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All the Poetry

All the Poetry

Sharing as much poetry as possible

102 members
Posted bypoetically
Leader
in/allthepoetry-Jan 26 at 10:00 AM

Daily Share Post: January 26

  • poems
  • poetry discussion
  • poetry recs

What poems have you read and loved today? Have you written any? Please post in the comments or link to a top-level post in the comm!

Comments4
  • poeticallyJan 26 at 2:17 PM

    Anyways by Suzanne Cleary has been a favorite since I first encountered it:

    Anyone born anywhere near
         my home town says it this way,
              with an s on the end:
                   “The lake is cold but I swim in it anyways,”
              “Kielbasa gives me heartburn but I eat it anyways,”
         “(She/he) treats me bad, but I love (her/him) anyways.”
    Even after we have left that place
         and long settled elsewhere, this
              is how we say it, plural.
                   I never once, not once, thought twice about it
              until my husband, a man from far away,
          leaned toward me, one day during our courtship,
    his grey-green eyes, which always sparkle,
         doubly sparkling over our candle-lit meal.
              “Anyway,” he said. And when he saw
                   that I didn’t understand, he repeated the word:
              “Anyway. Way, not ways.”
          Corner of napkin to corner of lip, he waited.
    I kept him waiting. I knew he was right,
         but I kept him waiting anyways,
              in league, still, with me and mine:
                   Slovaks homesick for the Old Country their whole lives
              who dug gardens anyways,
          and deep, hard-water wells.
    I looked into his eyes, their smoky constellations,
         and then I told him. It is anyways, plural,
              because the word must be large enough
         to hold all of our reasons. Anyways is our way
    of saying there is more than one reason,
         and there is that which is beyond reason,
              that which cannot be said.
                   A man dies and his widow keeps his shirts.
              They are big but she wears them anyways.
         The shoemaker loses his life savings in the Great Depression
    but gets out of bed, every day, anyways.
         We are shy, my people, not given to storytelling.
              We end our stories too soon, trailing off “Anyways….”
                   The carpenter sighs, “I didn’t need that finger anyways.”
              The beauty school student sighs, “It’ll grow back anyways.”
         Our faith is weak, but we go to church anyways.
    The priest at St. Cyril’s says God loves us. We hear what isn’t said.
         This is what he must know about me, this man, my love.
              My people live in the third rainiest city in the country,
                   but we pack our picnic baskets as the sky darkens.
              We fall in love knowing it may not last, but we fall.
         This is how we know home:
    someone who will look into our eyes
         and say what could ruin everything, but say it,
              regardless.
    
    • Esther JonesJan 26 at 3:31 PM

      I love this (even though 'anyways' makes me cringe).

  • Esther JonesJan 26 at 2:10 PM

    The Fly
    by William Blake
    from Songs of Experience

    Little fly,
    Thy summer’s play
    My thoughtless hand
    Has brushed away.

    Am not I
    A fly like thee?
    Or art not thou
    A man like me?

    For I dance
    And drink and sing,
    Till some blind hand
    Shall brush my wing.

    If thought is life
    And strength and breath,
    And the want
    Of thought is death,

    Then am I
    A happy fly,
    If I live,
    Or if I die.

    • poeticallyJan 26 at 2:17 PM

      I've always loved Blake. Such vivid, light poems.

All the Poetry

All the Poetry

Sharing as much poetry as possible

102 members
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