Tag Archives: National Poetry Month

wednesday wisdom: sweet spontaneous

sweet, spontaneous earth at matcha bar, brooklyn.

sweet, spontaneous earth at matcha bar, brooklyn.

O Sweet Spontaneous

O sweet spontaneous
earth how often have

fingers of
prurient philosophers pinched

, has the naughty thumb
of science prodded

beauty                  how
often have religions taken
thee upon their scraggy knees
squeezing and

buffeting thee that thou mightest conceive

to the incomparable
couch of death thy

thou answerest

them only with


e.e. cummings

{p.s. it’s National Poetry Month. we’re celebrating. xxS}


wednesday wisdom: it’s earth day, and we’re still on that plant porn kick

sara little yoga blog magnolia nybg

the ny botanical garden, magnolia trees, perfect saturday afternoon.

Come slowly – Eden! (205)

Come slowly – Eden!
Lips unused to Thee –
Bashful – sip thy Jessamines –
As the fainting Bee –

Reaching late his flower,
Round her chamber hums –
Counts his nectars –
Enters – and is lost in Balms.

Emily Dickinson

{p.s. it’s National Poetry Month. we’re celebrating. xxS}
{p.p.s. the New York Botanical Garden got in on that, too}

wednesday wisdom: tax day poetry, the good life

sara little yoga blog nyc good life
The Good Life

When some people talk about money
They speak as if it were a mysterious lover
Who went out to buy milk and never
Came back, and it makes me nostalgic
For the years I lived on coffee and bread,
Hungry all the time, walking to work on payday
Like a woman journeying for water
From a village without a well, then living
One or two nights like everyone else
On roast chicken and red wine.

Tracy K. Smith, via MTA’s Poetry In Motion

{p.s. it’s National Poetry Month. we’re celebrating. xxS}

wednesday wisdom: re-examine

via soul-surfer.tumblr.com

via soul-surfer.tumblr.com

Re-examine all you have been told in school or church or in any book, and dismiss whatever insults your own soul; and your very flesh shall be a great poem, and have the richest fluency, not only in its words, but in the silent lines of its lips and face, and between the lashes of your eyes, and in every motion and joint of your body.
– Walt Whitman, preface to Leaves of Grass

{p.s. it’s National Poetry Month. we’re celebrating. xxS}

wednesday wisdom: the resting place of my soul

Vogue China by Camila Akrans, October 2014.

Vogue China by Camila Akrans, October 2014.

The resting place of my soul is a beautiful garden where my knowledge of you lives.
Kahlil Gibran, via (it.s) plant porn

{p.s. it’s National Poetry Month. let’s celebrate. xxS}

wednesday wisdom: jabberwocky



April is National Poetry Month, and since we’re all about the words around here, each Wednesday Wisdom will be a celebration of poetry, the forgotten art. I have a very distinct association of “Jabberwocky” to my fifth grade class at Buckingham Elementary: I had to memorize the whole thing, and was also responsible for interpreting and illustrating a Jubjub bird. Made famous in Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There, this is my first introduction into glorious nonsense, and is forever etched into my brain.

`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!”

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought —
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

“And, has thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!’
He chortled in his joy.

`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

Lewis Carroll, 1871

wednesday wisdom: poem in your pocket day



April is National Poetry Month. Tomorrow (April 18) is National Poem In Your Pocket Day. Celebrating is easy: pick your favorite poem, put it in your pocket. Share it with your friends, family, co-workers, and fellow wordsmiths throughout the day. Tweet your #pocketpoem. Download a pocket poem  for you and your kidlets. I’m going with this one by Claude McKay, because it reminds me that us New Yorkers are a hodgepodge of displaced peoples from the world over, seeking familiarity, comfort, a good piece of fruit. Will you celebrate with me?

The Tropics of New York
Bananas ripe and green, and ginger root
Cocoa in pods and alligator pears,
And tangerines and mangoes and grape fruit,
Fit for the highest prize at parish fairs,

Sat in the window, bringing memories
of fruit-trees laden by low-singing rills,
And dewy dawns, and mystical skies
In benediction over nun-like hills.

My eyes grow dim, and I could no more gaze;
A wave of longing through my body swept,
And, hungry for the old, familiar ways
I turned aside and bowed my head and wept.

Claude McKay, Jamaican-American writer