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I could never pick a single favorite, but this is a poem that comes back to me over and over, combining so many elements I love: the ocean, animals, and the themes of danger in the world and safety with loved ones.

And Amy, thank you for introducing me to this new (to me) collaborative tool! I'm seeing a hundred uses for it already!

--Laura Purdie Salas

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Yesterday, I was catching up on a little blog reading from National Poetry Month, and Kathi Appelt in her interview at The Miss Rumphius Effect mentioned her father reading Rudyard Kipling poems to her as a child. I've shared this poem once before, but I love it-so here it is again.

Oh! Hush thee, my baby, the night is behind us,
And black are the waters that sparkled so green.
The moon, o'er the combers, looks downward to find us,
At rest in the hollows that rustle between.

Where billow meets billow, then soft be thy pillow,
Oh weary wee flipperling, curl at thy ease!
The storm shall not wake thee, nor shark overtake thee,
Asleep in the arms of the slow swinging seas.

The Poetry Friday Roundup is hosted today by the wonderful Jama Rattigan's Alphabet Soup. Go slurp up some wonderful poems.

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Poetry Friday: Seal Lullaby (by Rudyard Kipling) * Laura Purdie Salas

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Yesterday, I was catching up on a little blog reading from National Poetry Month, and Kathi Appelt in her interview at The Miss Rumphius Effect mentioned her father reading Rudyard Kipling poems to her as a child. I've shared this poem once before, but I love it-so here it is again.

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This poem was given to me by my mentor teacher on the first day I entered my first school to set up my first classroom. I was nervous, worried, excited and new. After reading the poem aloud to me she said if every child is excited to walk through your door each day because they feel loved, all the rest of the hard work will be easier. This was the best truth and greatest gift for me as a teacher and as a human for that matter. So this poem is posted in my room as a reminder that we are all connected and we all matter.

Andrea Smith

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I have always loved storms, nature's power, and rocky coasts. I read this poem in a magazine when I was young in the late 60's when we were fed up with the fury of war and racism and hypocrisy.  I saw the storm as those terrible things...then, I suddenly felt the writer's strength standing against 'the night of dark intent.'  The last line gripped me...even the storm was subject to God pulling the switch. So come on storm!

Damon Dean

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I've loved this poem since college, no matter what mood I am in. It speaks to the moment between dreams and reality to me.

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I love this sonnet that defines "real love" which isn't all about traditional beauty. He shares his love for her through insults, and it's beautiful! :)

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petrarch sonnet dark lady cheating cxxx sonnet one thirty female ugly friend untrustworthy poem

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Shakespeare Sonnet 130 - My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun

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Shakespeare's sonnet 130 with critical notes. Despite her unattractiveness, the poet's mistress is unsurpassed by any woman.

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If by Kipling

I thought of my son and daughter immediately when I first read this poem.

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my favorite poem is .... ee cummings In Just Spring

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my favorite poem is .... ee cummings In Just Spring

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I first read this poem as a senior in high school and was inspired by its sense of possibility. The following summer, serendipity brought me to Camden, Maine, where I saw for myself the beautiful view Millay describes in the opening stanza, and began to glimpse the widening horizons of my life. Those "three islands in a bay" will always hold a special place in my heart.

Catherine Flynn

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Renascence - All I could see from where I stood

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I love the repeated rhymes, and the way that I almost feel like I'm in the room with him, listening to that incessant tapping, evermore.

Henry VanDerwater

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Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore-

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.

"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door-

Only this and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;

And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

Eagerly I wished the morrow;-vainly I had sought to borrow

From my books surcease of sorrow-sorrow for the lost Lenore-

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore-

Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain

Thrilled me-filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;

So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating

"'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door-

Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;-

This it is and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,

"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;

But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,

And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,

That I scarce was sure I heard you"-here I opened wide the door;-

Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;

But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,

And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?"

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"-

Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,

Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.

"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice;

Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore-

Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;-

'Tis the wind and nothing more!"

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,

In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;

Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;

But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door-

Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door-

Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,

By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,

"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,

Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore-

Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"

Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,

Though its answer little meaning-little relevancy bore;

For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being

Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door-

Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,

With such name as "Nevermore."

But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only

That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.

Nothing farther then he uttered-not a feather then he fluttered-

Till I scarcely more than muttered "Other friends have flown before-

On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before."

Then the bird said "Nevermore."

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,

"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store

Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster

Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore-

Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore

But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,

Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;

Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking

Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore-

What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore

Meant in croaking "Nevermore."

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing

To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;

This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining

On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,

But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,

She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer

Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.

"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee-by these angels he hath sent thee

Respite-respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;

Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"

Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!-prophet still, if bird or devil!-

Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,

Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted-

On this home by Horror haunted-tell me truly, I implore-

Is there- is there balm in Gilead?-tell me-tell me, I implore!"

Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!-prophet still, if bird or devil!

By that Heaven that bends above us-by that God we both adore-

Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,

It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore-

Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."

Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting-

"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!

Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!

Leave my loneliness unbroken!-quit the bust above my door!

Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"

Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting

On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;

And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,

And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor

Shall be lifted-nevermore!

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The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe | Poetry Foundation

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Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore- While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. "'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door- Only this and nothing more."

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Always Wild Geese. This poem saves me over and over again. "You do not have to be good...the world offers itself to your imagination." It's my version of "you can do this" talk. Whatever it is we go through, Mary Oliver's words offer us a comfort and determination, a strength like no other.

Margaret Simon

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"Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination..."

Mary Oliver (b. September 10, 1935) is among the most beloved and most prolific poets of the past century - a devoted craftswoman of exquisite poems and a sage of the secrets of the craft itself.

In this recording from a 2001 event held by the Lannan Foundation - the same reading that gave us Oliver on the magic of punctuation - the beloved writer reads the poem that would go on to become one of her most celebrated and lend its title to her 2004 volume Wild Geese: Selected Poems (public library). Oliver's work speaks so deeply and with such courageous honesty to some of our most profound human perplexities, struggles, and exaltations that it is read everywhere from commencement addresses to yoga classes, endlessly replicated on the social web and borrowed for those formulaic chapter-opening quotations in pop-psychology and self-help books. And yet despite the vast exposure, something singular, something mesmeric and immutably moving happens as Oliver swirls the intricate thought-things of her poem in her own mouth - to say nothing of the impossibly charming George Eliot anecdote with which she prefaces the reading:

WILD GEESE

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

Wild Geese: Selected Poems is a soul-stretching read in its entirety. Complement it with Oliver's deeply endearing , one of the best books of 2013.

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Mary Oliver Reads Her Beloved Poem "Wild Geese"

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Mary Oliver (b. September 10, 1935) is among the most beloved and most prolific poets of the past century - a devoted craftswoman of exquisite poems and a sage of the secrets of the craft itself.

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I love Lowell's colorful little poem. You can try to reach "impossible distances," and never achieve it and yet delight in the act of throwing each time you do it. --Diane Mayr

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ed. poetry: a magazine of verse. 1912-22

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Amy Lowell. Balls. Harriet Monroe, ed. Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912-22

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Amy Lowell. Balls. Harriet Monroe, ed. Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912-22

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Good Books, Good Times by Lee Bennett Hopkins

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Good Books, Good Times by Lee Bennett Hopkins

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When I began teaching, our districts librarians travelled for a week to help us celebrate something related to books. They chorally read this poem and I just fell in love with it. I love the message it has and the rhythm when it is read aloud. It's also something very manageable for younger early readers. I'm thrilled to find out Lee Bennett Hopkins reads it on Youtube.

Mandy Robek

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Children's Poetry Video "Good Books, Good Times!" by Lee Bennett Hopkins

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Children's poet and anthologist Lee Bennett Hopkins reads his signature poem "Good Books, Good Times!" Teachers, students, parents: read the full video blog post with additional poetry videos and extension activities: http://www.nowaterriver.com/poetry-month-2013-good-books-good-times-by-lee-bennett-hopkins See all children's poetry videos on my YouTube channel: http://www.youtube.com/user/NoWaterRiver?feature=mhee or at my website NoWaterRiver.com: http://www.nowaterriver.com/portfolio/poetry-videos/

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This poem helps me understand the news of the day, people around me, and also myself. I know it is about race, but I see it also as about the human spirit in all endeavors. When I read it, I imagine Maya Angelou reading it because hearing a poet read his or her own words helps me connect to the poem and I absolutely love the way Maya Angelou reads this poem.

Karen Caine

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For many years, writing WAS my secret life. This poem reminds me that sometimes the most precious things are the most private -- and that's wise and beautiful and exactly as it should be.

Irene Latham

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Every year during National Poetry Month, I like to share the poem " A Secret Life" by Stephen Dunn.

That's because, for many years, writing was my secret life. And so this poem remains one of my all-time favorites:

Why you need to have one
is not much more mysterious than
why you don't say what you think
at the birth of an ugly baby.
Or, you've just made love
and feel you'd rather have been
in a dark booth where your partner
was nodding, whispering yes, yes,
you're brilliant. The secret life
begins early, is kept alive
by all that's unpopular
in you, all that you know
a Baptist, say, or some other
accountant would object to.
It becomes what you'd most protect
if the government said you can protect
one thing, all else is ours.
When you write late at night
it's like a small fire
in a clearing, it's what
radiates and what can hurt
if you get too close to it.
It's why your silence is a kind of truth.
Even when you speak to your best friend,
the one who'll never betray you,
you always leave out one thing;
a secret life is that important.

So now I have a new secret life. And I hope you do too!

In other news: you can win a copy of my latest collection of poems THE COLOR LOST ROOMS at Writing With Cheryl!

And while you're there, get to know Cheryl. She was the one who taught the class (on freelance writing for magazines) oh about a dozen years ago that got me on the road to publication of my poems and stories!

Conference planners: Cheryl is a brilliant teacher. Hire her. Your attendees will thank you!

Now go visit Diane at Random Noodling for Poetry Friday Roundup! And the fabulous Heidi has added something humble to our Progressive Poem over at my juicy little universe.

OH. And my video is up at Renee LaTulippe's No Water River! Renee is pretty amazing. I am in awe of her technoskills and enthusiasm for poetry. She has done SO MUCH this month to add to the growing canon of work on the web by poets for children. Thank you, Renee! I'm thrilled to be included.

Happy day, all!

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Every year during National Poetry Month, I like to share the poem " A Secret Life" by Stephen Dunn. That's because, for many years, writing was my secret life. And so this poem remains one of my all-time favorites: Why you need to have one is not much more mysterious than why you don't say what you think at the birth of an ugly baby.

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I learned this poem by heart in 7th grade. Our teacher made us recite a poem every Friday. My own children are amazed when I spontaneously burst into Twas Brillig and the slithy toves.

Please add name here.

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rsquo;Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

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by Langston Hughes

This poem comes to me as I face any struggles or tough spots:

I find myself muttering, "Life for me ain't been no crystal stair." Then, I continue on to, "I'se been a-climbin' on." Bringing this poem to mind always puts things in perspective, and I realize my problems aren't really so big, after all. It is also a poem I love to share with students: pulling it out of my pocket, telling them it is one of my favorites and treating them to a dramatic reading. That is how I sometimes kick off "Poem in Your Pocket" day or month, or however we're celebrating poetry.

Kathy Spencer

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Thoughts That Were Put Into Words by Karla Kuskin

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Thoughts That Were Put Into Words by Karla Kuskin

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At the end of each school year, I always found a poem that meant goodbye, copied and laminated one for each student. I always had a mixed classroom, so I could only use this poem every few years. It has always been my favorite, a special sentiment. And Karla Kuskin is a favorite poet so students already knew other poems by her, too.

Linda Baie

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I love this poem because it contains so much. Melissa Techman

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This poem has gotten me through some very low times. It reminds me to appreciate my able mind and body, that nothing is guaranteed and that things can change in an instant.

Amy B. classic6books

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My very first class of fourth graders and I memorized Barter by Sara Teasdale. When I recite it to myself it reminds me to notice and appreciate this beautiful world.

Mary Lee Hahn

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Mark VanDerwater

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From New and Selected Poems, 1992
Beacon Press, Boston, MA

Copyright 1992 by Mary Oliver.
All rights reserved.

Reprinted by permission of Beacon Press from New and Selected Poems. Copyright 1992 by Mary Oliver. For further permissions information, contact Beacon Press, 25 Beacon Street, Boston, MA 02108-2892.

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Who made the world? Who made the swan, and the black bear? Who made the grasshopper?

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I adore "A Poem for Emily" because helps me remember the fleetingness of time...and how important it is to show love....throughout the years.

Amy Ludwig VanDerwater

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NOVEMBER 29, 2017

Contact Update:
General questions, requests, and comments about programming
MPR Member & Audience Services
800-228-7123 (Weekdays 9 a.m.-4:30 p.m. CT.)
Contact form

ST. PAUL, Minn. - Minnesota Public Radio (MPR) is terminating its contracts with Garrison Keillor and his private media companies after recently learning of allegations of his inappropriate behavior with an individual who worked with him.

Last month, MPR was notified of the allegations which relate to Mr. Keillor's conduct while he was responsible for the production of A Prairie Home Companion (APHC). MPR President Jon McTaggart immediately informed the MPR Board Chair, and a special Board committee was appointed to provide oversight and ongoing counsel. In addition, MPR retained an outside law firm to conduct an independent investigation of the allegations. Based on what we currently know, there are no similar allegations involving other staff. The attorney leading the independent investigation has been conducting interviews and reviewing documents, and the investigation is still ongoing. We encourage anyone with additional information to call our confidential hotline 1-877-767-7781.

MPR takes these allegations seriously and we are committed to maintaining a safe, respectful and supportive work environment for all employees and everyone associated with MPR. We want a workplace where anyone who experiences unwanted behavior feels comfortable in reporting concerns to MPR. Discrimination, harassment, retaliation or other inappropriate behaviors will not be tolerated.

MPR will end its business relationships with Mr. Keillor's media companies effective immediately. By terminating the contracts, MPR and American Public Media (APM) will:

* end distribution and broadcast of The Writer's Almanac and rebroadcasts of The Best of A Prairie Home Companion hosted by Garrison Keillor;

* change the name of APM's weekly music and variety program hosted by Chris Thile; and,

* separate from the Pretty Good Goods online catalog and the PrairieHome.org website.

MPR and APM will work closely with public radio stations to help make the programming transitions as seamless as possible. "Garrison Keillor has been an important part of the growth and success of MPR, and all of us in the MPR community are saddened by these circumstances," said Jon McTaggart, President of MPR. "While we appreciate the contributions Garrison has made to MPR and to all of public radio, we believe this decision is the right thing to do and is necessary to continue to earn the trust of our audiences, employees and supporters of our public service." "Over the last several weeks, the special Board Committee has worked closely with MPR President Jon McTaggart and legal counsel to review the facts as we know them and carefully consider the implications of the various options," said David Murphy, Chair of the MPR Board of Trustees. "The Board Committee concluded that terminating the Keillor relationships was the appropriate decision and the Board and Jon are aligned in this action. Fortunately, MPR is one of the strongest public broadcasting organizations in the country. We are confident MPR will continue to innovate with programming and content that ensures MPR will remain one of the most valued sources of news, information and entertainment for decades to come."

Angie Andresen
Director, Communications and Member & Audience Services
American Public Media | Minnesota Public Radio
480 Cedar Street, Saint Paul, MN 55101

2017-11-29T17:28:47+00:00

Contributors:

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Statement From Minnesota Public Radio Regarding Garrison Keillor and A Prairie Home Companion | Minnesota Public Radio

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NOVEMBER 29, 2017 Contact Update: General questions, requests, and comments about programming MPR Member & Audience Services 800-228-7123 (Weekdays 9 a.m.-4:30 p.m. CT.) Contact form ST. PAUL, Minn. - Minnesota Public Radio (MPR) is terminating its contracts with Garrison Keillor and his private media companies after recently learning of allegations of his inappropriate behavior with an individual who worked with him.