April is Nation Poetry Month

In Memory of
Dori Anderson
1938-2008

Willits Library National Poetry Month Poem of the Day April 4, 2008

SEAMUS HEANEY, from The Cure At Troy

Human beings suffer,

They torture one another,

They get hurt and get hard.

No poem or play or song

Can fully right a wrong

Inflicted and endured.

The innocent in gaols

Beat on their bars together.

A hunger-striker’s father

Stands in the graveyard dumb.

The police widow in veils

Faints at the funeral home.

History says, Don’t hope

On this side of the grave.

But then, once in a lifetime

The longed-for tidal wave

Of justice can rise up,

And hope and history rhyme.

So hope for a great sea-change

On the far side of revenge.

Believe that a further shore

Is reachable from here.

Believe in miracles

And cures and healing wells.

Call miracle self-healing:

The utter, self-revealing

Double-take of feeling.

If there’s fire on the mountain

Or lightning and storm

And a god speaks from the sky

That means someone is hearing

The outcry and the birth-cry

Of new life at its term.

It means once in a lifetime

That justice can rise up

And hope and history rhyme.

Ukiah Library Poem of the day for National Poetry Month, April 4th

by Emily Dickenson

Just lost, when I was saved!

Just felt the world go by!

Just girt me for the onset with Eternity

When breath blew back

And on the other side

I heard recede the disappointed tide

Therefore, as One returned, I feel

Odd secrets of the line to tell!

Some Sailor, skirting foreign shores-

Some pale Reporter, from the awful doors

Before the Seal!

Next time, to stay!

Nest time, the things to see

By Ear unheard,

Unscrutinized by Eye

Next time, to tarry,

While the Ages steal

Slow tramp the centuries

And the Cycles wheel!

April is Poetry Month

In memory of Dori Anderson
1938-2008

Ukiah Library's National Month of Poetry: Poem of the day

ALL-PURPOSE APOLOGY POEM

Austin Strauss

As a responsible adult, I must admit my guilt.

I did it.

Not the weather, not

my wife, not some “mood”

that mysteriously entered as I slept.

I did it.

“Guilt” may be too strong a word

but, in fact, I did the thing.

I made it happen.

No outside cause. No god, no devil.

No accident of fate, no drug or drink

or pill.

I did it.

I used my mind, I moved my hands

And arms and legs, ‘twas me who

dood it.

I broke the_____, I ruined the_____

I said the thing not said,

I was insentive, I was at fault.

I did it.

I drove the car, I dropped the dish,

I lost the key, I swung my fist,

I tore the page, I spilled the beer

I did it.

I was mean. I was stupid.

I was petty. I was cold.

Check one.

I did it.

Not you, not ten other guys,

not my parents, teachers, political

leaders, not even the capitalists or Russians.

Not my stars. Nor the moon

Or sun or winds or tides.

not my dog or my cat

Or my bird.

It was me. Me Me.

Willits Library National Poetry Month Poem(s) of the Day – April 2, 2008

Two by the High Priestess of American Poetry – EMILY DICKINSON

Wild Nights – Wild Nights!

Wild Nights – Wild Nights!

Were I with thee

Wild Nights should be

Our luxury!

Futile – the Winds –

To a Heart in port –

Done with the Compass –

Done with the Chart!

Rowing in Eden –

Ah, the Sea!

Might I but moor – Tonight –

In Thee!

“Hope” is the thing with feathers

“Hope” is the thing with feathers –

That perches in the soul –

And sings the tune without the words –

And never stops – at all –

And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard –

And sore must be the storm –

That could abash the little Bird

That kept so many warm –

I’ve heard it in the chilliest land –

And on the strangest Sea –

Yet, never, in Extremity,

It asked a crumb – of Me.