I’m Waxing Poetic

Not really, I’m not poetic AT ALL. But I do appreciate people that are. I love words and I’m in awe sometimes at the way people use them to paint pictures or express their deepest thoughts. I’ll admit, the only poetry I know is the mainstream that most of us got in school; “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day…” “Two roads diverged in a yellow wood…””Tyger, Tyger, burning bright…”  Without any consistent study, those have stuck with me. Just think, if there were no poets in the world, there would be no The Night Before Christmas, no Green Eggs and Ham and I would not have been “serenaded” by that guy in college one night who stood outside my window quoting, “Whose woods these are I think I know.” (Good times)


“Why all this talk about poetry?” you ask. Well, my friends, April is National Poetry Month. And you know I’m always up for a celebration. Even if I’m not a poet myself, I shall indulge in the poetry of others. And I encourage you to do the same.
Also, in case you didn’t know, April 21st is Poem in your Pocket day. That is a day for you to tote lots of little copies of poems in your pocket, purse or whatever, and give them to others throughout your day; at work, at the park, restaurants, grocery stores, wherever you go. How lovely would it be to receive the gift of beautiful words from some kind, random stranger?

James Brush is a reader/blogger/poet that I discovered online several years ago while he was reading and blogging through the LOST reading list. For that he has my life-long respect, as he actually created the list and he did it so much better than me. But he is also a poet and he posts a poem a day every day in April. I’m posting here one that he wrote a couple of years ago that has been a favorite for me. You can see so much more at his site, here.

Ordinary Night

It was ordinary:
the hill, the town,
the sky, a wisp
of cloud against
the stars. Ordinary
as methane rain
on Titan or the dry
encroaching ice
on the windswept
Martian poles.
Common as each
flower in this field
around my feet,
each one a star
to mirror constellations
above my blood-filled
head. The window
lights in town
click off, a chorus
of everyday amens,
whispered in the holy
darkness of the night.

Magpie Tales #234


Happy Poetry Month everyone! If you’ve written a poem, recently or ever, please post it in the comments. Let me gaze at the beauty of your words…


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