I couldn't pick a favorite poet, there are so many. Right now, for example, I can't get enough of the contemporary poet, Megan Fernandes. But I go back to Seamus Heavy, Sylvia Plath, T.S. Eliot, and Czeslaw Milosz, over and over again, for wisdom and for words.
Milosz, especially, writing poetry against a backdrop of war and the dissolution of civilized society, is always a solace, as with these stanzas from "One More Day":
And though the good is weak, beauty is very strong.
Nonbeing sprawls, everywhere it turns into ash whole expanses of being,
It masquerades in shapes and colors that imitate existence
And no one would know it, if they did not know that it was ugly.
And when people cease to believe that there is good and evil
Only beauty will call to them and save them
So that they will still know how to say: this is true and that is false.
I mean "Seamus Heany" who was not, in any way, heavy, and whom I saw read, at the very end of his life, at the 92nd Street Y, and it hallowed that ground for me, forever.
I would also put William Bronk and Carl Phillips into my "go back to over and over group".
Oh! and Theodore Roethke, Kay Ryan, and Elizabeth Bishop. How could I leave Elizabeth Bishop out of the top 5?!
And what about great poems, not just poets, as in poems that keep you going even if you don't adore all the rest of the poet's work, like Adrienne Rich's "Diving Into the Wreck," or Auden's "September 1, 1939," or Pound's "In a Station of the Metro"
Thank you, Courtney. Your love for these poets leaps off this page and makes me want to read them all, and closely. And thank you for sharing the stanzas from Milosz. Those lines drove their way into my heart.
Most all the things I've tried in my life (whether success or fail) were likely inspired by something I read. ha! Thank you for featuring Andrew Merton, such wise words. My favorite poem is Diagnosis by Sharon Olds. My favorite poets are Mary Oliver and Andrea Gibson, though I read many poets. I appreciate your including me and my work in this post. Thank you so much.
I see no comments yet. I suspect the enormity of the question posed is the reason why.
Where does one start. Poetry is such a personal thing. But here goes. Four poets: John Betjeman; Leonard Cohen; U A Fanthorpe and John White. The latter a local poet and friend here in Nottingham, in his eighties, who my wife Susan and I helped to self-publish poems all previously published in local newspapers. As good as the others, just not of the right class and in the wrong place. I first bought the collected works of Betjeman from my second pay packet in 1959 (from my first I bought a cheap wrist watch which lasted me until 1985, when I stopped wearing a watch). My love of poetry came from the BBC Home Service when I was a child. My schools didn’t do poetry. Growing up in Wembley, Middlesex, Betjeman wrote poems about a world I knew and a class I observed, and, dare I say, women I wanted to know (eg. ‘Russell Flint’). Leonard Cohen I don’t know how to define. Lyric or verse? ‘Suzanne’ is the meeting of me and wife. Every word. We said ‘Hello’ to one another and left a couple, and just after Christmas 2010 I wrote my first ever poem and it was about our meeting.
And an appeal: I remember this line from a poem, otherwise forgotten:
Love has no end in view save parting’. Does anyone recognise the line? Robert 🐰
This is beautiful, Robert. I do not recognize the line but I very much loved reading about how poetry has been an important and abiding presence in your life. Thank you for sharing the names of those whose words have both reflected and illuminated your experience.
And sorry, I don't recognize the line you mentioned.
Grief, hormonal instability, youth, new love, late night/early morning sleeplessness, COVID-19 lockdown, health uncertainty, and other times of persistent anxiety — these are times when poetry and I are most likely to connect. It started when I was quite young and babysat children in my neighborhood. One single mom who stayed out till 2 or 3 am had two books of poetry on the bottom shelf of a bookcase: The Standard Book of American and British Verse and The Book of Living Verse. I read poems from these books when it got so late my head would spin with dizziness. This is when I found the romantic poet Amy Lowell, the first poet I loved. Her poem Patterns about a woman walking along a garden path in dress that constrained and molded her meant so much more. The woman's loss, longing and the patterns that shaped her life, alongside the great beauty she experienced in her elaborate garden, all this seemed so real and important to me as a young girl. I revisit Amy Lowell, especially Patterns, often. During that especially poignant time of COVID lockdown I looked her up and discovered she was extremely popular in the early 1900s. She toured the country and drew large and appreciative audiences. And she made enemies of another contemporary poet, Ezra Pound, who seemed to despise her and her work. She was 5 feet tall, 250 pounds, well to do among the Boston elite and pugnacious. She was awarded a Pulitzer Prize posthumously. To end this reminiscence, I will admit to stealing both of those ancient books of poetry when I decided to leave home at a very young age. They were among the few things I put into a suitcase and they have accompanied everywhere I went. Thanks to Betsy for triggering this memory of late nights with Amy Lowell. And a happy hello to Andy Merton, who, for a short time, taught me the basics of news writing and reporting.
I have just read ‘Patterns’. That I am 79 and not 14 makes no difference:
‘Boned and stayed... the softness of my body will be guarded from embrace’ I didn’t see the ‘and’ at first but by the time I did it was too late! Thanks for this Rae Robert and introducing me to Amy Lowell🐰
Also, Padraig O’Tauma’s Poetry Unbound podcast and Substack is really great if you love poetry. They both help with delving into meaning and making sense of things.
Mary Oliver opened a window for me. From which a love of poetry began. I love James Crews’ compilations. They have introduced me to many new poets. My most recent post has a beautiful poem by James. I love his writing and the beautiful lens he tries to look at the world through. I also love Danusha Lameris and Ada Limon. Sandra introduced me to Andrea Gibson, and their poetry blows me away- so much love in a sentence.
I think I prefer poems that are simple but really beautiful. Thanks for featuring and introducing me to Andrew. I plan to have a listen later.
Like you, I have some bad poems from my teens, but the surprise was when my father started writing poetry in his early sixties, becoming quite prolific over the next decades until his memory began to falter, He was part of a very vibrant group of Florida poets, and actually got some of his poems published. When I started my substack, I used this forum to publish one of his poems every Sunday. I only wished he was still here to see this, I think he would have been delighted. I do know that my step-mother, who is also a poet, really enjoyed seeing these poems be enjoyed by others. If anyone is interested, here is the substack tab that holds all the poems I put up. https://marylouisalocke.substack.com/s/my-fathers-poetry
This is inspiring and very moving, Louisa. I just read the most recent poem you posted, in January, and tears came to my eyes. I'm looking forward to reading the others. As a daughter, it must have been / must be a singular and special experience to read what came out of your father's work. Writing reveals a dimension of a person we don't have access to in other ways. I think parents' inner voices and lives are even more hidden from children. How wonderful for you to have his art, his voice still echoing for you.
Absolutely agree that this really did make him a so much more complex and fully-realized person in my eyes, and also helped in the decade when Alzheimer's slowly stripped away all but his sweet core.
Oh too many poets to say a "favorite" So much depends on where I am, what book falls in my lap, who appears in my email or online. Yesterday's mail brought the newest issue of Poets & Writers, so there's going to be a favorite poet in there.
I began writing poetry when I could hold my fat pencil between my fingers and had a clean sheet in my Big Chief tablet. And I haven't stopped. I loved being introduced to e e cummings and seeing how you could break all the rules (being a notorious rule-breaker myself). I love prose poems and Mary Oliver landing lines. I love Ross Gay's "Catalogue of Unabashed Gratitude." I love Sappho's fragments and Billy Collins' Last Cigarette (and so many others). I miss the spirited presents of our own Steve Kowit and am grateful for his books of poetry and his influence on our poetry community. And on and on...
I couldn't pick a favorite poet, there are so many. Right now, for example, I can't get enough of the contemporary poet, Megan Fernandes. But I go back to Seamus Heavy, Sylvia Plath, T.S. Eliot, and Czeslaw Milosz, over and over again, for wisdom and for words.
Milosz, especially, writing poetry against a backdrop of war and the dissolution of civilized society, is always a solace, as with these stanzas from "One More Day":
And though the good is weak, beauty is very strong.
Nonbeing sprawls, everywhere it turns into ash whole expanses of being,
It masquerades in shapes and colors that imitate existence
And no one would know it, if they did not know that it was ugly.
And when people cease to believe that there is good and evil
Only beauty will call to them and save them
So that they will still know how to say: this is true and that is false.
I mean "Seamus Heany" who was not, in any way, heavy, and whom I saw read, at the very end of his life, at the 92nd Street Y, and it hallowed that ground for me, forever.
I would also put William Bronk and Carl Phillips into my "go back to over and over group".
Oh! and Theodore Roethke, Kay Ryan, and Elizabeth Bishop. How could I leave Elizabeth Bishop out of the top 5?!
And what about great poems, not just poets, as in poems that keep you going even if you don't adore all the rest of the poet's work, like Adrienne Rich's "Diving Into the Wreck," or Auden's "September 1, 1939," or Pound's "In a Station of the Metro"
I could go on and on...
Thank you, Courtney. Your love for these poets leaps off this page and makes me want to read them all, and closely. And thank you for sharing the stanzas from Milosz. Those lines drove their way into my heart.
Most all the things I've tried in my life (whether success or fail) were likely inspired by something I read. ha! Thank you for featuring Andrew Merton, such wise words. My favorite poem is Diagnosis by Sharon Olds. My favorite poets are Mary Oliver and Andrea Gibson, though I read many poets. I appreciate your including me and my work in this post. Thank you so much.
Diagnosis is an amazing poem
I'm adding this and all the poets you and Sandra mentioned to my now-growing list of poets to explore. Thank you, Mary.
I see no comments yet. I suspect the enormity of the question posed is the reason why.
Where does one start. Poetry is such a personal thing. But here goes. Four poets: John Betjeman; Leonard Cohen; U A Fanthorpe and John White. The latter a local poet and friend here in Nottingham, in his eighties, who my wife Susan and I helped to self-publish poems all previously published in local newspapers. As good as the others, just not of the right class and in the wrong place. I first bought the collected works of Betjeman from my second pay packet in 1959 (from my first I bought a cheap wrist watch which lasted me until 1985, when I stopped wearing a watch). My love of poetry came from the BBC Home Service when I was a child. My schools didn’t do poetry. Growing up in Wembley, Middlesex, Betjeman wrote poems about a world I knew and a class I observed, and, dare I say, women I wanted to know (eg. ‘Russell Flint’). Leonard Cohen I don’t know how to define. Lyric or verse? ‘Suzanne’ is the meeting of me and wife. Every word. We said ‘Hello’ to one another and left a couple, and just after Christmas 2010 I wrote my first ever poem and it was about our meeting.
And an appeal: I remember this line from a poem, otherwise forgotten:
Love has no end in view save parting’. Does anyone recognise the line? Robert 🐰
This is beautiful, Robert. I do not recognize the line but I very much loved reading about how poetry has been an important and abiding presence in your life. Thank you for sharing the names of those whose words have both reflected and illuminated your experience.
And sorry, I don't recognize the line you mentioned.
Grief, hormonal instability, youth, new love, late night/early morning sleeplessness, COVID-19 lockdown, health uncertainty, and other times of persistent anxiety — these are times when poetry and I are most likely to connect. It started when I was quite young and babysat children in my neighborhood. One single mom who stayed out till 2 or 3 am had two books of poetry on the bottom shelf of a bookcase: The Standard Book of American and British Verse and The Book of Living Verse. I read poems from these books when it got so late my head would spin with dizziness. This is when I found the romantic poet Amy Lowell, the first poet I loved. Her poem Patterns about a woman walking along a garden path in dress that constrained and molded her meant so much more. The woman's loss, longing and the patterns that shaped her life, alongside the great beauty she experienced in her elaborate garden, all this seemed so real and important to me as a young girl. I revisit Amy Lowell, especially Patterns, often. During that especially poignant time of COVID lockdown I looked her up and discovered she was extremely popular in the early 1900s. She toured the country and drew large and appreciative audiences. And she made enemies of another contemporary poet, Ezra Pound, who seemed to despise her and her work. She was 5 feet tall, 250 pounds, well to do among the Boston elite and pugnacious. She was awarded a Pulitzer Prize posthumously. To end this reminiscence, I will admit to stealing both of those ancient books of poetry when I decided to leave home at a very young age. They were among the few things I put into a suitcase and they have accompanied everywhere I went. Thanks to Betsy for triggering this memory of late nights with Amy Lowell. And a happy hello to Andy Merton, who, for a short time, taught me the basics of news writing and reporting.
I have just read ‘Patterns’. That I am 79 and not 14 makes no difference:
‘Boned and stayed... the softness of my body will be guarded from embrace’ I didn’t see the ‘and’ at first but by the time I did it was too late! Thanks for this Rae Robert and introducing me to Amy Lowell🐰
May Amy Lowell rise out of obscurity!
Also, Padraig O’Tauma’s Poetry Unbound podcast and Substack is really great if you love poetry. They both help with delving into meaning and making sense of things.
Wonderful to know! Thank you so much.
Mary Oliver opened a window for me. From which a love of poetry began. I love James Crews’ compilations. They have introduced me to many new poets. My most recent post has a beautiful poem by James. I love his writing and the beautiful lens he tries to look at the world through. I also love Danusha Lameris and Ada Limon. Sandra introduced me to Andrea Gibson, and their poetry blows me away- so much love in a sentence.
I think I prefer poems that are simple but really beautiful. Thanks for featuring and introducing me to Andrew. I plan to have a listen later.
Like you, I have some bad poems from my teens, but the surprise was when my father started writing poetry in his early sixties, becoming quite prolific over the next decades until his memory began to falter, He was part of a very vibrant group of Florida poets, and actually got some of his poems published. When I started my substack, I used this forum to publish one of his poems every Sunday. I only wished he was still here to see this, I think he would have been delighted. I do know that my step-mother, who is also a poet, really enjoyed seeing these poems be enjoyed by others. If anyone is interested, here is the substack tab that holds all the poems I put up. https://marylouisalocke.substack.com/s/my-fathers-poetry
This is inspiring and very moving, Louisa. I just read the most recent poem you posted, in January, and tears came to my eyes. I'm looking forward to reading the others. As a daughter, it must have been / must be a singular and special experience to read what came out of your father's work. Writing reveals a dimension of a person we don't have access to in other ways. I think parents' inner voices and lives are even more hidden from children. How wonderful for you to have his art, his voice still echoing for you.
Absolutely agree that this really did make him a so much more complex and fully-realized person in my eyes, and also helped in the decade when Alzheimer's slowly stripped away all but his sweet core.
I am not much for poetry although I tend to like quotes from poems rather than the poem itself. But I am a huge fan of Amanda Gorman.
She's amazing. Young, fearless, powerful with her words.
Yes she is. I love watching her recite her poetry. It's magical!
Oh too many poets to say a "favorite" So much depends on where I am, what book falls in my lap, who appears in my email or online. Yesterday's mail brought the newest issue of Poets & Writers, so there's going to be a favorite poet in there.
I began writing poetry when I could hold my fat pencil between my fingers and had a clean sheet in my Big Chief tablet. And I haven't stopped. I loved being introduced to e e cummings and seeing how you could break all the rules (being a notorious rule-breaker myself). I love prose poems and Mary Oliver landing lines. I love Ross Gay's "Catalogue of Unabashed Gratitude." I love Sappho's fragments and Billy Collins' Last Cigarette (and so many others). I miss the spirited presents of our own Steve Kowit and am grateful for his books of poetry and his influence on our poetry community. And on and on...