Monthly Archives: December 2012

In Memoriam: A Tribute

memoriam“Still, for that little while, we visited our possible life.”

– Jack Gilbert, from “Going There

Please join us in remembering the many literary luminaries who left us in 2012.
We are fortunate to have their poems forever in our world.

Stacy Doris (1962-2012)

Jack Gilbert  (1925-2012)

Daryl Hine (1936-2012)

Dick McBride (1928-2012)

Irene McKinney (1939-2012)

Adrienne Rich (1929-2012)

Louis Simpson (1923-2012)

Edmund Skellings (1932-2012)

Wislawa Szymborska (1923-2012)

Dorothea Tanning (1910-2012)

Reed Whittemore (1919-2012)


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The best love poems: writers choose their favourites

Best_Love_PoemsLustful gazing, unrequited yearning and passionate wooing – AS Byatt, Seamus Heaney, Hilary Mantel, Jeanette Winterson and many others pick the poems that stole their hearts. Plus Carol Ann Duffy writes a new poem for the occasion. Click here to view and then click on the images to read the poems

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Readers’ Choice: Poem-A-Day 2012


The Academy of American Poets asked and the readers of their newsletter answered.

As a year of  Poem-A-Day comes to a close, readers were asked to vote for the poems they liked best in 2012.
Here they are:

Iscariot Rising Sutra by Ben Kopel
Failing and Flying by Jack Gilbert
Red Wand by Sandra Simonds
Reluctance by Robert Frost
Untitled [Tracks carve through Florida florid wetlands by Megan Kaminski
Love Song for Love Songs by Rafael Campo
Saw You There by Ander Monson
Folly Stamp by Prageeta Sharma
Elegy in X Parts [Kafka said a book] Matt Rasmussen
Twenty Questions by Jim Moore

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Reluctance by Robert Frost

Robert Frost

Robert Frost

For those weary of wet coast winter weather, some wise words from Robert Frost:


by Robert Frost

Out through the fields and the woods
And over the walls I have wended;
I have climbed the hills of view
And looked at the world, and descended;
I have come by the highway home,
And lo, it is ended.

The leaves are all dead on the ground,
Save those that the oak is keeping
To ravel them one by one
And let them go scraping and creeping
Out over the crusted snow,
When others are sleeping.

And the dead leaves lie huddled and still,
No longer blown hither and thither;
The last lone aster is gone;
The flowers of the witch hazel wither;
The heart is still aching to seek,
But the feet question ‘Whither?’

Ah, when to the heart of man
Was it ever less than a treason
To go with the drift of things,
To yield with a grace to reason,
And bow and accept the end
Of a love or a season?

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