POETIC BLOOMINGS READING ROOM – WHO DO YOU LOVE?

Wednesdays had come to be known around Poetic Bloomings as the “Reading Room.” A random poem from a randomly selected poet was featured for your consideration, and maybe introducing you to something new in our poetic exploration. But our preference in poem/poet says something about us.

So, for this edition of the PBRR I’m asking you. Who do you love to read? What do you consider your favorite poem or poet? This will be your feature to post for discussion. Select your poem and tell us what you love about it and the poet who wrote it. Write it up and send your offering to poeticbloomings@yahoo.com .

We’d like to see “who you love.” It’s poetic appreciation on a personal level. Any poet/poem famous or not is open to choice. Maybe an obscure offering of this writer would fit the bill. Whatever you will, who do you love?

15 thoughts on “POETIC BLOOMINGS READING ROOM – WHO DO YOU LOVE?

  1. My favorite poem is Frost’s “Stopping BY Woods”; close behind it is Keats’s “To Autumn”; third would be almost anything by Ogden Nash. Those three sum up, for me, sense, sound, meter, imagery, and humor. In Nash’s case, I guess my single favorite piece would be part of his “Line-up for Yesterday,” for Lou Gehrig:

    G is for Gehrig,
    The Pride of the Stadium;
    His record pure gold,
    His courage, pure radium.

  2. So many poets to choose from, each for a different reason, and tomorrow my list might change, but today, I place Kay Ryan at the top of my personal list, because I appreciate her short lines, her serious thoughts sometimes penned with a wry smile, the simplicity of her most beautiful observations. I especially like the way she leaves some white space on the page, allowing room for me to think and imagine. One of my favorites, largely due to the opening line, is “Blandeur”. Here’s a portion of it…

    If it please God,
    let less happen.
    Even out Earth’s
    rondure, flatten
    Eiger, blanden
    the Grand Canyon.

    Close behind Kay Ryan I would place Mary Oliver and Elizabeth Barrett Browning, how I do love them both.

  3. Tennyson from his poem Locksley Hall. He is my favorite poet… and the lines in this poem has had me mulling over it for years…

    For I dipt into the future,
    Far as human eye could see,
    Saw the vision of the world,
    And all the wonder that would be;

    Saw the heavens fill with commerce,
    Argosies of magic sails,
    Pilots of the purple twilight,
    Dropping down with costly bales;

    Heard the heavens fill with shouting,
    And there rain’d a ghastly dew
    From the nations’ airy navies
    Grappling in the central blue;

    Far along the world-wide whisper
    Of the south-wind rushing warm,
    With the standards of the peoples
    Plunging thro’ the thunder storm;

    Till the war-drum throbb’d no longer,
    And the battle-flags were furl’d
    In Parliament of man,
    The Federation of the world.

    There the common sense of most
    Shall hold a fretful realm in awe,
    And the kindly earth shall slumber,

    • It is the prophet nature of this poem I love… and because I have dreams that show me things beyond meaning… I understand this one, and know it must have worried him to have seen such a vision.

  4. It is the prophet nature of this poem I love… and because I have dreams that show me things beyond meaning… I understand this one, and know it must have worried him to have seen such a vision.

  5. “To see a World in a Grain of Sand
    And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
    Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
    And Eternity in an hour.”

    This partial poem by William Blake I mulled over for decades until one day everything fell into place and I understood it and went wow…

  6. But the poet I love to read the most is my father’s… this is one that he recited often for people… This is also a man who dropped out of high school at 16 and taught himself to write poetry and civil engineering…one person told me his poetry was simple stuff… maybe but still beautiful…

    The Forgotten Grave

    A lonely grave upon a hill
    Where sunny sumac grow,
    Sunk into the ground and often filled
    With water by rain or snow.
    Marked by native rubble stones
    One at head, one at feet,
    Chiseled epitaph nearly gone
    Except one line “My Love Asleep.”
    No one know of deeds you did
    Nor trails you might have trod.
    From mortal man your secrets hid
    But not from almighty God.
    No one knows when you died
    Nor by whom you were begotten,
    No one knows who might have cried—
    Only that your grave’s forgotten.

    Joseph A. Todd, Sr.
    1960

  7. another poem by him and the line “It is with grace we live each day, I had put on his tombstone…

    Today
    In an instant, birth from thy mother’s womb
    In an instant, death and eternal tomb
    Between the two, a period of life
    Full of pleasure, full of strife.
    No man knows what lies ahead-
    A short time to live, a long time dead.
    It is thru grace we live each day.
    Whether at work or whether at play.
    It matters not what we say or do,
    Or where I footsteps lead us to
    It matters not what we see or find,
    Happiness is a state of mind.
    Live thy days one by one.
    Don’t fear tomorrow; it may not come.
    Don’t keep the burdens of the past,
    For time is ever fleeting fast.
    You cannot cheat time in any way,
    For all you have is in today.

    Joseph Archer Todd, SR
    1915-1987

  8. Thanks for the replies here. But the Idea was to send them to the email and I’ll co-ordinate with you on your selection. You will guest host that segment with you poem and why It intrigues you. You’ll all have a chance to be involved beyond just commenting. You will drive the debate.

    • So, pick one of each was my reply until I realized you did, Debi. Prepare a little intro about the poem and what draws you to it and send it over. I’ll select from the e-mails sent and highlight a poem chosen by you our contributors. We’ve gotten a few replies already and will re-start the READING ROOM Wednesday, May 12th.

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