barrett Browning #poetry

#Poetry from Anya Krugovoy Silver’s posthumous collection, after fourteen years with metastatic breast cancer: Pt. 2

Poetry from Anya Krugovoy Silver’s posthumous collection, after fourteen years with metastatic breast cancer: Pt. 1 #poetry

Kay Ryan #poetry

Gjertrud Schnackenberg #poetry

Paul J. Pastor, The Locust Years #poetry

St. John of the Cross trans. Rhina P. Espaillat #poetry

Li-Young Lee. I decided to avoid the famous poems and to strictly limit myself to one page poems. These all happen to be from Book of My Nights. #poetry

Linda Pastan, Carnival Evening #poetry

I feel like Linda Pastan missed an opportunity when she left this poem in free verse, as the formalist knows the pain of a rogue syllable like no other. Still, a good chuckle!

I’m late to Jacob Shores-Argüello’s In the Absence of Clocks. His subject, Ukraine, is as relevant as ever, though part of his book is set in the Orange Revolution of the aughts.

#poetry #WilliamStafford from Ask Me

Overall, I preferred The Niagara River (which immediately made Kay Ryan a favorite poet; I was keen on nearly every poem) to Erratic Facts. But who’s complaining when you’ve got gems to hold to the light? #poetry

From Rhina P. Espaillat’s The Field #poetry

My ear would be so pleased if more contemporary poets heeded Annie Finch’s observation in A Poet’s Craft when giving iambics a whir. #poetry

#poetry

Lisel Mueller #poetry

#poetry Lisel Mueller in The New Yorker

#poetry #AnnaKrugovoySilver

I decided to explore #AnyaKrugovoySilver via the bookends—her first and her posthumous last volumes. From the first:

My unread #poetry stash was already substantial and is growing embarrassingly fast (with Merwin, Kooser, more James Richardson, Anya Krugovoy Silver, Li-Young Lee, and some translations en route 😳) while I slowly rotate through a few thick tomes… and relish the elegance of #RichardWilbur again.

#RichardWilbur has many fine translations.

A phenomenal human and a self-giving leader in a time when that feels in short supply. Enter your rest.

There is nothing like a black bear slapping his palm on each of two windows not eight feet from you and seemingly waving hi to create a little midnight excitement! I waited to approach the window, only to see a red fox (yay! I feared they were gone) and a skunk in quick succession.

#RichardWilbur #poetry

What a fun poem from #JamesRichardson! #poetry

Today’s poetry foundation offering:

www.newyorker.com/magazine/201... #poetry #JamesRichardson

George Herbert with a love poem that would suit St. V himself.