A Quoi Bon Dire by Charlotte Mew Seventeen years ago you said Something that sounded like Good-bye; And everybody thinks that you are dead, But I. So I, as I grow stiff and cold To this and that say Good-bye too; And everybody sees that I am old But you. And one fine morning in […]
One of These Is Not A Poem (#678)
#1. The Windhover By Gerard Manley Hopkins I caught this morning morning’s minion, king- dom of daylight’s dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn Falcon, in his riding Of the rolling level underneath him steady air, and striding High there, how he rung upon the rein of a wimpling wing In his ecstasy! then off, off forth on swing, As […]
One of These is a Poem (#2 in a series)
#1. The Hill We Climb By Amanda Gorman When day comes we ask ourselves, where can we find light in this never- ending shade? The loss we carry, a sea we must wade. We’ve braved the belly of the beast, we’ve learned that quiet isn’t always peace and the norms and notions of what just […]