I’m on a poetry fix, where I just read poetry all the time. And it’s funny because, before these past two weeks, I hated poetry. A partial bias of mine is that I don’t like writing poetry. I’m absolutely terrible with formats, rhyming, and applying strong/meaningful words under strict rules. I now realize though, that these difficulties that I have with poems actually makes me appreciate reading good poetry a lot more. And with this newfound passion for hunting down good poems, I’m going to feature a few.
The Quiet World by Jeffrey McDaniel
In an effort to get people to look
into each other’s eyes more,
and also to appease the mutes,
the government has decided
to allot each person exactly one hundred
and sixty-seven words, per day.When the phone rings, I put it to my ear
without saying hello. In the restaurant
I point at chicken noodle soup.
I am adjusting well to the new way.Late at night, I call my long distance lover,
proudly say I only used fifty-nine today.
I saved the rest for you.When she doesn’t respond,
I know she’s used up all her words,
so I slowly whisper I love you
thirty-two and a third times.
After that, we just sit on the line
and listen to each other breathe.
My favorite part in this poem is the line thirty-two and a third times. I don’t know why, but the heart of the math nerd in me flutters when I read it.
The Bustle in a House by Emily Dickinson
The bustle in a house
The morning after death
Is solemnest of industries
Enacted upon earth, –The sweeping up the heart,
And putting love away
We shall not want to use again
Until eternity.
I love this poem because I had just recently lost my grandma when I read it, and this poem struck a chord with my mother.
Since Feeling is First by e e cummings
since feeling is first
who pays any attention
to the syntax of things
will never wholly kiss you;wholly to be a fool
while Spring is in the worldmy blood approves,
and kisses are a better fate
than wisdom
lady i swear by all the flowers. Don’t cry
- the best gesture of my brain is less than
your eyelids’ flutter which sayswe are for each other: then
laugh, leaning back in my arms
for life’s not a paragraphand death i think is no parenthesis
Besides “i carry your heart with me” and “i like my body when it is with your,” this is my favorite poem by e e cummings. I really like the comparison between life/death to punctuation at the end.
So, what are your favorite poems and poets?