u/listen_joyiscoming

A poem written decades ago that unfortunately remains true, fresh, timeless

From her book Here, translated by translated by Clare Cavanagh and Stanisław Barańczak

This poem made me laugh initially, as do a lot of Szymborska’s poems, but then it felt sobering, chilling. In giving this one tame example and not any others, she forces the reader to consider what other examples of this phenomenon might exist in the world now— and in the world’s long and violent history.

Interesting to consider Violence as its own force. With fingers, with personality, with humor.

Interesting to borrow the language of an argumentative essay (with this example, demonstrates…) for a poem.

In honor of my best friend getting married this weekend, I’m sharing my very favorite wedding poem 💕

It can be found in José Olivarez’s book Promises of Gold

I am chronically ill in a way that involves surgeries from time to time & my hope is that someday I emerge from anesthesia and the last five lines of this poem pop into my mind.

Instead of what happened last time: me very enthusiastically wishing the nurse a happy birthday. Which, strangely enough, it was. Or it had been the day before. Don’t know how my half-conscious self knew that. It kind of freaked her out. ANYWAY, Deluge is a great book

& you, my bright hibiscus, my every color 🥹

I read this poem first in Poetry magazine and then in her New & Selected Poems, which won the Pulitzer last year and also my heart.

The ending makes me shiver… and I like the chilling simplicity and unrelenting repetition of the rest.

I actually think the ideas of this poem are not that simple. I think a lot about the connections between colonialism & climate change, about the connection between ableism and capitalism. But I don’t see discussion of that very often.

What a strange, specific feeling… that it is somehow also very recognizable.

I started Stay Dead last night and I am enjoying it possibly too much!

This poem makes me ache, though it’s been a long time since I’ve had my heart broken. By a lover, at least. The way every detail can get so vivid at the end— and stay vivid, in memory.

The title serves as the anchor for the whole poem. Interesting to consider how it would read without it—or with a different title.

It would be easy for a poem with this general idea of self-compassion to end up being cheesy? But the language is so sharp and specific (catastrophic dawn, nicotine crawling) that it ends up landing just right. The ending, that last stanza, makes me tear up.

This is a poem I memorized without meaning to. A poem that makes me feel without fully understanding why.

From his collection Walking to Martha’s Vineyard

I find this poem charming. Pleasantries and unpleasantries, yes. And the ending!

It makes me think about the first time I saw my mother consciously, as a person apart from me, as someone who existed before me. A small child’s epiphany: I existed because of her, not the reverse.

I think of this poem every single Mother’s Day & I’m sure I am not alone in that, so here it is!

Also from her book The Carrying

For anyone who might need an ambivalent motherhood poem today ❤️

The Carrying circles the topic of motherhood: both Ada’s relationship to her mom and her own failed fertility treatments. In another poem, she asks “what if, instead of carrying / a child, I’m supposed to carry grief?”

But this poem, the last one in the collection, creates space to consider what might be lost if she got her desire, what might be gained by the lack.

I’ve never read a poem quite like this before.

Author’s Note:
Poem contains words (italicized) from and titles of the 4 articles of David Walker’s Appeal to the Coloured Citizens of the World (1829).

I love a slyly erotic poem. I went searching for it last night because it stuck in my mind from reading it years ago.

And this time I noticed all the movement… the talk rising, bees coming to the spirals of pears, the scent of the spice drifting up, the sun passing through. Even the round table and spiral of the pears contain a little motion.

The poem almost feels like a still life (surely the scene could be painted) except we wouldn’t have access to that secret knowledge of what happened earlier that day. What we are given in the poem.

My favorite poem from her book Mules of Love

The earth, the sky, the sea, the sea, the earth, the sea, the earth, the sky, the sky, the earth. The imagery in this poem really works for me

I honestly had no idea that I loved Rumi until I read Haleh Liza Gafori’s new translations. I guess it was Coleman Barks that I never connected to…

This poem won an Academy of American Poets Prize and was published on poets.org. I’ll share a link in the comments!

I think the world needs more love poems, so I’m trying to do my part. Happy to answer any questions