The Farrar, Straus and Giroux Poetry Blog

April 30, 2007

The Saddest Thing About National Poetry Month

Is that it's only 30 days long. Sigh. Since this is the last day of April, and therefore the last day of National Poetry Month 2007, it's sadly time to change the ringtone on your cell phone, return to downloading podcasts of This American Life to listen to on the way to work, and figure out what you're going to do every morning without FSG's roster of poets to ease you into the day.

But no, this blog will not go gentle into that good night! OK, yes, www.fsgpoetry.com will stop being a blog in the traditional sense, where groups of words are posted a few times a day. But please, keep us in your RSS feeds, or sign up for email updates (which will be the same thing that appears on the blog, only in convenient letter form), because once you teach a girl to blog, it's hard to convince her to stop entirely. I'll continue to post original content at least once a month, and I can only assume it will continue to be amazing.

And last, but certainly not least, I really appreciate everyone who read the blog all month, and commented, and listened to our audio or downloaded our screensavers. As a thank you, I've saved one of the best recordings for last. Here's C. K. Williams reading Robert Lowell's poem 'For the Union Dead' or as Williams describes it in his introduction: "one of the greatest poems by one of the great poets of the last century." Enjoy!

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Comments

Robert

It's been swell...

Everett Reed

Thank you. This is truly a tremendous poem.

Poetry

4 June 2007

After the storm, my mind cleared.


And a high wind arose and blew the tropics north.

running quartz crystals through a blender.

sand through your engines.

bubbles in your bays.

estuaries reaching out toward forbidden seas...

sand through your eyes.

5 June 2007


Calm as baby's breath


as peaceful as the storm's eye


Clouds spread and drawn with rough strokes of stratospheric winds


a warm and windy tropical day.


7 June 2007


Black water at dusk.

Lighting on the horizon.


Warm winds coming in across the darkening waters.


A flash of white wings as an egret takes flight.


And Thunder like God clearing his throat.


8 June 2007


Morning star in the still of the clear, dark waters.


a sky as clear eyed as a young girl.


bruised and tattered storm remnants limp off in the gathering light.


9 June 2007

Tickled her fancy.


giggling all the day long.


pretty good for a Saturday.


Clouds on the lake floating aimlessly by.

She smiled big--grinned really.

Poetry

4 June 2007

After the storm, my mind cleared.

And a high wind arose and blew the tropics north.

running quartz crystals through a blender.

sand through your engines.

bubbles in your bays.

estuaries reaching out toward forbidden seas…

sand through your eyes.

5 June 2007

Calm as baby’s breath

as peaceful as the storm’s eye

Clouds spread and drawn with rough strokes of stratospheric winds

a warm and windy tropical day.

7 June 2007

Black water at dusk.

Lighting on the horizon.

Warm winds coming in across the darkening waters.

A flash of white wings as an egret takes flight.

And Thunder like God clearing his throat.

8 June 2007

Morning star in the still of the clear, dark waters.

a sky as clear eyed as a young girl.

bruised and tattered storm remnants limp off in the gathering light.

9 June 2007

Tickled her fancy.

giggling all the day long.

pretty good for a Saturday.

Clouds on the lake floating aimlessly by.

She smiled big–grinned really.

12 JUne 2007

A silver sky

ripe for the mirror.

you can not see yourself in this mirror

you can only see others

moreover, you can only see what others choose to expose.

Their houses, their boats, their sea-doos.

Birds skimming low over the water could

like as not

see them selves if they were to look down

as they skim low over the water

but they never do.

Rather they allow their reflections to chase them

quick and sharp over the still, glistening waters

while the bird’s mind remains ever fixed on

food, or other birds, or escaping those damn noisy humans.

A dense forest impenetrable as a gaze.

13 JUne 2007

Like angry bee’s eyes

the metal screen seen through the bamboo blinds.

A million insects dot the lake spreading micro ripples

14 June 2007

Of Fly Catchers and hidden lakes.

Of sleeping lizards and morning dew.

It is of birdsong and misty dawns

and fleeced clouds floating in a still pool.

The waters ripple awake in the gathering morn.

The first water birds head out for the far shore.

Dana Delibovi

Sorry to hear you wont be updating this blog regularly. It's a real find.

Dana Delibovi

I would also love to see more re: Lowell.

Katherine

Thank you for posting Williams' reading of one of my favourite poems by my most beloved poet. All my FSG books of Robert Lowell are in shreds from so much re-reading. His letters and collected poems are monumental. I can't say enough about their tremendous impact.

Text messages and Poems

Got nothing to say about your The Saddest Thing About National Poetry Month, You really got an awesome informative blog, would you mind if i ask you for a link exchange? Regards...

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