I’ve never thought of myself as a Poetry Girlie — the only one I can remember off by heart is the first verse of Ning Nang Nong — but in recent months, I’ve found myself gravitating towards them more often.
I don’t seek them out, but every so often one will fly into my orbit — usually via the instagram account @poetryisnotaluxury, which I first found via
— and it’ll speak to something deep within my soul. I think it’s something to do with the incredible imagery they inspire, the creative energy that can evoke such emotion in so few words. Whatever it is, to celebrate National Poetry Day (today, good tidings to you all!) I wanted to share a few of my faves today, in case they stirred something in you too.The Orange, by Wendy Cope
At lunchtime I bought a huge orange
The size of it made us all laugh.
I peeled it and shared it with Robert and Dave—
They got quarters and I had a half.
And that orange it made me so happy,
As ordinary things often do
Just lately. The shopping. A walk in the park
This is peace and contentment. It’s new.
The rest of the day was quite easy.
I did all my jobs on my list
And enjoyed them and had some time over.
I love you. I’m glad I exist.
in Serious Concerns, by Wendy Cope (affiliate link)
Small Kindnesses, by Danusha Laméris
I’ve been thinking about the way, when you walk
down a crowded aisle, people pull in their legs
to let you by. Or how strangers still say “bless you”
when someone sneezes, a leftover
from the Bubonic plague. “Don’t die,” we are saying.
And sometimes, when you spill lemons
from your grocery bag, someone else will help you
pick them up. Mostly, we don’t want to harm each other.
We want to be handed our cup of coffee hot,
and to say thank you to the person handing it. To smile
at them and for them to smile back. For the waitress
to call us honey when she sets down the bowl of clam chowder,
and for the driver in the red pick-up truck to let us pass.
We have so little of each other, now. So far
from tribe and fire. Only these brief moments of exchange.
What if they are the true dwelling of the holy, these
fleeting temples we make together when we say, “Here,
have my seat,” “Go ahead — you first,” “I like your hat.”
first read in the New York Times Magazine
Indoor Voice, by Charlotte Moore
Use your indoor voice, they tell us
Hushed tones are far better.
Softer, young lady.
Quiet now.
But my outdoor voice can start a chorus.
Singing ‘Sweet Caroline’ in a crowded pub.
It calls back wayward dogs and wayward children.
You can hear my laugh from outside a front door.
My boyfriend hears me in the shower singing Billy Joel,
And, in a crowded room, an anxious friend stands,
Pressed against a wall, heart racing.
My outdoor voice will call them home.
I’m here.
And, you can hear me.
An outdoor voice calls me.
The sounds of squealing girls, peeling with laughter.
The sound of you calling me home.
in VORACIOUS Issue 1 (find Charlotte on instagram here @charlotte.a.moore)
Wild Geese, by Mary Oliver
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.
featured in Devotions, by Mary Oliver
[Unknown], by Rudy Francisco
Get out of bed.
The day has been
asking about you.
It dragged the sun into your
room this morning, pulled an
entire disco of light through
your curtains, hoping that all
of this gleam would be enough
to get your attention. This is how
today says, notice me.
Much Too Much, by Mollie Goodfellow
Sometimes it feels like saying
“I would like to be with somebody”,
in a romantic way,
is a failing.
Like, why am I not enough?
And the truth is:
I am entirely enough
If anything,
I am too much.
Someone else deserves the overflow
of my muchness.
It’s a charitable thing, in fact
to want there to be someone to mop up my
time, like bread in gravy.
Or some other more poetic metaphor.
@hansmollman, in VORACIOUS Issue 2
Maximalist, by Monika Radojevic
I want a hot pink fuck off dress! Backless AND
feathered, deify me with it, I think I'll look delicious and
I'll eat a burger in it, leaning over the table so I don't
drip aioli on my gown. I want to get my nails done too
long, I want a masterpiece on my fingers so I can
incorporate them into conversations, exaggerate my
movements and revel in the drama of it. I want
champagne breakfasts and then sushi as a 'light snack'
I want to be the woman who orders oysters for table
and doesn't gag, glitter on my eyelids and pearls in my
hair. I want to go commando and giggle about it, at
ease at ease at EASE with myself no matter what kind
of bruises might be coming my way. I want asymmetrical/orange/statement shoes that make me
feel like 'that bitch', I want a closet full of investment
pieces so I can walk around dripping in them like "it's
nothing, baby!" and I want dinner parties with everyone
I love in the same room at the same time, drinks on me,
and an entire stack of macarons that actually taste of
different flavours. Lipstick on my teeth - couldn’t give a
shit - it’s 8pm, we’re laughing, the sun is getting closer.
When it touches the earth - I want to live in it.
Do you have any fave poems that you always return to? I’d love to know - feel free to recommend some in the comments!
More fruit related poetry - This Is Just To Say by William Carlos Williams:
I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox
and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast
Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold
Very sad there isn't a plum emoji...
LOVE all these choices!
A perineal favourite is Ithaca by CP Cavfy. Too long to put it all here but here's my favourite snippet from the end:
"...Keep Ithaca always in your mind.
Arriving there is what you're destined for.
But don't hurry the journey at all.
Better if it lasts for years,
So you are old by the time you reach the island,
wealthy with all you have gained along the way,
not expecting Ithaca to make you rich.
Ithaca gave you the marvellous journey -
Without her you wouldn't have set out.
She has nothing left to give you now.
And if you find her poor, Ithaca will not have deceived you.
Wise as you have become, so full of experience,
You'll have understood by then what Ithaca means..."