poetry / Take a Poem Leave a Poem

Take a Poem, Leave a Poem II

It’s time for another Take a Poem, Leave a Poem segment on the blog. To show you how it works, my first Take a Poem, Leave a Poem post is below:

I’ve been inspired by the “take a penny, leave a penny” jar at the local deli.

Poems in the jar today:

“Arf” by Jack Myers
Naomi Shihab Nye reading her found poem “One Boy Told Me”
“Con el dolor de la mortal herida” or “Love Opened a Mortal Wound” by Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz, translated by Jaime Manrique and Joan Larkin
“In Praise of Noise” by James Arthur
“A Coin-Operated Railroad” by Mary Biddinger 

Please take at least one, and please leave a story or a poem in it’s place in the comments section.

Happy reading! Andrea


7 thoughts on “Take a Poem, Leave a Poem II

  1. Thanks for these, Andrea! I enjoyed this D. Nurkse poem I read earlier this morning.The SimulacraThey were driving into the mountains, suddenly married,sometimes touching each other’s cheek with a fingernailgingerly: the radio played ecstatic static: certain roadsmarked with blue enamel numbers led to cloud banks,or basalt screes, or dim hotels with padlocked verandas.Sometimes they quarreled, sometimes they grew old,the wind was constant in their eyes, it was their own wind,they made it. Small towns flew past, Rodez, Albi,limestone quarries, pear orchards, children racingafter hoops, wobbling when their shadows wavered,infants crying for fine rain, old women on stoopsdarning gray veils—and who were we, watching?Doubles, ghosts, the ones who would tell of the fieldwhere they pulled over, bluish tinge of the elms, steepnessof the other’s eyes, glowworm hidden in its own glint,how the rain was twilight and now is darkness.

  2. Mary Biddinger is so awesome. Thanks for including her poem here…I enjoyed it.Here's a Rachel Loden poem that I love: "What the Gravedigger Needs." http://www.cstone.net/~poems/whattlod.htmWhat the Gravedigger Needs Teuva, Finland overalls rubber boots leather gloves iron spear to loosen up the frozen ground lantern spade length of rope board to prevent mourners falling in bicycle to go from grave to grave Rachel Loden New American Writing Number 24, 2006

  3. “One Boy Told me” is one of my favorites.

    Here’s one from the book I’m reading right now, Even in Quiet Places.

    Deep Light by William Stafford

    From far a light, maybe a hill ranch
    remote and unvisited, beams on the horizon
    when we pass; then it is gone.
    For the rest of our lives that far place
    waits; it’s an increment, one more
    hollow that slips by out there, almost
    a gift, an acquaintance taken away.

    Still, beyond all ranches the deep
    night waits, breathing when we breathe,
    always ready to offer new light,
    over and over, so long as we search
    for something so faint most people
    won’t know, even when it is found.

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