Poem of the day

Die goldene botschaft

by Mathias Goeritz

18 January

'It Wasn't Snowing'

by Michael Schmidt

It wasn’t snowing, but it should have been.

You were an old man, nine months from the grave.

Your hand was very dry and very hot

And large, as I recall (I was a boy,

Fourteen years at most, I led you round

Part of the school, your guide; you seemed to listen)

That night you read in a slow, dismissive voice

That left the words like notes on staves hung in the air,

No longer yours, but part of memory -

You talked about Miss Dickinson of Amherst

And said aloud the eight lines of her poem

‘The heart asks pleasure first’. And from that night

I’ve known the poem word-perfect, part of me.

 

I think you let more lines free into language

And memory with your rusty, lonely voice

Than any other poet of our age.

It must have been like freeing doves

And watching them go off to neighbouring cotes

Or into the low clouds of your New Hampshire

Knowing they’ll meet no harm, that they’ll survive

Long after the hand that freed them has decayed.

 

Those lines are wise in rhythm and they lead

Into a clapboard dwelling, or a field,

Or lives that prey upon the land and one another,

Or the big country where we both were children.

 

17 January

Poem for a Blind Daughter

by Katrina Naomi

(after Kate Clanchy)

 

We thought you’d like to know:

 

that the colour of my eyes, which is also yours,

smells of the sea, pungent 

with bladder wrack, flecked with an approaching storm,

 

that your father’s hair, which is also yours,

is the sound of a stone lobbed into the deepest well,

splashing, then stilled,

 

that you’re likely to inherit our height,

which tastes of the cool, peat-laden spring

at the furthest reaches of Loch Maree,

 

that the shade of your skin

is smooth as the finest sand of Ullapool,

kissed repeatedly by a loving tide,

 

that you live in a tall, white building,

high above the ocean,

where one day, you will own the brightest eye.

 

16 January

Galerie legitime

by Robert Filliou

15 January

Job boj

by Bohumila Grögerová and Josef Hirsal

15 January

Winter

by Frances Angela

gray winter morning

the oranges in the fruit bowl

scent the room

 

14 January

Samuel Beckett

by Tom Phillips

13 January

Emmonsails Heath in Winter

by John Clare