For those of you who heard the poetry session Andrew Peterson and I shared at Hutchmoot 2011, this is the poem I read from my Grandfather. It's long been a favorite of mine and one of the first poems that ever really "got me." Many people there loved it, including AP. I hope you enjoy it too. -Sam Rare Gems by Clair Shadwell Smith They burned us in the fire, Your page and mine; And I was … [Read more...] about Rare Gems by Clair Shadwell Smith
Poems for Humans and Others
A Funny Poem For Moms and Those Who Have Them: Guest Post By Gina G. Smith
Is It Words? A Guest Post by Gina G. Smith “Here, listen to this.” My husband said to me as we got in the car. The kids were with us and we had a ways to go. Sigh. “Is it words?” I asked sarcastically. I love being part of his world, but if there’s one thing that puts me instantly to sleep, or sends me spiraling into a world of daydreams, it’s listening to audio books. He somehow listens … [Read more...] about A Funny Poem For Moms and Those Who Have Them: Guest Post By Gina G. Smith
Morning Person
For those who asked me, this is one of the poems I read at Hutchmoot. It really was unintentional that it followed all that stuff about Morning People. -Sam Morning Person (Vassar Miller) God, best at making in the morning, tossed stars and planets, singing and dancing, rolled Saturn’s rings spinning and humming, twirled the earth so hard it coughed and spat the moon up, brilliant bubble … [Read more...] about Morning Person
The Kind of Sunshine Old Men Love
Soaking Up Sun (Tom Hennen) Today there is the kind of sunshine old men love, the kind of day when my grandfather would sit on the south side of the wooden corncrib where the sunlight warmed slowly all through the day like a wood stove. One after another dry leaves fell. No painful memories came. Everything was lit by a halo of light. The cornstalks glinted bright as pieces of glass. From the … [Read more...] about The Kind of Sunshine Old Men Love
“He fathers-forth…”
Pied Beauty (Gerard Manley Hopkins) Glory be to God for dappled things— For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow; For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim; Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings; Landscape plotted and pieced—fold, fallow, and plough; And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim. All things counter, original, spare, strange; Whatever is fickle, freckled (who … [Read more...] about “He fathers-forth…”
“…I wonder at not wondering.”
The Mystery by G.K. Chesterton If sunset clouds could grow on trees It would but match the may in flower; And skies be underneath the seas No topsyturvier than a shower. If mountains rose on wings to wander They were no wilder than a cloud; Yet all my praise is mean as slander, Mean as these mean words spoken aloud. And never more than now I know That man's first heaven is far behind; Unless … [Read more...] about “…I wonder at not wondering.”
Swing and a Mister
Sometimes, when the sky is high and the earth is low, I think to myself, Things. Things about how right now I can't concentrate long enough to write anything worthwhile. Take this blog for instance. What on earth am I doing? The sky, like a high thing, stays where it is. Why do poets always talk about the sky and rain and feelings? I am here at the table typing this after watching a … [Read more...] about Swing and a Mister
Puritanical Pleasures: Blind Johnny Milton
On His Blindness, by John Milton When I consider how my light is spent Ere half my days in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide Lodg'd with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest he returning chide, "Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?" I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent That murmur, soon … [Read more...] about Puritanical Pleasures: Blind Johnny Milton