tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-139094212011-12-14T21:37:06.800-05:00Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.comBlogger2381100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-26997649479413485022009-08-18T21:14:00.000-04:002009-08-18T21:14:16.033-04:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006Judy Loest lives in Knoxville and, like many fine Appalachian writers, her poems have a welcoming conversational style, rooted in that region's storytelling tradition. How gracefully she sweeps us into the landscape and the scene!FaithLeaves drift from the cemetery oaks onto late grass,Sun-singed, smelling like straw, the insides of old barns.The stone

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-23372960835864721292009-05-31T10:45:00.007-04:002009-06-17T12:58:08.550-04:00

Someone has registered the domain name ruhamacanellis.com and is offering it for sale. The contact email address listed on the site belongs to a high ranking member of a Miami based religious cult that has been openly going after Alberto Cutie and the Roman Catholic Church for years.by Gilbert Wesley Purdy.On May 8th ― the day that Ruhama Buni Canellis was identified by the UPI as the love

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-1119568159309676872009-05-28T19:32:00.001-04:002009-05-31T09:33:45.617-04:00

News:Alberto Cutie Enters the Episcopal Church with Ruhama Canellis by his Side (Article, 5/28/09). "As I write this, the various television crews are still shooting their “fake live shots” inside the cathedral, with the Cathdral's Italian mosaics for backdrop. The CBS truck is outside my window, camera mounted on its tripod and 30 foot transmitter deployed waiting for its reporter."New Poetry:

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-38773807324028688322009-05-28T18:05:00.007-04:002009-06-01T05:00:19.107-04:00

I received the call at 10:00 last night. The Roman Catholic Priest, Father Alberto Cutie, would be arriving at Trinity Episcopal Cathedral today to formally join the Episcopalian church. I was given a short list of additional work items for the morning. Nobody had much of any idea what is done on such occasions, least of all myself.The media began to show up in force at about 11:30 this morning.

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-86518667406352393472009-05-07T20:41:00.001-04:002009-05-07T20:43:36.287-04:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006To commemorate Mother's Day, here's a lovely poem by David Wojahn of Virginia, remembering his mother after forty years.Walking to School, 1964Blurring the window, the snowflakes' numb white lanterns.She's brewed her coffee, in the bathroom sprays cologneAnd sets her lipstick upright on the sink.The door ajar, I glimpse the yellow slip,The rose-colored

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-71166631927623194492009-05-06T18:45:00.001-04:002009-05-06T18:55:53.713-04:00

Poet Elizabeth Alexander, who will read a poem at the 2009 Inauguration, discusses President-elect Barack Obama and his relationship with language. By Elizabeth AlexanderPoetry Media ServicePoetry Media ServiceThe Joint Congressional Committee on Inaugural Ceremonies announced on 12.17.08 Alexander's place in the Inaugural Program. This interview is transcribed from a Poetry Foundation "Poetry

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-89762216921121796732009-05-04T19:23:00.001-04:002009-05-06T18:55:31.500-04:00

An interview with the Children's Laureate of Britain.By Bruce BlackPoetry Media ServiceFew of his legions of fans were surprised when Michael Rosen was appointed the fifth Children's Laureate of Britain--the first poet to win the honor. Adored for his tongue twisters, puns, rhymes, riddles, and nonsense verse, Rosen also subtly explores the emotional nuances of childhood, including its more

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-40613241902946828782009-05-03T20:45:00.000-04:002009-05-03T20:45:37.524-04:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006Sometimes I wonder at my wife's forbearance. She's heard me tell the same stories dozens of times, and she still politely laughs when she should. Here's a poem by Susan Browne, of California, that treats an oft-told story with great tenderness.On Our Eleventh AnniversaryYou're telling that story again about your childhood,when you were five years old

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-16677065787081276262009-05-02T07:49:00.000-04:002009-05-02T07:49:50.556-04:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006Bill Holm, one of the most intelligent and engaging writers of our northern plains, died on February 25th. He will be greatly missed. He and I were of the same generation and we shared the same sense of wonder, amusement, and skepticism about the course of technology. I don't yet own an Earbud, but I won't need to, now that we have Bill's

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-58652252378337975762009-04-30T17:44:00.000-04:002009-04-30T17:44:20.588-04:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006We've published this column about American life for over four years, and we have finally found a poem about one of the great American pastimes, bowling. "The Big Lebowski" caught bowling on film, and this poem by Regan Huff of Georgia captures it in words.Occurrence on Washburn AvenueAlice's first strike gets a pat on the back,her second a cheer from

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-51227377785728365592009-04-26T15:25:00.000-04:002009-04-26T15:25:51.700-04:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006Some of you are so accustomed to flying that you no longer sit by the windows. But I'd guess that at one time you gazed down, after dark, and looked at the lights below you with innocent wonder. This poem by Anne Marie Macari of New Jersey perfectly captures the gauziness of those lights as well as the loneliness that often accompanies travel.From the

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-68590975878522245202009-04-24T19:07:00.000-04:002009-04-24T19:08:05.894-04:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006My father was the manager of a store in which chairs were strategically placed for those dutiful souls waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting for shoppers. Such patience is the most exhausting work there is, or so it seems at the time. This poem by Joseph O. Legaspi perfectly captures one of those scenes.At the Bridal ShopThe gowns and dresses

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-32075837957401967352009-04-16T17:36:00.000-04:002009-04-16T17:36:40.318-04:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006I've gotten to the age at which I am starting to strain to hear things, but I am glad to have gotten to that age, all the same. Here's a fine poem by Miller Williams of Arkansas that gets inside a person who is losing her hearing.Going DeafNo matter how she tilts her head to hearshe sees the irritation in their eyes.She knows how they can read a small

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-41177599304906071762009-04-15T16:12:00.000-04:002009-04-15T16:12:16.275-04:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006To have a helpful companion as you travel through life is a marvelous gift. This poem by Gerald Fleming, a long-time teacher in the San Francisco public schools, celebrates just such a relationship.Long MarriageYou're worried, so you wake her& you talk into the dark:Do you think I have cancer, yousay, or Were there wormsin that meat, or Do you thinkour

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-83612716717555419452009-04-13T20:27:00.000-04:002009-04-13T20:27:46.197-04:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006People singing, not professionally but just singing for joy, it's a wonderful celebration of life. In this poem by Sebastian Matthews of North Carolina, a father and son happen upon a handful of men singing in a cafe, and are swept up into their pleasure and community.Barbershop Quartet,East Village GrilleInside the standard lunch hour din they rise,

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-17212436616332304792009-04-09T21:20:00.000-04:002009-04-09T21:21:03.965-04:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006Ah, yes, the mid-life crisis. And there's a lot of mid-life in which it can happen. Jerry Lee Lewis sang of it so well in "He's thirty-nine and holding, holding everything he can." And here's a fine poem by Matthew Vetter, portraying just such a man.Wild FlowersAt fifty-six, having left my mother,my father buys a motorcycle.I imagine him becauseit is

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-59586078652097617342009-04-08T19:30:00.000-04:002009-04-08T19:30:19.961-04:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006Memories have a way of attaching themselves to objects, to details, to physical tasks, and here, George Bilgere, an Ohio poet, happens upon mixed feelings about his mother while slicing a head of cabbage.Corned Beef and CabbageI can see her in the kitchen,Cooking up, for the hundredth time,A little something from herLimited Midwestern

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-6972050259234949292009-04-07T20:35:00.000-04:002009-04-07T20:35:29.701-04:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006Memories form around details the way a pearl forms around a grain of sand, and in this commemoration of an anniversary, Cecilia Woloch reaches back to grasp a few details that promise to bring a cherished memory forward, and succeeds in doing so. The poet lives and teaches in southern California.AnniversaryDidn't I stand there once,white-knuckled,

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-60596903962541451482009-04-05T20:57:00.000-04:002009-04-05T20:58:03.479-04:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006To read in the news that a platoon of soldiers has been killed is a terrible thing, but to learn the name of just one of them makes the news even more vivid and sad. To hold the name of someone or something on our lips is a powerful thing. It is the badge of individuality and separateness. Charles Harper Webb, a California poet, takes advantage of the

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-27151368433286456762009-04-03T20:52:00.001-04:002009-04-03T20:55:05.856-04:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006David Wagoner, who lives in Washington state, is one of our country's most distinguished poets and the author of many wonderful books. He is also one of our best at writing about nature, from which we learn so much. Here is a recent poem by Wagoner that speaks to perseverance.The Cherry TreeOut of the nursery and into the gardenwhere it rooted and

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-54505028375913239802009-04-02T19:16:00.000-04:002009-04-02T19:16:17.170-04:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006Don Welch lives in Nebraska and is one of those many talented American poets who have never received as much attention as they deserve. His poems are distinguished by the meticulous care he puts into writing them, and by their deep intelligence. Here is Welch's picture of a 14-year-old, captured at that awkward and painfully vulnerable step on the way

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-25672226241870204012009-03-31T21:32:00.000-04:002009-03-31T21:33:06.084-04:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006Here's a fine poem by Chris Forhan of Indiana, about surviving the loss of a parent, and which celebrates the lives that survive it, that go on. I especially like the parachute floating up and away, just as the lost father has gone up and away.What My Father Left BehindJam jar of cigarette ends and ashes on his workbench,hammer he nailed our address to

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-48809506087902174542009-03-29T18:41:00.003-04:002009-03-29T18:46:00.457-04:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006I'd guess that most of us carry in our memories landscapes that, far behind us, hold significant meanings for us. For me, it's a Mississippi River scenic overlook south of Guttenberg, Iowa. And for you? Here's just such a memoryscape, in this brief poem by New Yorker Anne Pierson Wiese.Inscrutable TwistThe twist of the stream was inscrutable.It was a

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-29887548865608909052009-03-29T17:41:00.000-04:002009-03-29T17:41:53.071-04:00

In the smallest of landscapes, Scottish poet Kathleen Jamie finds the larger story.By Joanie MackowskiPoetry Foundation Media ServicesKathleen Jamie has worked her way up in a man's world--Scottish poetry. While her poems do sound more lithe than the gruff lyrics of Hugh MacDiarmid, Norman MacCaig, or George Mackay Brown, her phrasings are nonetheless robust and often brusque--quite new to an ear

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-70275317421251330592009-03-17T18:15:00.004-04:002009-03-17T19:00:02.833-04:00

by Gilbert Wesley Purdy Krishna Das greets fans as Father James Reho looks on.Here, on the shores of the North Bay, Trinity Episcopal Cathedral has brought Father James Reho onboard, as Assistant to Dean Douglas McCaleb, for, among other things, creative ideas. Father Reho brings with him years of training in Indian and Western mystical practices, and, as the result, the Cathedral now hosts a

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-1156114250584888432009-03-17T14:06:00.000-04:002009-03-17T14:06:43.881-04:00

Wendell Berry (1934- )Interviews:A Conversation with with Jack Shoemaker (together with Gary Snyder)(Lannan Foundation, November 1999): Real Player;Bob Edwards talks with author Wendell Berry about his novel, A World Lost (National Public Radio, November 2001): Real Player;Field Observations: An Interview with Wendell Berry by Jordan Fisher-Smith(EnviroArts, reprint of Orion 1993);How can a

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-20054746603317764522009-03-10T18:54:00.000-04:002009-03-10T18:54:19.582-04:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006This column has had the privilege of publishing a number of poems by young people, but this is the first we've published by a young person who is also a political refugee. The poet, Zozan Hawez, is from Iraq, and goes to Foster High School in Tukwila, Washington. Seattle Arts & Lectures sponsors a Writers in the Schools program, and Zozan's poem was

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-54431205600783394212009-03-10T18:52:00.001-04:002009-03-29T18:47:20.302-04:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006I suspect that one thing some people have against reading poems is that they are so often so serious, so devoid of joy, as if we poets spend all our time brooding about mutability and death and never having any fun. Here Cornelius Eady, who lives and teaches in Indiana, offers us a poem of pure pleasure.A Small MomentI walk into the bakery next doorTo

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-82380947963321953942009-03-04T19:23:00.000-05:002009-03-04T19:23:31.584-05:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006One of the most effective means for conveying strong emotion is to invest some real object with one's feelings, and then to let the object carry those feelings to the reader. Notice how the gloves in this short poem by Jose Angel Araguz of Oregon carry the heavy weight of the speaker's loss.GlovesI made up a story for myself once,That each glove I

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-64398232201293235042009-03-04T19:20:00.001-05:002009-03-04T19:21:05.920-05:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006Here is a poem, much like a prayer, in which the Michigan poet Conrad Hilberry asks for no more than a little flare of light, an affirmation, at the end of a long, cold Christmas day.Christmas NightLet midnight gather up the windand the cry of tires on bitter snow.Let midnight call the cold dogs home,sleet in their fur--last one can blowthe streetlights

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-34446616294905881502009-02-16T21:17:00.000-05:002009-02-16T21:17:48.694-05:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006Father and child doing a little math homework together; it's an everyday occurrence, but here, Russell Libby, a poet who writes from Three Sisters Farm in central Maine, presents it in a way that makes it feel deep and magical.Applied GeometryApplied geometry,measuring the heightof a pine fromlike triangles,Rosa's shadow stretchesseven paces

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-31528627948729793022009-02-16T21:16:00.000-05:002009-02-16T21:16:19.526-05:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006The first two lines of this poem pose a question many of us may have thought about: how does snow make silence even more silent? And notice Robert Haight's deft use of color, only those few flecks of red, and the rest of the poem pure white. And silent, so silent. Haight lives in Michigan, where people know about snow.How Is It That the SnowHow is it

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-29218199439023387012009-02-12T19:45:00.000-05:002009-02-12T19:45:59.543-05:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006Class, status, privilege; despite all our talk about equality, they're with us wherever we go. In this poem, Pat Mora, who grew up in a Spanish speaking home in El Paso, Texas, contrasts the lives of rich tourists with the less fortunate people who serve them. The titles of poems are often among the most important elements, and this one is loaded with

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-52446880339614894772009-02-12T19:43:00.001-05:002009-02-12T19:44:23.421-05:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006Most of us love to find things, and to discover a quarter on the sidewalk can make a whole day seem brighter. In this poem, Robert Wrigley, who lives in Idaho, finds what's left of a Bible, and describes it so well that we can almost feel it in our hands.Finding a Bible in an Abandoned CabinUnder dust plush as a moth's wing,the book's leather cover

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-31169127381156913952009-02-11T18:56:00.000-05:002009-02-11T18:57:00.235-05:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006Occupational hazards, well, you have to find yourself in the occupation to know about those. Here Minnie Bruce Pratt of Alabama gives us an inside look at a kind of work we all have benefited from but may never have thought much about.Cutting HairShe pays attention to the hair, not her fingers, and cuts herselfonce or twice a day. Doesn't notice anymore

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-65116330124825945362009-02-11T18:55:00.000-05:002009-02-11T18:55:51.360-05:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006In celebration of Veteran's Day, here is a telling poem by Gary Dop, a Minnesota poet. The veterans of World War II, now old, are dying by the thousands. Here's one still with us, standing at Normandy, remembering.On SwearingIn Normandy, at Point Du Hoc,where some Rangers died,Dad pointed to an old man20 feet closer to the edge than us,asking if I could

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-82945959593112610762009-01-18T21:11:00.000-05:002009-01-18T21:11:21.909-05:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006I thought that we'd celebrate Halloween with an appropriate poem, and Iowa poet Dan Lechay's seems just right. The drifting veils of rhyme and meter disclose a ghost, or is it a ghost?Ghost VillanelleWe never saw the ghost, though he was there--we knew from the raindrops tapping on the eaves.We never saw him, and we didn't care.Each day, new sunshine

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-52467057222538144862009-01-18T21:09:00.000-05:002009-01-18T21:09:32.805-05:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006I really like this poem by Dick Allen, partially for the way he so easily draws us in, with his easygoing, conversational style, but also for noticing what he has noticed, the overlooked accompanist there on the stage, in the shadow of the singer.The AccompanistI've always worried about you--the man or womanat the piano bench,night after night receiving

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-89912495219613577572009-01-14T20:07:00.000-05:002009-01-14T20:07:22.152-05:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006Every child can be seen as a miracle, and here Minnesota poet James Lenfestey captures the beautiful mystery of a daughter.DaughterA daughter is not a passing cloud, but permanent,holding earth and sky together with her shadow.She sleeps upstairs like mystery in a story,blowing leaves down the stairs, then cold air, then warm.We who at sixty should know

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-28555545783138187122009-01-14T20:05:00.000-05:002009-01-14T20:05:16.261-05:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006When I was a boy, there were still a few veterans of the Spanish American War, and more of The Great War, or World War I, and now all those have died and those who served in World War II are passing from us, too. Robert Hedin, a Minnesota poet, has written a fine poem about these people.The Old LiberatorsOf all the people in the mornings at the mall,

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-85435209558620948782009-01-08T19:10:00.000-05:002009-01-08T19:10:11.347-05:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006I hope it's not just a guy thing, a delight in the trappings of work. I love this poem by John Maloney, of Massachusetts, which gives us a close look behind the windshields of all those pickup trucks we see heading home from work.After WorkThey're heading home with their lights on, dust and wood glue,yellow dome lights on their metallic long beds: 250s,

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-31011955067629472172009-01-08T19:05:00.001-05:002009-01-08T19:08:24.598-05:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006Perhaps you made paper leaves when you were in grade school. I did. But are our memories as richly detailed as these by Washington, D.C. poet, Judith Harris?Gathering Leaves in Grade SchoolThey were smooth ovals,and some the shade of potatoes--some had been moth-eatenor spotted, the mapleswere starched, and crackledlike campfire.We put them under

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-38127739282072718232008-12-05T20:40:00.000-05:002008-12-05T20:40:25.728-05:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006Poetry has often served to remind us to look more closely, to see what may have been at first overlooked. Today's poem is by Kaelum Poulson of Washington state. A middle school student and already accomplished maker of poems, he writes of the thankless toils of an unlikely but entirely necessary member of our community--the crow!The CrowSo beautifulbut

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-81359252759713233912008-12-05T20:38:00.000-05:002008-12-05T20:38:41.825-05:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006Stuart Kestenbaum, the author of this week's poem, lost his brother Howard in the destruction of the twin towers of the World Trade Center. We thought it appropriate to commemorate the events of September 11, 2001, by sharing this poem. The poet is the director of the Haystack Mountain School of Crafts on Deer Isle, Maine.Prayer for the DeadThe light

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-27819674254843468622008-12-05T20:36:00.000-05:002008-12-05T20:36:51.352-05:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006What's in a name? All of us have thought at one time or another about our names, perhaps asking why they were given to us, or finding meanings within them. Here Emmett Tenorio Melendez, an eleven-year-old poet from San Antonio, Texas, proudly presents us with his name and its meaning.My name came from. . .My name came from my

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-1109675084792542832008-11-07T19:43:00.000-05:002008-11-07T19:43:48.296-05:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006I've always loved shop talk, with its wonderful language of tools and techniques. This poem by D. Nurkse of Brooklyn, New York, is a perfect example. I especially like the use of the verb, lap, in line seven, because that's exactly the sound a four-inch wall brush makes.Bushwick: Latex Flat2001Sadness of just-painted rooms.We clean our toolsmeticulously

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-23420366504919753822008-11-07T19:40:00.000-05:002008-11-07T19:41:06.344-05:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006We mammals are ferociously protective of our young, and we all know not to wander in between a sow bear and her cubs. Here Minnesota poet Gary Dop, without a moment's hesitation, throws himself into the water to save a frightened child.Father, Child, WaterI lift your body to the boatbefore you drown or choke or slip too farbeneath. I didn't think--just

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-66589374991195766532008-09-22T17:11:00.000-04:002008-09-22T17:12:12.705-04:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006Kristen Tracy is a poet from San Francisco who here captures a moment at a zoo. It's the falling rain, don't you think, that makes the experience of observing the animals seem so perfectly truthful and vivid?Rain at the ZooA giraffe presented its head to me, tilting itsideways, reaching out its long gray tongue.I gave it my wheat cracker while small

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-25812745080250628502008-08-31T18:58:00.001-04:002008-09-04T12:31:43.779-04:00

by Jared CarterHe had very strong forearms,as you might imagine, fromsplitting all those fence railsand poling a flatboat downto New Orleans and back.I noticed this in the officewhen he would hand acrosssome enormous law bookwith his right arm extendedand not the slightest tremor.And when he was Presidentamong the many visitorswas a holy man from Indiawho showed him the stanceand the proper use

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-40574579002396302852008-08-31T18:56:00.002-04:002008-09-04T12:32:12.885-04:00

by Jared CarterThe time came when Words had to leave,to go on to the next place. Words decidedto go visit Books, in order to say goodbye.Everyone else – Images, Colors, Sounds –had already gone ahead. Words inquiredat the desk, and was told that most daysBooks would be sitting in a wheel-chair,on a glassed-in porch, looking at the trees.The room was down a narrow hallway.Words had brought a

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-1145476787644360432008-08-31T18:36:00.004-04:002009-03-17T14:08:16.931-04:00

Claudia Emerson's (b. Chatham, Virginia, January 13, 1957 - ) volume Late Wife has been named the winner of the 2006 Pulitzer Prize for Poetry. Her poems have appeared in many journals including: Crazyhorse, The Georgia Review, New England Review, Ploughshares, Poetry, Prairie Schooner, The Southern Review, and TriQuarterly. Her previous volumes of poetry, Pharaoh, Pharaoh (1997) and Pinion, An

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-34353038727323393102008-08-30T21:01:00.000-04:002008-08-30T21:02:13.107-04:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006Hearts and flowers, that's how some people dismiss poetry, suggesting that's all there is to it, just a bunch of sappy poets weeping over love and beauty. Well, poetry is lots more than that. At times it's a means of honoring the simple things about us. To illustrate the care with which one poet observes a flower, here's Frank Steele, of Kentucky,

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-76006595496064105072008-08-18T19:36:00.002-04:002008-08-18T19:40:30.199-04:00

Poet Louis Zukofsky thrived on a lush mix of sound and sense.By Robert LeiterPoetry Foundation Media ServicesLouis Zukofsky has been called the most influential poet you've never heard of. Much like his fellow Objectivist, Charles Reznikoff, he toiled in almost complete obscurity, unknown to readers and critics alike, though during his lifetime, he and his work were beloved by many other

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-33883541877567377872008-08-16T19:20:00.000-04:002008-08-16T19:20:38.701-04:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006A part of being a parent, it seems, is spending too much time fearing the worst. Here Berwyn Moore, a Pennsylvania poet, expresses that fear--irrational, but exquisitely painful all the same.Driving to Camp Lend-A-Hand for Emma GraceThe day we picked our daughter up from camp,goldenrod lined the road, towheaded scoutsbowing on both sides, the

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-49482419878829726262008-08-15T19:03:00.000-04:002008-08-15T19:03:21.413-04:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006I'd guess you've all seen a toddler hold something over the edge of a high-chair and then let it drop, just for the fun of it. Here's a lovely picture of a small child learning the laws of physics. The poet, Joelle Biele, lives in Maryland.To Katharine: At Fourteen MonthsAll morning, you've studied the lawsof spoons, the rules of books, the dynamicsof

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-40258029592443530392008-08-14T18:28:00.000-04:002008-08-14T18:28:29.294-04:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006Poets are especially good at investing objects with meaning, or in drawing meaning from the things of this world. Here Patrick Phillips of Brooklyn, New York, does a masterful job of comparing a wrecked piano to his feelings.PianoTouched by your goodness, I am likethat grand piano we found one night on Willoughbythat someone had smashed and

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-83322997166865927992008-08-12T15:42:00.000-04:002008-08-12T15:43:07.977-04:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006I don't often talk about poetic forms in this column, thinking that most of my readers aren't interested in how the clock works and would rather be given the time. But the following poem by Veronica Patterson of Colorado has a subtitle referring to a form, the senryu, and I thought it might be helpful to mention that the senryu is a Japanese form

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-65635156876359029672008-08-10T19:23:00.000-04:002008-08-10T19:24:12.254-04:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006Sometimes I think that people are at their happiest when they're engaged in activities close to the work of the earliest humans: telling stories around a fire, taking care of children, hunting, making clothes. Here an Iowan, Ann Struthers, speaks of one of those original tasks, digging in the dirt.Planting the Sand CherryToday I planted the sand cherry

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-54264299575992490572008-08-10T19:03:00.000-04:002008-08-10T19:04:16.379-04:00

Did his misreading of a poem contribute to Kurt Cobain's demise?by Tim AppeloPoetry Foundation Media ServicesKurt Cobain was a tenth-grade dropout who bitterly regretted his truncated education. Yet he was a scholar in his weird way, and not just of obscure B-sides. As he noted in his journals, "When I read, I read well." Cobain's poetic mentor was Courtney Love, the fitfully bookish

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-53456100052460227672008-08-08T17:50:00.000-04:002008-08-08T17:50:48.443-04:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006I've lived all my life on the plains, where no body of water is more than a few feet deep, and even at that shallow depth I'm afraid of it. Here Sam Green, who lives on an island north of Seattle, takes us down into some really deep, dark water.Night DiveDown here, no light but what we carry with us.Everywhere we point our hands we scrawlcolor: bulging

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-84556248799051518902008-08-08T17:49:00.000-04:002008-08-08T17:50:01.927-04:00

Scholars and poets around the world consider dissident poet Huang Xiang the Whitman of China, but his work is still banned there.by Susan HuttonPoetry Foundation Media ServicesIt’s a warm, windy day in the Mexican War Streets district of Pittsburgh, and I am looking for the house where the exiled Chinese poet Huang Xiang has been settled for nearly two years. The street is so narrow that it might

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-74210556961798472292008-08-07T19:41:00.000-04:002008-08-07T19:42:07.433-04:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006I remember being scared to death when, at about thirty years of age, I saw an x-ray of my skull. Seeing one's self as a skeleton, or receiving any kind of medical report, even when the news is good, can be unsettling. Suddenly, you're just another body, a clock waiting to stop. Here's a telling poem by Rick Campbell, who lives and teaches in

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-29505405069579198412008-08-07T17:55:00.000-04:002008-08-07T17:56:33.855-04:00

"The Sun Rising" is so romantic it will burn your eyes. by Stephen BurtPoetry Foundation Media ServicesJohn Donne (1572-1631) wrote a prose work called Paradoxes and Problems, and his life presents plenty of both: he was born a Catholic, gained notoriety for sacrilegious verse, and later in life became an Anglican priest. Though some of his poems defended libertinism and casual sex, he destroyed

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-90782310550229639682008-08-06T20:49:00.000-04:002008-08-06T20:50:01.598-04:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006So often, reading a poem can in itself feel like a thing overheard. Here, Mary-Sherman Willis of Virginia describes the feeling of being stilled by conversation, in this case barely audible and nearly indecipherable.The Laughter of WomenFrom over the wall I could hear the laughter of womenin a foreign tongue, in the sun-rinsed air of the city.They sat (

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-91241094199488684482008-08-06T20:36:00.000-04:002008-08-06T20:37:14.165-04:00

Eleanor Wilner "gets out of the way" of her poetry.by Rachel AvivPOETRY FOUNDATION SYNDICATEBefore our meeting, Eleanor Wilner asked me to read her poem "Interview," in which she stages a Q&A between a poet and journalist. The questions are generic, and the poet sidesteps them all:Q. What can you tell us about your personal history?A. Does the rain have a mother?Is the mole the explicator of the

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-1127878166381522662008-08-05T20:49:00.001-04:002008-09-04T12:29:53.940-04:00

-A-Louisiana Line by Betty AdcockHomecoming by Keith Althaus-B-Afterwards by David BakerMongrel Heart by David BakerNeighbors in October by David BakerFamily Reunion by Catherine BarnettDead Butterfly by Ellen BassAgainst Lawn by Grace BauerMy Father Teaches Me to Dream by Jan BeattyVeterans of the Seventies by Marvin BellWhat Calls Us by David BengtsonThe Peace of Wild Things by Wendell

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-46650751366735988972008-08-05T20:16:00.000-04:002008-08-05T20:16:25.489-04:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006Among young people, tattoos are all the rage and, someday, dermatologists will grow rich as kings removing them from a lot of middle-aged people who have grown embarrassed by their colorful skins. I really like this poem by Sharmila Voorakkara of Ohio.For the Tattooed ManBecause she broke your heart, "Shannon"'s a badge--a seven-letter skidmark that

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-24133840361856666382008-08-05T19:35:00.000-04:002008-08-05T19:35:36.429-04:00

Why high school students make great poetry critics.By Brian StaveleyPOETRY FOUNDATION SYNDICATEIn a recent issue of Poetry magazine, Kay Ryan mused, "Who can read [Gerard Manley] Hopkins's 'The Windhover' and not feel welling up inside a kind of giddiness indistinguishable from the impulse to laugh?" Well, every single one of my 11th-grade poetry students, for starters. "I don't have the

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-38503168273683609562008-08-04T16:35:00.000-04:002008-08-04T16:36:08.960-04:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006Texas poet R. S. Gwynn is a master of the light touch. Here he picks up on Gerard Manley Hopkins' sonnet "Pied Beauty," which many of you will remember from school, and offers us a picnic instead of a sermon. I hope you enjoy the feast!Fried BeautyGlory be to God for breaded things--Catfish, steak finger, pork chop, chicken thigh,Sliced green tomatoes,

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-90007144433964322782008-08-04T16:27:00.001-04:002008-08-04T16:27:53.462-04:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006In "The Moose," a poem much too long to print here, the late Elizabeth Bishop was able to show a community being created from a group of strangers on a bus who come in contact with a moose on the highway. They watch it together and become one. Here Robert Bly of Minnesota assembles a similar community, around an eclipse. Notice how the experience

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-67428727839030141802008-08-04T16:19:00.000-04:002008-08-04T16:19:53.320-04:00

"The tension between the attempt to mean and the routine failure to entirely mean": the limits of human language and worship in George Oppen's "Psalm."By Carl PhillipsPoetry Foundation Media Services"Psalm" by George OppenVeritas sequitur ...In the small beauty of the forestThe wild deer bedding down--That they are there! Their eyesEffortless, the soft lipsNuzzle and

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-32564091678791157372008-08-03T19:12:00.000-04:002008-08-03T19:13:06.467-04:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006How often have you wondered what might be going on inside a child's head? They can be so much more free and playful with their imaginations than adults, and are so good at keeping those flights of fancy secret and mysterious, that even if we were told what they were thinking we might not be able to make much sense of it. Here Ellen Bass, of Santa Cruz,

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-3128244028044797902008-08-03T19:02:00.002-04:002008-08-03T19:05:41.247-04:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006I have always enjoyed poems that celebrate the small pleasures of life. Here Max Mendelsohn, age 12, of Weston, Massachusetts, tells us of the joy he finds in playing with marbles.Ode to MarblesI love the sound of marblesscattered on the worn wooden floor,like children running away in a game of hide-and-seek.I love the sight of white marbles,blue

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-39321803831150968462008-08-03T18:57:00.000-04:002008-08-03T18:58:18.798-04:00

Poet Gary Snyder thinks the landscape of contemporary poetry should include wildflowers . . . and highway fast food joints.By John FelstinerPoetry Foundation Media ServicesOne of the original voices of the Beat Generation, Gary Snyder has been publishing poems for over 50 years. In addition to writing poems, Snyder has had a firm commitment to sustainability, a concern that is echoed in both his

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-82228226505884992372008-08-02T18:24:00.002-04:002008-08-03T19:08:33.055-04:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006Though at the time it may not occur to us to call it "mentoring," there's likely to be a good deal of that sort of thing going on, wanted or unwanted, whenever a young person works for someone older. Richard Hoffman of Massachusetts does a good job of portraying one of those teaching moments in this poem.Summer Job"The trouble with intellectuals," Manny

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-6415812465323491422008-08-02T18:20:00.002-04:002008-08-03T19:08:03.427-04:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006I may be a little sappy, but I think that almost everyone is doing the best he or she can, despite all sorts of obstacles. This poem by Jonathan Holden introduces us to a young car salesman, who is trying hard, perhaps too hard. Holden is the past poet laureate of Kansas and poet in residence at Kansas State University in Manhattan.Car Showroom Day

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-69713437518423627072008-08-02T18:12:00.002-04:002008-08-03T19:07:38.211-04:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006I've mentioned how important close observation is in composing a vivid poem. In this scene by Arizona poet, Steve Orlen, the details not only help us to see the girls clearly, but the last detail is loaded with suggestion. The poem closes with the car door shutting, and we readers are shut out of what will happen, though we can guess.Three Teenage Girls

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-8738370099073647322008-08-02T18:09:00.000-04:002008-08-02T18:10:29.762-04:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006Bad news all too often arrives with a ringing telephone, all too early in the morning. But sometimes it comes with less emphasis, by regular mail. Here Allan Peterson of Florida gets at the feelings of receiving bad news by letter, not by directly stating how he feels but by suddenly noticing the world that surrounds the moment when that news

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-1142707662268788032008-07-18T18:52:00.000-04:002008-07-18T18:53:11.533-04:00

Return to the Poetry Index >>>by Gilbert Wesley Purdy.Rove's dream was to reshape American politics by creatinga durable Republican majority. In the old days, Rove toldanyone who would listen that his role model in this projectwas the legendary political boss Mark Hanna.Jacob Weisberg.The vague stars loom above Mark Hanna's head.His cigar smoke wafts a Milky Way.He stands between two potted palms

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-4704705078501359412008-07-08T19:08:00.000-04:002008-07-08T19:08:34.409-04:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006Putting bed pillows onto the grass to freshen, it's a pretty humble subject for a poem, but look how Kentucky poet, Frank Steele, deftly uses a sun-warmed pillow to bring back the comfort and security of childhood.Part of a LegacyI take pillows outdoors to sun themas my mother did. "Keeps bedding fresh,"she said. It was April then, too--buttercups

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-66149279680464595722008-07-08T19:07:00.000-04:002008-07-08T19:07:26.553-04:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006From your school days you may remember A. E. Housman's poem that begins, "Loveliest of trees, the cherry now/ Is hung with bloom along the bough." Here's a look at a blossoming cherry, done 120 years later, on site among the famous cherry trees of Washington, by D.C. poet Judith Harris.In Your AbsenceNot yet summer,but unseasonable heatpries open the

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-80170877243334979432008-07-08T19:05:00.000-04:002008-07-08T19:06:11.575-04:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006We greatly appreciate your newspaper's use of this column, and today we want to recognize newspaper employees by including a poem from the inside of a newsroom. David Tucker is deputy managing editor of the New Jersey "Star-Ledger" and has been a reporter and editor at the "Toronto Star" and the "Philadelphia Inquirer." He was on the "Star-Ledger" team

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-15072370406265578852008-07-08T18:59:00.002-04:002008-07-08T19:04:09.698-04:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006The American poet Elizabeth Bishop often wrote of how places--both familiar and foreign--looked, how they seemed. Here Marianne Boruch of Indiana begins her poem in this way, too, in a space familiar to us all but made new--made strange--by close observation.HospitalIt seems so--I don't know. It seemsas if the end of the worldhas never happened in

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-35800528022251913682008-04-17T01:47:00.000-04:002008-04-16T22:52:52.850-04:00

Nigerian poet and novelist Chris Abani, once a political prisoner, finds peace and inspiration in L.A. by Charles MudedePoetry Foundation Media ServicesReaders in the West have been taught to understand African writers in one way: Africans as heroes. And heroes can do only one thing: overcome enormous obstacles. But despite the political persecution that poet and novelist Chris Abani suffered in

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-91801075151586663502008-04-17T00:38:00.000-04:002008-04-16T21:38:37.167-04:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006Here, poet Yusef Komunyakaa, who teaches at New York University, shows us a fine portrait of the hard life of a worker--in this case, a horse--and, through metaphor, the terrible, clumsy beauty of his final moments.YellowjacketsWhen the plowblade struckAn old stump hiding underThe soil like a beggar'sRotten tooth, they swarmed up& Mister Jackson left

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-53096014986683154542008-04-17T00:36:00.000-04:002008-04-16T21:36:49.838-04:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006In this endearing short poem by Californian Trish Dugger, we can imagine "what if?" What if we had been given "a baker's dozen of hearts?" I imagine many more and various love poems would be written. Here Ms. Dugger, Poet Laureate of the City of Encinitas, makes fine use of the one patched but good heart she has.Spare PartsWe barge out of the wombwith

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-35821335053536734952008-04-14T21:44:00.000-04:002008-04-14T18:44:27.901-04:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006A child with a sense of the dramatic, well, many of us have been that child. Here's Carrie Shipers of Missouri reminiscing about how she once wished for a dramatic rescue by screaming ambulance, only to find she was really longing for the comfort of her mother's hands.Medical HistoryI wanted it: arc of red and bluestrobing my skin, sirens singingmy

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-48559530240861575552008-04-14T21:42:00.000-04:002008-04-14T18:42:45.993-04:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006Thirty, forty years ago, there were lots of hitchhikers, college students, bent old men and old women, and none of them seemed fearful of being out there on the highways at the mercy of strangers. All that's changed, and nobody wants to get in a car with a stranger. Here Steven Huff of New York tells us about a memorable ride.SafeYou used to be able to

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-22636989681138381612008-04-14T00:55:00.000-04:002008-04-13T21:56:01.860-04:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006There's a world of great interest and significance right under our feet, but most of us don't think to look down. We spend most of our time peering off into the future, speculating on how we will deal with whatever is coming our way. Or dwelling on the past. Here Ed Ochester stops in the middle of life to look down.What the Frost Casts UpA crown of

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-4281455591276238432008-04-14T00:52:00.000-04:002008-04-13T21:52:56.305-04:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006Elsewhere in this newspaper you may find some advice for maintaining and repairing troubled relationships. Here, in a poem by Linda Pastan of Maryland, is one of those relationships in need of some help.The QuarrelIf there were a monumentto silence, it would not bethe tree whose leavesmurmur continuouslyamong themselves;nor would it be the pondwhose

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-60551025032209452802008-02-16T21:51:00.000-05:002008-02-16T18:58:54.183-05:00

Jack Gilbert thinks poets should be greedy for "what's inside them." by Sarah MangusoPOETRY FOUNDATION SYNDICATE"I don't want to be at peace," Jack Gilbert pronounced shortly after his 80th birthday. Yet he has spent much of his life on remote Greek islands, on a houseboat in Kashmir, on a western Massachusetts farm, and in the outskirts of Sausalito, California, either alone or in the company of

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-725467871078323862008-02-16T21:49:00.000-05:002008-02-16T18:50:06.348-05:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006I've written about the pleasures of poetry that offers us vivid scenes but which lets us draw our own conclusions about the implications of what we're being shown. The poet can steer us a little by the selection of details, but a lot of the effect of the poem is in what is not said, in what we deduce. Lee McCarthy is a California poet, and here is

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-55768257727220546682008-02-16T21:47:00.000-05:002008-02-16T18:48:26.640-05:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006Our earliest recollections are often imprinted in our memories because they were associated with some kind of stress. Here, in an untitled poem, the Nebraska State Poet, William Kloefkorn, brings back a difficult moment from many years before, and makes a late confession:I stand alone at the footOf my father's grave,Trembling to tell:The door to the

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-6302643264823960472008-01-25T01:09:00.000-05:002008-01-24T22:10:59.415-05:00

John Berryman's ghost makes cameo appearances on the Hold Steady's new album.by Brandon StosuyPOETRY FOUNDATION SYNDICATEThere was that night that we thought that John Berryman could fly.But he didn't so he died.She said, "you're pretty good with words but words won't save your life"and they didn't so he died.--The Hold Steady, "Stuck between Stations"On "Stuck between Stations," the rousing

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-19340779857627627692008-01-25T01:06:00.000-05:002008-01-24T22:06:52.845-05:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006Post-traumatic stress disorder is a new name for "shell shock," a term once applied only to military veterans. Here the poet Marvin Bell describes a group of these emotionally damaged soldiers, gathered together for breakfast. I'd guess that just about everybody who reads this column has known one or two men like these.Veterans of the SeventiesHis army

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-83356104198039623972008-01-25T01:03:00.000-05:002008-01-24T22:03:48.835-05:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006If one believes television commercials, insomnia, that thief of sleep, torments humans in ever-increasing numbers. Rynn Williams, a poet working in Brooklyn, New York, tries here to identify its causes and find a suitable remedy.InsomniaI try tearing paper into tiny, perfect squares--they cut my fingers. Warm milk, perhaps,stirred counter-clockwise in a

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-1131392009268165722008-01-09T01:54:00.000-05:002008-01-08T23:15:20.633-05:00

Columns [#1-100] [#101- present] [Prose Columns Index]American Life in Poetry #100: The One I Think of Now by Wesley McNairAmerican Life in Poetry #99: New Water by Sharon ChmielarzAmerican Life in Poetry #98: Kissing a Horse by Robert Wrigley...offering us a horse's head, up close,...American Life in Poetry #97: Somebody Else's Baby by Mary Jo Salter...the poignancy of the parent/child

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-36767802639208421082008-01-01T16:19:00.000-05:002008-01-01T13:52:32.629-05:00

Pulitzer-prize winning poet Lisel Mueller's gentle, steady voice was shaped by a harsh history.by Nell CaseyPOETRY FOUNDATION SYNDICATEIn her poem "Necessities," the first in her 1986 collection Second Language, Lisel Mueller muses on our need for progress. She writes, "Imagine our lives without it; . . . all streets looping back on themselves; life as a beckoning road an absurd idea." Eventually

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-49946389188061540202008-01-01T16:14:00.000-05:002008-01-01T13:14:32.420-05:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006I'd guess you've heard it said that the reason we laugh when somebody slips on a banana peel is that we're happy that it didn't happen to us. That kind of happiness may be shameful, but many of us have known it. In the following poem, the California poet, Jackson Wheeler, tells us of a similar experience.How Good Fortune Surprises UsI was hauling

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13909421.post-19653054368381721912008-01-01T16:12:00.000-05:002008-01-01T13:12:28.416-05:00

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006Here is Arizona poet Steve Orlen's lovely tribute to the great opera singer, Maria Callas. Most of us never saw her perform, or even knew what she looked like, but many of us listened to her on the radio or on our parents' record players, perhaps in a parlor like the one in this poem.In the House of the Voice of Maria CallasIn the house of the voice of

Gilbert Wesley Purdyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02612678869556343487noreply@blogger.com0