Showing posts from April, 2015

Dulce Et Decorum Est — National Poetry Month

Dulce Et Decorum Est Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs And towards our distant rest began to trudge. Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind; Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots Of disappointed shells that dropped behind. GAS! Gas! Quick, boys!-- An ecstasy of fumbling, Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time; But someone still was yelling out and stumbling And floundering like a man in fire or lime.-- Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light As under a green sea, I saw him drowning. In all my dreams, before my helpless sight, He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning. If in some smothering dreams you too could pace Behind the wagon that we flung him in, And watch the white eyes writhing in his face, His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;

XIII (Dedications), during National Poetry Month

I include for your considerations one of my favorite poems. Every time I read it, I feel like it reveals one more wonderful image previously unnoticed. And yes, I include it every year. I shall continue to do so if I wish. It, simply, is that deserving. Visit Hedgehog Lover to enjoy a poem every day during National Poetry Month; however, I will post poems from time to time From One Book Lover during April. Poetry is that deserving. Thank you for reading it! XIII (Dedications) I know you are reading this poem late, before leaving your office of the one intense yellow lamp-spot and the darkening window in the lassitude of a building faded to quiet long after rush-hour. I know you are reading this poem standing up in a bookstore far from the ocean on a gray day of early spring, faint flakes driven across the plains' enormous spaces around you. I know you are reading this poem in a room where too much has happened for you to bear where the bedclothes lie in sta

National Poetry Month: The seder's order

The seder's order The songs we join in are beeswax candles burning with no smoke a clean fire licking at the evening our voices small flames quivering. The songs string us like beads on the hour. The ritual is its own melody that leads us where we have gone before and hope to go again, the comfort of year after year. Order: we must touch each base of the haggadah as we pass, blessing, handwashing, dipping this and that. Voices half harmonize on the brukhahs. Dear faces like a multitude of moons hang over the table and the truest brief blessing: affection and peace that we make. by Marge Piercy , from The Crooked Inheritance courtesy The Poetry Foundation  Stop by Hedgehog Lover to get a poem a day during National Poetry Month!

National Poetry Month: Richard

Richard My bones, scripted in light, upon cold soil, a human braille. My skull, scarred by a crown, emptied of history. Describe my soul as incense, votive, vanishing; your own the same. Grant me the carving of my name. These relics, bless. Imagine you re-tie a broken string and on it thread a cross, the symbol severed from me when I died. The end of time – an unknown, unfelt loss – unless the Resurrection of the Dead … or I once dreamed of this, your future breath in prayer for me, lost long, forever found; or sensed you from the backstage of my death, as kings glimpse shadows on a battleground. by Carol Ann Duffy, Poet Laureate of England  Read by Benedict Cumberbatch at the Richard III reburial service Celebrate National Poetry Month: visit Hedgehog Lover to enjoy a poem a day in April.