World Poetry Day

slice-of-life_individualToday is World Poetry Day as celebrated by UNESCO (United Nations Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Organization).  On Twitter people are asking one another to share their favorite poems.  While I love seeing and reading the variety and immersing myself in a cascade of poems, I am also troubled.  We don’t ask parents to choose their favorite child, how can we ask readers to choose A favorite poem?

So rather than choose and share my own, I am going to retweet as many poems and posts as I can today to share the love of poetry and celebrate the poets and readers who come together to infuse life and meaning into the words.

While I cannot say these are my absolute favorites, I’ll share two that resonate with me very strongly today (below). HAPPY WORLD POETRY DAY!  Do yourself a favor and savor a poem today! Or take the advice from this tweet I read this morning

Screen Shot 2017-03-21 at 6.59.10 AM

 

Try it. Play with the words.

See where they land. See where they light.

 

 

TWO POEMS TO LINGER ON TODAY:

And one to listen to with loving ears and open heart:

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10 thoughts on “World Poetry Day

  1. That particular Emily Dickinson poem is one of my favorites. I have read it and passed it on to friends many times in situations where hope was needed. You are right, it is hard to pick just one.

  2. Paula,

    I missed that it was National Poetry Day. The month has been a mess . . .

    Love this . . .” While I love seeing and reading the variety and immersing myself in a cascade of poems, I am also troubled. We don’t ask parents to choose their favorite child, how can we ask readers to choose A favorite poem?”

    I have a solution I learned from my sister. My favorite oldest child, my favorite middle child . . . so I could have a favorite poem about hope by Emily Dickinson or a favorite Introduction by Billy Collins and therefore just list 100s as favorites!

  3. e.e.cummings is one of my favorite poets. So in honor of spring i share:
    Who Knows If The Moon’s

    who knows if the moon’s
    a baloon,coming out of a keen city
    in the sky—filled with pretty people?
    (and if you and i should

    get into it,if they
    should take me and take you into their baloon,
    why then
    we’d go up higher with all the pretty people

    than houses and steeples and clouds:
    go sailing
    away and away sailing into a keen
    city which nobody’s ever visited,where

    always
    it’s
    Spring)and everyone’s
    in love and flowers pick themselves

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