1. Limericks
A fractious old person named Laurel,
Whose temper disposed him to quarrel,
Was most impolite
When he knew he was right
And his language when wrong was immoral.
| 1.
Limericks 2. I Hear America Singing Walt Whitman 3. I, Too, Sing America Langston Hughes 4. Poem (I loved my friend) (to F. S.) Langston Hughes 5. Love After Love Derek Walcott 6. Going Home Wislawa Szymborska 7. Auto-Lullaby Franz Wright 8. This Moment Eavan Boland 9. "Secrets" is a daily word Emily Dickinson 10. Thoughts Sara Teasdale 11. 2 little whos... E.E. Cummings |
12.
Delay Elizabeth Jennings 13. Please Mrs Butler Allan Ahlberg 14. Solitude Anna Akhmatova 15. After Years Ted Kooser 16. A New Poet Linda Pastan 17. After Love Maxine Kumin 18. What We Miss Sarah Manguso 19. Cosmetics Do No Good Steve Kowit (after Vidyapati) 20. Song (She Sat And Sang Alway) Christina Rossetti 21. The Porcupine Ogden Nash |
1. Limericks
A fractious old person named Laurel,
Whose temper disposed him to quarrel,
Was most impolite
When he knew he was right
And his language when wrong was immoral.
 |
An eccentric
who lived in Lachine Had peculiar ideas on hygiene. 'Twas better, he guessed To bathe fully dressed As it kept the enamelwork clean. |
A wonderful bird is the
Ibid.
His color is pale and insibid.
He stands like a sage
At the foot of the page
To tell where the passage was cribbèd.
(See ibis)
Image
source
2.
I Hear America Singing p. 76
http://www.liglobal.com/walt/i-hear-america.html
Walt
Whitman American (1819-1892)
http://www.marcopolopoet.com/PoemOP/Walt_Whitman.htm
http://www.iath.virginia.edu/whitman/
Painter: George Caleb Bingham American
(1811-1879)
http://www.artchive.com/artchive/ftptoc/bingham_ext.html
 |
The shoemaker
singing as he sits on his bench, the hatter singing as he stands, The woodcutter's song, the ploughboy's on his way in the morning, or at noon intermission or at sundown, |
| The delicious
singing of the mother, or of the young wife at work, or of the girl sewing or washing, Each singing what belongs to him or her and to none else, |
 |
3.
I, Too, Sing America p. 77
http://www.poets.org/poems/poems.cfm?prmID=1479
Langston Hughes American (1902-1967)
http://www.poets.org/poems/poems.cfm?prmID=1479
Painter: Romare Bearden African-American
(1914-88)
http://www.humanitiesweb.org/perl/human.cgi?s=g&p=c&a=b&ID=294
http://www.humanitiesweb.org/perl/human.cgi?s=g&p=c&a=s&ID=294
 |
I am the
darker brother. They send me to eat in the kitchen When company comes, But I laugh, And eat well, And grow strong. |
Besides,
They'll see how beautiful I am
And be ashamed —
I, too, am America.
Image
source
4.
Poem p. 80
(I loved my friend) (to F. S.)
http://www.blockhead.com/lhughes.htm
http://www.meridianmagazine.com/poetry/020423gene.html
Langston
Hughes American (1902-1967)
http://www.poets.org/poets/poets.cfm?prmID=84
 |
I loved my friend. |
 |
The time
will come when, with elation you will greet yourself arriving at your own door, in your own mirror and each will smile at the other's welcome, and say, sit here.
Eat. |
all your life, whom you
ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.
Image
source
6.
Going Home
http://plagiarist.com/poetry/8141/
Wislawa Szymborska Polish (1923- )
http://www.nobel.se/literature/laureates/1996/szymborska-bio.html
| He came
home. Said nothing. It was clear, though, that something had gone wrong. He lay down fully dressed. Pulled the blanket over his head. Tucked up his knees. He's nearly forty, but not at the moment. He exists just as he did inside his mother's womb, clad in seven walls of skin, in sheltered darkness. Tomorrow he'll give a lecture on homeostasis in metagalactic cosmonautics. For now, though, he has curled up and gone to sleep. |
 |
7.
Auto-Lullaby
WA: Sunday, July 11, 2004:
http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/docs/2004/07/05/
Listen: http://mail.publicradio.org/site/R?i=a4Lyu-5o589p-GW9jh2-kg
Franz Wright Austrian-American (1953-
)
http://www.poets.org/poets/poets.cfm?45442B7C000C03060F
| Think
of a sheep knitting a sweater; think of your life getting better and better. Think of your cat asleep in a tree; think of that spot where you once skinned your knee. |
 |
Think of a bird
that stands in your palm.
Try to remember
the Twenty-first
Psalm.
Think of a big pink horse
galloping south;
think of a fly, and
close your mouth.
If you feel thirsty, then
drink from your cup.
The birds will keep singing
until they wake up.
Image
source
8.
This Moment
http://www.loc.gov/poetry/180/138.html
Eavan Boland Irish (1944- )
http://www.poets.org/poets/poets.cfm?45442B7C000C07000D
A neighbourhood.
At dusk.
Things are getting ready
to happen
out of sight.
Stars and moths.
And rinds slanting around fruit.
But not yet.
 |
One tree is black. |
9. "Secrets"
is a daily word
http://plagiarist.com/poetry/8577/
Emily Dickinson American (1830-1886)
http://www.online-literature.com/dickinson/
"Secrets" is a daily word
Yet does not exist —
Muffled — it remits surmise —
Murmured — it has ceased —
Dungeoned in the Human Breast
Doubtless secrets lie —
But that Grate inviolate —
Goes nor comes away
Nothing with a Tongue or Ear —
Secrets stapled there
Will emerge but once — and dumb —
To the Sepulchre —
Image
source
| When I
am all alone Envy me most, Then my thoughts flutter round me In a glimmering host; Some dressed in silver, Some dressed in white, Each like a taper Blossoming light; |
 |
 |
Most of
them merry, Some of them grave, Each of them lithe As willows that wave; Some bearing violets, Some bearing bay, One with a burning rose Hidden away – |
11.
2 little whos...
http://plagiarist.com/poetry/239/
E.E. Cummings American (1894-1962)
http://www.poets.org/poets/poets.cfm?prmID=157&CFID=4844212&CFTOKEN=71195250
 |
2 little whos smiling stand |
(far from a grown
-up i&you-
ful world of known)
who and who
(2 little ams
and over them this
aflame with dreams
incredible is)
Image
source
 |
Glitters
up there my eyes may never see, And so the time lag teases me with how Love that loves now may not reach me until Its first desire is spent. The star's impulse |
13. Please Mrs Butler
http://www.poemhunter.com/p/m/poem.asp?poet=6569&poem=26311
WA Wednesday, 12 March 2003:
http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/docs/03_03_10.htm
Listen: http://www.writersalmanac.org/play/audio.php?media=/2003/03/10_wa&start=00:00:10:43.0&end=00:00:15:43.0
Allan Ahlberg English (1938- )
http://www.penguin.co.uk/nf/Author/AuthorPage/0,,0_1000000334,00.html
Please Mrs Butler
This boy Derek Drew
Keeps copying my work, Miss.
What shall I do?
 |
Go and
sit in the hall, dear. Go and sit in the sink. Take your books on the roof, my lamb. Do whatever you think. |
Please Mrs Butler
This boy Derek Drew
Keeps taking my rubber, Miss.
What shall I do?
Keep it in your hand, dear.
Hide it up your vest.
Swallow it if you like, my love.
Do what you think best.
Please Mrs Butler
This boy Derek Drew
Keeps calling me rude names, Miss.
What shall I do?
Lock yourself in the cupboard, dear.
Run away to sea.
Do whatever you can, my flower.
But don't ask me!
Image
source
14.
Solitude
http://plagiarist.com/poetry/7/
Anna Akhmatova Russian (1889-1966)
http://www.poets.org/poets/poets.cfm?45442B7C000C07
http://www.odessit.com/namegal/english/ahmatova.htm
 |
So many
stones have been thrown at me, That I'm not frightened of them anymore, And the pit has become a solid tower, Tall among tall towers. I thank the builders, May care and sadness pass them by. From here I'll see the sunrise earlier, Here the sun's last ray rejoices. |
15. After Years
http://plagiarist.com/poetry/4382/
Ted Kooser American (1939- )
http://www.poets.org/poets/poets.cfm?45442B7C000C07060973
Today, from a distance, I saw you
walking away, and without a sound
the glittering face of a glacier
slid into the sea. An ancient oak
fell in the Cumberlands, holding only
a handful of leaves, and an old woman
scattering corn to her chickens looked up
for an instant. At the other side
of the galaxy, a star thirty-five times
the size of our own sun exploded
and vanished, leaving a small green spot
on the astronomer's retina
as he stood on the great open dome
of my heart with no one to tell.
Image
source
16.
A New Poet
http://www.loc.gov/poetry/180/090.html
Linda Pastan American (1932- )
http://www.poets.org/poets/poets.cfm?45442B7C000C010301
Finding a new poet
is like finding a new wildflower
out in the woods. You don't see
its name in the flower books, and
nobody you tell believes
in its odd color or the way
its leaves grow in splayed rows
down the whole length of the page.
In
fact
the very page smells of spilled
red wine and the mustiness of the sea
on a foggy day – the odor of truth
and of lying.
And the words are so familiar,
so strangely new, words
you almost wrote yourself, if only
in your dreams there had been a pencil
or a pen or even a paintbrush,
if only there had been a flower.
Image
source
17.
After Love
WA Wednesday, 4 February, 2004:
http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/docs/04_02_02.htm
Listen: http://www.writersalmanac.org/play/audio.php?media=/2004/02/02_wa&start=00:00:10:41.0&end=00:00:15:41.0
Maxine Kumin American (1925- )
http://www.poets.org/poets/poets.cfm?45442B7C000C0F00
Afterward, the compromise.
Bodies resume their boundaries
These legs, for instance, mine.
Your arms take you back in.
Spoons of our fingers, lips
admit their ownership.
The bedding yawns, a door
blows aimlessly ajar
and overhead, a plane
singsongs coming down.
Nothing is changed, except
there was a moment when
the wolf, the mongering wolf
who stands outside the self
lay lightly down, and slept.
Image
source
 |
moment
you are unable to save him? Failure is more like this than like duels and marathons. Everything can be saved, and bad timing pre- vents it. Every minute, you are answering the question and looking out the window of the church to see your one great love blinded by the glare, crossing the street, alone. |
| it is
no use — there is no semblance of the beautiful young girl I was & long for still. My loveliness is past. & no one could be more aware than I am that coquettishness at this age only renders me ridiculous. |
 |
20.
Song (She Sat And Sang Alway)
http://plagiarist.com/poetry/8953/
Christina Rossetti English (1830-1894)
http://www.poets.org/poets/poets.cfm?45442B7C000C01060A
|
She sat and sang
alway I sat and wept alway |
|
I wept for memory;
She sang for hope that is so fair:
My tears were swallowed by the sea;
Her songs died on the air.
Image
source
21.
The Porcupine
http://www.plagiarist.com/poetry/?wid=482
Ogden Nash American (1902-1971)
http://www.poets.org/poets/poets.cfm?prmID=690
http://www.americanpoems.com/poets/nash/
Any hound a porcupine nudges
Can't be blamed for harboring grudges.
I know one hound that laughed all winter
At a porcupine that sat on a splinter.
 |
 |
Image sources 1
2
WA = Writer's
Almanac of Minnesota
Public Radio, hosted by Garrison
Keillor
Page numbers are for the Freshman English textbook,
Laura Stark Johnson.
Reading in
the Content Areas: Literature 2. 2003. Taipei: Crane. 96pp..
Readers:
Karen Steffen Chung (US English)
Colin R. Whiteley (RP)
