- 1.Poetry Thursday!
- 2.Poetry Thursday!
- 3.Poetry almost Thursday, Thanksgiving Edition
- 4.The first day of December, Poetry Thursday
- 5.Boy At the Window — Poetry Thursday
- 6.A Poem About Evolution — Poetry Thursday
- 7.Like Snow – Poetry Thursday
- 8.The Peace of Wild Things – Poetry Thursday
- 9.Rain – Poetry Thursday
- 10.The Real Work – Poetry Thursday
- 11.To The River – Poetry Thursday
- 12.A Beautiful Poem About Internal Darkness
- 13.Poetry Thursday – School Prayer
- 14.Poetry Thursday – Genius
- 15.Poetry Thursday – Soon This Space Will Be Too Small
- 16.A Poem from Stephen Harrod Buhner
- 17.To Bless the Space Between Us – Poetry Thursday!
- 18.Poetry Thursday – A Quote from Antoine de Saint-Exupery
- 19.Poetry Thursday – Sarah Cleghorn
- 20.On a Tree Fallen Across the Road by Robert Frost
- 21.A Noiseless Patient Spider by Walt Whitman
- 22.My Will by Lorna Goodison
- 23.Going Away – A Poem from the Quechua
- 24.Blessing by John O’Donohue
- 25.The Trouble with Poetry by Billy Collins
- 26.Wild Geese by Wendell Berry
- 27.Silence of the Fall by Louisa Paulin
- 28.Poetry Thursday – Karl Ove Knausgaard
- 29.Snow Day by Billy Collins – Poetry Thursday
- 30.Winter Solstice by Jodi Aliesan – Poetry Thursday
- 31.A Brief For The Defense by Jack Gilbert
- 32.Lost by David Wagoner
- 33.Fiddling with the Idiot by Hafiz
- 34.The Sixth of January by David Budbill
- 35.Two Tramps in Mud Time by Robert Frost
Billy Collins is one of my favorite Poets, below is one of his poems I’d like to share.
It makes me think about assumptions and freedom.
See No Evil
No one expected all three of them
to sit there on their tree stumps forever,
their senses covered with their sinuous paws
so as to shut out the vile, nefarious world.
As it happened,
it was the one on the left
who was the first to desert his post,
uncupping his ears,
then loping off into the orbit of rumors and lies,
but also into the realm of symphonies,
the sound of water tumbling over rocks
and wind stirring the leafy domes of trees.
Then the monkey on the right lowered his hands
from his wide mouth and slipped away
in search of someone to talk to,
some news he could spread,
maybe something to curse or shout about.
And that left the monkey in the middle
alone with his silent vigil,
shielding his eyes from depravity’s spectacle,
blind to the man whipping his horse,
the woman shaking her baby in the air,
but also unable to see
the russet sun on a rough shelf of rock
and apples in the grass at the base of a tree.
Sometimes, he wonders about the other two,
listens for the faint sounds of their breathing
up there on the mantel
alongside the clock and the candlesticks.
And some nights in the quiet house
he wishes he could break the silence with a question,
but he knows the one on his right
would not be able to hear,
and the one to his left,
according to their sacred oath–
the one they all took with one paw raised–
is forbidden forever to speak, even in reply.