Tuesday Poem: "Failing and Flying" by Jack Gilbert

Everyone forgets that Icarus also flew.
It's the same when love comes to an end,
or the marriage fails and people say
they knew it was a mistake, that everybody
said it would never work. That she was
old enough to know better. But anything
worth doing is worth doing badly.
Like being there by that summer ocean
on the other side of the island while
love was fading out of her, the stars
burning so extravagantly those nights that
anyone could tell you they would never last.
Every morning she was asleep in my bed
like a visitation, the gentleness in her
like antelope standing in the dawn mist.
Each afternoon I watched her coming back
through the hot stony field after swimming,
the sea light behind her and the huge sky
on the other side of that. Listened to her
while we ate lunch. How can they say
the marriage failed? Like the people who
came back from Provence (when it was Provence)
and said it was pretty but the food was greasy.
I believe Icarus was not failing as he fell,
but just coming to the end of his triumph.

by Jack Gilbert

For more information about poet, Jack Gilbert, see:

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/jack-gilbert

Tuesday Poem: "Anxiety and Doubt (Angst und Zweifel)" by Erich Fried

Don't doubt

someone
who says
they're anxious.

Be anxious about
anyone
who says
they're without doubt

by Erich Fried

(translated by Paul McConnell)

Zweifle nicht
an dem
der dir sagt
er hat Angst

aber hab Angst
vor dem
der dir sagt
er kennt keinen Zweifel

For more information about the poet, Erich Fried, see:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Erich_Fried

Tuesday Poem: "White Apples" by Donald Hall

when my father had been dead a week

I woke
with his voice in my ear
I sat up in bed
and held my breath
and stared at the pale closed door

white apples and the taste of stone

if he called again
I would put on my coat and galoshes

by Donald Hall

For more information about the poet, Donald Hall, see:

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/donald-hall

Tuesday Poem: "American Sonnet for My Past and Future Assassin [“I lock you in an American sonnet that is part prison”]" by Terrance Hayes

I lock you in an American sonnet that is part prison,
Part panic closet, a little room in a house set aflame.
I lock you in a form that is part music box, part meat
Grinder to separate the song of the bird from the bone.
I lock your persona in a dream-inducing sleeper hold
While your better selves watch from the bleachers.
I make you both gym & crow here. As the crow
You undergo a beautiful catharsis trapped one night
In the shadows of the gym. As the gym, the feel of crow-
Shit dropping to your floors is not unlike the stars
Falling from the pep rally posters on your walls.
I make you a box of darkness with a bird in its heart.
Voltas of acoustics, instinct & metaphor. It is not enough
To love you. It is not enough to want you destroyed.

by Terrance Hayes

For more information about poet, Terrance Hayes, see:

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/terrance-hayes

Tuesday Poem: "Turtle Came to See Me" by Margarita Engle

The first story I ever write

is a bright crayon picture

of a dancing tree, the branches

tossed by island wind.

I draw myself standing beside the tree,

with a colorful parrot soaring above me,

and a magical turtle clasped in my hand,

and two yellow wings fluttering

on the proud shoulders of my ruffled

Cuban rumba dancer's

fancy dress.

In my California kindergarten class,

the teacher scolds me: REAL TREES

DON'T LOOK LIKE THAT.

It's the moment

when I first

begin to learn

that teachers

can be wrong.

They have never seen

the dancing plants

of Cuba.

by Margarita Engle

For more information about poet, Margarita Engle, see:

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/margarita-engle