Poetry Appreciation Day

I hereby declare Friday the 28th of March to be Poetry Appreciation Day in my cozy little corner of the blogosphere!

Here's one of my favourites...Bluebird by Charles Bukowski...what's one of yours?

Comments

[Tracy]

Woohoo! Poetry appreciation day! I'll be sure to read out loud my all favourite Dorothy Parker poems on the bus ride to work tomorrow. Yay!

"Bluebird" is a goody. I love Bukowski :)

[nikkisioux]

Pablo Neruda is one of my very favorite poets,

Here is a snippet from "Black Pantheress":

"She walked,
like a holocaust; and closing her eyes,
touched the invisible, boundless as smoke,
and was one with the night."

[mandy]

Hi Girl,
Poetry appreciation day, I like it.
Here's my little contribution (as a knitter) to your celebration, AND it's my birthday today (in France at least)
Ode to a pair of socks

Maru Mori brought me
a pair
of socks
that she knit with her
shepherd's hands.
Two socks as soft
as rabbit fur.
I thrust my feet
inside them
as if they were
two
little boxes
knit
from threads
of sunset
and sheepskin.

My feet were
two woolen
fish
in those outrageous socks,
two gangly,
navy-blue sharks
impaled
on a golden thread,
two giant blackbirds,
two cannons:
thus
were my feet
honored
by
those
heavenly
socks.
They were
so beautiful
I found my feet
unlovable
for the very first time,
like two crusty old
firemen, firemen
unworthy
of that embroidered
fire,
those incandescent
socks.

Nevertheless
I fought
the sharp temptation
to put them away
the way schoolboys
put
fireflies in a bottle,
the way scholars
hoard
holy writ.
I fought
the mad urge
to lock them
in a golden
cage
and feed them birdseed
and morsels of pink melon
every day.
Like jungle
explorers
who deliver a young deer
of the rarest species
to the roasting spit
then wolf it down
in shame,
I stretched
my feet forward
and pulled on
those
gorgeous
socks,
and over them
my shoes.

So this is
the moral of my ode:
beauty is beauty
twice over
and good things are doubly
good
when you're talking about a pair of wool
socks
in the dead of winter.

Pablo Neruda.

I'd like to dedicate it while I'm here to all my lyrical sock knitting pals.

I love your work, keep it coming.

Mandy. A Scot in France.

[http://erinpetersonart.blogspot.com]

I posted one of my favorites on my blog a while back. The poet is Richard Behm.
After I posted it, the poet himself had found it and left me a comment! It was pretty exciting, even if he did probably google himself to find me. ^_^ It's ok, though, because all artists have egos. Even little old me. Why else would I have a blog? Anyway...here's the poem:

For warmth and lust I guess they've left
The ground to twine upon the pavement,
Ceased their ceaseless burrowing,
Their dark and subtle alchemy
Of turning rot to green, and now,
Foolish as any human lovers,
Risk all upon the throbbing moment,
Believing the moment transcends.

And even I, a careful walker,
Cannot this night keep from squishing
These earthly couplings, and so take off
My shoes and socks. For if I must be
The giant of thier deaths, I will do it
Flesh to Flesh, dancing the best I can,
Torn between the need to watch my step
And knowing a larger foot descends.

[goodfeets]

view the action poetry of Billy collins

http://www.bcactionpoet.org/