#poem-a-day

[aaknopf]

Margaret Atwood’s recent Paper Boat: New and Selected Poems 1961-2023 treats us to some delightful previously uncollected poems, such as this portrait of a domestic surface and what lies beneath.

The Interior Decorator

I practise the outworn Victorian art Of hooking wool roses to cover The piano legs; limbs rather; but under These ornate surfaces, the hard Naked wood is still there.

I am industrious and clever With my hands: I execute in paint Landscapes on doorpanels and screens. Down my arranged vistas, furniture And pillows flourish in plump scenery

And on my table stands a miniature Lemon tree in a small china garden. It is prudent to thus restrain one’s eden Indoors. I never eat my bitter lemons And everything remains in its own spot

Except the devil, who is under the piano With a fringed purple tablecloth over Him. I hear him sucking lemon rinds. I cannot make him blend with my decor Even with roses: his tail sticks out behind.

More on this book and author:

Learn more about Paper Boat by Margaret Atwood.

Browse other books by Margaret Atwood and follow her on Instagram @therealmargaretatwood and X @MargaretAtwood.

Visit our Tumblr to peruse poems, audio recordings, and broadsides in the Knopf poem-a-day series.

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[the-pinetree-poet]

2025 APRIL POEM-A-DAY CHALLENGE: DAY 8 ~ THE TWELVE STEP STAIRWAY

THE TWELVE STEP STAIRWAY © 2025 G. Smith (BMI) =================== It finally came to this, After all this time, We’re here at the bottom, Facing a long, uphill climb. It’s a twelve step stairway, We both know never ends, Full of taking stock and making lists, And finally giving in.

You know that I can’t fix you, And I’m not the one to break you, There’s some things you need to do, And we both know I can’t make you. I will lean in right beside you, And I never once forsake you. Together we got here on our own; And you know I won’t leave you all alone,

There’s pain on both sides of the coin, But no reason for any kind of shame; As long as we do our parts, And assign any blame. ‘Cause it’s a twelve step stairway, We both know never ends, Filled with taking stock and making lists, And finally giving in.

Knowing that no matter what we do, Will simply be the start of something new. One day at a time, I’m here for you. One step at a time, I’m here for you. Always know that I’m, One day at a time, Here, For, You.

[slateblueearthbelow]

Acceptance

by Kerry Hardie

Yesterday it was still January and I drove home and the roads were wet and the fields were wet and a palette knife

had spread a slab of dark blue forestry across the hill. A splashed white van appeared from a side road then turned off and I drove on into the drab morning

which was mudded and plain and there was a kind of weary happiness that nothing was trying to be anything much and nothing was being suggested. I don’t know how else to explain

the calm of this grey wetness with hardly a glimmer of light or life, only my car tyres swishing the lying water, and the crows balanced and rocking on the windy lines.

[tinkercreek]

The warble of melting snow is the river

is the bleat of the sandhill crane is the hush of the autonomous mind        of the flame above the canyon is the cow drinking water from mud          is the cow and the word cow is the deckled face in the overhang of stone is the bone weathered into wood is the wood weathered to stone is the sentence is the moment that longs to be the sentence hidden in a sentence is the legislated road         is the grass is the grass is the nerve that runs from socket to wrist is the common knowledge of aperture and speed is the hole to be yawned into         its origin         the stone that says the impulse of water         is the moss against is the growing in spite of

by Emily Lee Luan

Originally published in Poem-a-Day on October 18, 2023, by the Academy of American Poets

Hear the poet read this poem aloud here

[gtunesmiff]

2024 APRIL POEM-A-DAY CHALLENGE: DAY 22 ~ SIMPLY WHERE WE ARE

SIMPLY WHERE WE ARE ©2024 G. Smith (BMI) ================== Underneath the pavement, Underneath the steel, Underneath the ever-present, Ever-turning wheels.

Underneath the plastic, Underneath the fumes, Underneath the ever-present, Everlasting gloom and doom.

Underneath the concrete, Underneath the grass, Underneath the gravel, And the artificial grass.

Underneath the heavens, Underneath the stars, Underneath the sun and moon, Is simply where we are. Underneath the sun and moon, Is simply where we are.

[agirlnamedbone]

pub. by Academy of American Poets

[firefly464]

Is this anything

[lady-lazarus-13]

American Abyss

Cynthia Dewi Oka

I followed here the heart   I built for you. Here it is, blue

as the preening peacock’s crest, bruise   renewed again and again. Blue as

children made vapor, families ground to grist raining on the accordion

chest of the sea. I followed here my own   forgetting of the fireflies that blink

like prayers in belligerent grasses; my dreams of mattering, as in, appearing—

a noun in your syntax. That stone   you strike for water. Is this not

the Dream? To take more than   bodies have to give, then eat without

discord? I want you to know I have always understood my place. That

the only feeling more beautiful than   your fear is your want. Look,

how your flowers light the world.

[authenticity2025]

[melissande]

Eras tan pequeña en mis manos

que ninguna esquirla te dio,

pero el polvo y

el humo de la bomba

alcanzaron tus pulmones.

Sin necesidad de gasa.

Sólo cerraron tus ojos.

Sin necesidad de mortaja.

Ya estabas

envuelta en tu manta.

Mosab Abu Toha

[inhernature]

(via Sahar Muradi: "All I can see is nothing")

All I can see is nothing

by Sahar Muradi

If nothing that can be seen can either be God or represent Him to us as He is, then to find God we must pass beyond everything that can be seen and enter into darkness. Since nothing that can be heard is God, to find Him we must enter into silence. —Thomas Merton, from “New Seeds of Contemplation,” 1961

I swear to God, mom, I am exhausted, but praise be to God in all circumstances. —writing, translated from the Arabic, on the Al-Shifa Hospital walls, April 2024

All I can see is nothing Fields of

Hollow The O that escapes

A pasture of Mouths

An apartment building Of locked jaws

The silent weeping Of rocks

I hear nothing In the bags of soft limbs sighing

Milk teeth Sharpening a father’s heart

The cone hat on the small head Singing to plumes

Iftar in the tents Flapping pages off the moon

But Your name over and over On the hospital walls

But Your name stilling The fire that does not cease

But Your name everywhere Everything all at once

I see nothing From this distance

This deepest night This longest darkness

Fumble at fajr To loosen my gasps

I repeat Your name Over and over

Then bow to Your wisdom To the terror of Your liberation

O that I may not see anything More

Copyright © 2024 by Sahar Muradi. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on December 31, 2024, by the Academy of American Poets.

[aaknopf]

[the-pinetree-poet]

2025 APRIL POEM-A-DAY CHALLENGE: DAY 8

On this, the eighth day of the 2025 April Poem-A-Day Challenge, we find ourselves tasked with the second Two-for-Tuesday prompt of the month:

Write a love poem and/or...

Write an anti-love poem.

Regulars know, this is one that's always include. 

This year, it's offered sooner rather than later. 

Whether you love it or anti-love it, let's all poem it now.

Remember:

These prompts are springboards to creativity. 

Use them to expand your possibilities, not limit them

[slateblueearthbelow]

[tinkercreek]

If Night You Were a City

I would return to you in a jacket of gold leaves  drawn tight against the city wind  whipping around corners through button holes over  cobbled streets park lanes  cordoned-off barbarian herds  of steel and glass and concrete ground zero for crowds  of absence. We’d lift off beyond the brick  toward choked stars, moons outshined by neon  and by anxious day, moons perched on dark spires  golden lions we’d wrap our naïve wings around  to embrace the artifice of it all  and the reality: the heat here is unbearable  and I miss the need to be warm, that need to look  forward to nights alone with you with no morning on our minds  no time  no need to claw through  restaurants packed with bridge and tunnel drunk  on the filth and the beauty.  For here there is no comparison  no autumn as autumn no snow to justify  a hot drink or a fat meal the fish is delicious  and the beer even better but not the same.  Some say the grass is greener as if it’s law  and more that I try to recreate  metropolis each time a baobab drops a beetle  to flee every time winter floods the sand  to mute the night— boats eclipsing the mainland sprawl  trading with another language transformed before my ears:  tell me how you lived your dream and I will tell you who you are  every night, every single night and with a wingspan  I resurrect in a cold sweat  and off in the distance  there are drums drums beating the island

Adam Wiedewitsch for Jan. 1, 2024 Poem-a-Day

listen to Adam read "If Night You Were a City" on the Academy of American Poets website

[gtunesmiff]

2023 NOVERMBER POEM-A-DAY CHAPBOOK CHALLENGE: DAY 28 ~ SOME DAYS

SOME DAYS © 2023 G. Smith (BMI) ================== Some days a victory! Some days – defeat… Some days excited; Some days – just beat. Some days a lion, Some days – the meat Some days a victory! Some days – defeat.

Some days you seize, Some days you survive. Each day is different, Part of being alive. Some fly by quickly, Some, a long nine to five. Some days you seize, Some days you survive.

Some are a battle, Some are a dance. Each one is different, You just take your chance. A walk in the park, A long rush-hour drive. Some days you seize, Some days you survive.

Some days a victory! Some days – defeat… Some days excited; Some days – just beat. Some days a lion, Some days – the meat Some days a victory! Some days – defeat.

Some days you fumble, And some days you thrive, Some days you stumble, And bumble and strive, To climb high on the mountain, And not take a dive. Some days you seize, Some days you survive.

Some days you push, Some days you pull. Some days are lonely, Some days are full, Some days are family, Some just husbands and wives. Some days you seize, Some days you survive.

Some days a victory! Some days – defeat… Some days excited; Some days – just beat. Some days a lion, Some days – the meat Some days a victory! Some days – defeat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A 2-fer-Tuesday prompt:

SEIZE THE DAY

SURVIVE THE DAY