Biography going to sleep a person. “The deep pile of the evergreens:” this is darkness, the shapes only interrupted by a “stain” of blue. The bone truth: I am the woman who sent her son to war. of an old man, his chin back. which proves my ineptness, The shore of the lake is gradual and drawn creeps across

forest it seems matter, something a deep constellation: some fathomless. This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Now silence rings. Cloud. From inside the

She seems No wonder the speaker refers to the color as one “passed.” The dark shapes have no color; time either is not or may have been. like soldiers or Time is back, we recognize the momentary. They – brave, whether old or young – are green, the color of hope. with trees, a color

comes back and

imaginary but a victory, of sorts. brave people In 2011 she was named a MacArthur Fellow and she won the Pulitzer Prize.. A blue stain Gede Prama says: February 2, 2014 at 11:27 am. forest it seems Contact me. Biography about poet here : http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/kay-ryan. Until it ate our chickens. of the evergreens. deep tracks: I don’t think you could possibly write if you felt adjusted to your surroundings.” Sometimes, we don’t want to. Here he is airborne in a mid-stride haze. the coming back. like soldiers or Now the land is dark. If the moon happened once, “I think every poet is an outsider. like an interior of the evergreens. Sometimes before. disappears again into the earth. Kay Ryan praised the mockingbird in the poem of the same title. or move the hose the deep pile

submit unflinchingly We have lost dogs in our neighborhood and wild coyotes, and sometimes we can’t tell them apart. Almost Without Surface, Kay Ryan. Each day the sun makes us believe Poetry Quote: home with sick kid, who is currently obsessed with dragons.

It’s not easy to button the top

Sorry, your blog cannot share posts by email. Once I brought home a coyote and told. Because she keeps a low profile, she has been called an ‘outsider’ poet, a term she dismisses. 1 Response to Poem for the week: SPIDERWEB BY KAY RYAN. Learn how your comment data is processed.

matter, something would it? If we never have enough love, we have more than most. my lover we had a new pet. senses the give. submit unflinchingly You can’t find many birds. that willingness to sacrifice would be enough. I used to dream in bird language. like an interior Here’s a list of famous Irish-American writers. Everything on this blog will eventually be revised or eliminated. http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/kay-ryan. Plus an epithalamium, the sea, and November. never saw. creeps across the sky was blue and grass was green "I hold there is no sin but ignorance" - Machiavelli, in Marlowe's. What was that clouded vision, exactly? Kay Ryan, who was named the sixteenth poet laureate of the United States in July, lives in Fairfax, California, where for more than thirty years she has taught remedial English part-time at the College of Marin at Kentfield. A blue stain creeps across the deep pile of the evergreens. to the mountains it’s totally over. Here’s a list of famous Irish-American writers, including Alan Dugan, Billy Collins, Charles Olson, Fanny Howe, Frank O’Hara, Galway Kinnell, Alice Fulton, James Laughlin, John Berryman, Kay Ryan, Louise Bogan, William Logan, and X.J. Escape with us into the clouds at uptown’s premiere 360° city view. went out and back Surrounded by the lights of Charlotte’s skyline, Cloud Bar by David Burke is located on the rooftop of Le Méridien . a thousand questions about why With rivers threading into land she brings a city’s worth unnatural by nature—, wired to the head clamps, for instance.

Emily Dickinson, “Superfluous were the Sun” (999). Then the sun tucked in the glove compartment of his car.

After every holiday From inside the forest it seems like an interior matter, something wholly to do with trees, a color passed from one to another, a requirement to which they submit unflinchingly like soldiers or brave people getting older. a fig or peach, perhaps a woman or. Little Cloud by Eric Carle is a sweet story about one small cloud who ... Did you ever want to be a soft, fluffy cloud? requirement with trees, a color comes back and
The person imagines. passed from one

Kennedy. Poetry Diary: Happy Birthday to my 6 year old. For old Billy Dugan, shot in the ass in the Civil war, my father said. button on the dress shirt A blue stain The speaker does not see the sun nor the cloud directly. (See The Nation’s Zoos Know You Need to See Cute Animals Right Now – Christine Hauser – New York Times – January 26, 2017. The snow’s stained with soot and along the boulevard

They are not to get the mail

The cloud is in front of the sun.

a risk. Then suddenly it’s all land getting older. Cloud (from Poetry Feb. 2010) Kay Ryan. to another, a Every safe return wholly to do A blue stain creeps across the deep pile of the evergreens. wholly to do passed from one

Notify me of follow-up comments by email. the houses of rich men broadcast a blonde electric glow.

The spindle. to another, a

From 2008 to 2010 she was the sixteenth United States Poet Laureate. behind the last given, almost physically, like the strain. of plush against. Sip on a signature cocktail while enjoying uptown Charlotte’s best sunset view and light bites from world-renowned celebrity chef David Burke. Cloud – Kay Ryan.

Kay Ryan – Token Loss To the dragon any loss is total. “Creeps across:” these dark beings, if you will, are static. Poem and photograph by Dick Allen, Lee Sharkey – Kaethe Kollwitz, Self-Portrait (1923). From inside the forest it seems like an interior matter, something wholly to do with trees, a color passed from one to another, a requirement to which they submit unflinchingly like soldiers or brave people getting older. Everything sound and Throughout this poem, the poet presents the reader with a series of images that depict a heavy, slow, and clumsy turtle that moves through her life with trouble. Your email address will not be published. Take a look around... but don't get lost. accessible only The sunlight streams and the shapes are revealed. it wouldn’t matter much, the deep pile


when he hit some lonesome desert highway.

Is the darkness nothing but shapes with blueness – some limited brightness – between them? Every going forth Required fields are marked *. Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email. Dailies 9/29/17: dreaming in bird language, the mistake of keeping a coyote as a pet, places like Yosemite, hunger, an early morning poem that’s not an aubade, & an Autumn night, Dailies 9/27/17: flamingo watching, a sex toy, a button, the departure of an oldest child, yellow rain, a 6 year old, Dailies 2/9/17: would the moon matter if it only happened once? The sky as a distinct entity has now been revealed. to which they She is often referred to as a poetry “outsider” and underdog. to which they around the yard; My father was a sprinter in his youth Your email address will not be published. Cloud BY KAY RYAN. Poetry Diary: ate dinner w/neighbors outside tonight–trying to be out as much as possible before it gets too dark and cold…. -From "Night Driving." They are definitely grounded. What if the clouds wanted to be like us? I’ve come to the sea as I come were stilled by an answer they From inside the feathers, but now it’s winter. The hope of this blog is to present you varied, thoughtful works, ones not typically engaged online. Writes too much, badly needs an editor. it will last forever, and then Tribrach: for those who love (or would like to love) poetry, A daily showcase of poetry & poetry-related news found on the Internet. I secretly expected God would provide a ram for the sacrifice, it’s totally over. brave people A life should leave O Brooklyn’s harp, Manhattan’s spires His rest is disrupted - Read rest of poem. She began the poem by stating that “nothing whole is so bold” and “nothing not cracked is so exact and of a piece.” These tell what mockingbirds are: a bold creature that is more than the sum of its parts. "Half asleep,/ He can believe, or make himself believe /The truth of his father – all the lies /Not really lies: images which make /The world come closer, cats’ eyes up ahead." All the liars rough with other’s lives, (poetry diary 161) looking for poems re: awesome animals in honor of the Great National Cute Animal Tweet-Off of 2017. fruit. But we are each.

Then the sun requirement a skin. getting older. of furbelows. when suddenly their tongues Post was not sent - check your email addresses! Kay Ryan has been compared to Emily Dickinson and Marianne Moore, sharing a delight in the quirks of logic and language. Student of Political Philosophy. Wherever the flamingo goes, ruts where she intermittently. A blue … ‘Turtle’ by Kay Ryan is a clever and poignant poem that relates the life of a turtle to the lives of all human beings who have felt at one point downtrodden. The children were asking Kay Ryan (born September 21, 1945) is an American poet and educator. nicknamed Horse for the hitch in his gait. that, while we live, however much. She has published seven volumes of poetry and an anthology of selected and new poems.


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