Quite Excellent

I did it! I kept this under 20 minutes!

I sound like a supervillain! Oh no! 😲

Did I Miss Anything? Tom Wayman Nothing. When we realized you weren’t here we sat with our hands folded on our desks in silence, for the full two hours Everything. I gave an exam worth 40 percent of the grade for this term and assigned some reading due today on which I’m about to hand out a quiz worth 50 percent Nothing. None of the content of this course has value or meaning Take as many days off...

The End A.A. Milne When I was One, I had just begun. When I was Two, I was nearly new. When I was Three, I was hardly me. When I was Four, I was not much more. When I was Five, I was just alive. But now I am six, I'm as clever as clever So I think I'll be six now Forever and ever.

Ode to my Suit Pablo Neruda Every morning, suit, you are waiting on a chair to be filled by my vanity, my love, my hope, my body. Still only half awake I leave the shower to shrug into your sleeves, my legs seek the hollow of your legs, and thus embraced by your unfailing loyalty I take my morning walk, work my way into my poetry; from my windows I see the things, men, women, events and struggles...

defining the magic Charles Bukowski a good poem is like a cold beer when you need it, a good poem is a hot turkey sandwich when you’re hungry, a good poem is a gun when the mob corners you, a good poem is something that allows you to walk through the streets of death, a good poem can make death melt like hot butter, a good poem can frame agony and hang it on a wall, a good poem can let your feet t...

Not Bad, Dad, Not Bad Jan Heller Levi I think you are most yourself when you are swimming; slicing the water with each stroke, the funny way you breathe, your mouth cocked as though you're yawning.  You're neither fantastic nor miserable at getting from here to there. You wouldn't win any medals, Dad, but you wouldn't drown. I think how different everything might have been had I judged your loving...

School Prayer Diane Ackerman   In the name of the daybreak and the eyelids of morning and the wayfaring moon and the night when it departs, I swear I will not dishonor my soul with hatred, but offer myself humbly as a guardian of nature, as a healer of misery, as a messenger of wonder, as an architect of peace. In the name of the sun and its mirrors and the day that embraces it and the cloud veils...

From A Song About Myself John Keats There was a naughty boy, And a naughty boy was he, He ran away to Scotland The people for to see — Then he found That the ground Was as hard, That a yard Was as long, That a song Was as merry, That a cherry Was as red, That lead Was as weighty, That fourscore Was as eighty, That a door Was as wooden As in England — So he stood in his shoes And he wondered, He wo...

The Fairy School under the Loch By John Rice  The wind sings its gusty song. The bell rings its rusty ring. The underwater fairy children dive and swim through school gates. They do not get wet.  The waves flick their flashing spray. A school of fish wriggles its scaly way. The underwater fairy children learn their liquidy lessons. Their reading books are always dry.  The seal straighten in a stre...

Today By Billy Collins If ever there were a spring day so perfect, so uplifted by a warm intermittent breeze that it made you want to throw open all the windows in the house and unlatch the door to the canary's cage, indeed, rip the little door from its jamb, a day when the cool brick paths and the garden bursting with peonies seemed so etched in sunlight that you felt like taking a hammer to the...

Toad Circus by Julia Story   The day after my toad circus the toads were all dead, crunchy and silent in their window well. I wanted to draw a doorway to walk through to get to the world of lilacs: purple, contagious green leaves and no movement but the steady invisible breathing of flowers. I knew I had to tell someone what I had done so I first walked to the park and stayed there until dusk, sit...

The Yawn by Paul Blackburn   The black-haired girl with the big                                             brown                                                                         eyes  on the Queens train coming                                             in to work, so opens her mouth so beautifully                                             wide                                           ...

Occasional Poem BY JACQUELINE WOODSON Ms. Marcus says that an occasional poem is a poem written about something important or special that's gonna happen or already did. Think of a specific occasion, she says—and write about it. Like what?! Lamont asks. He's all slouched down in his seat. I don't feel like writing about no occasion. How about your birthday? Ms. Marcus says. What about it? Just a bi...

Ars Poetica BY ARCHIBALD MACLEISH A poem should be palpable and mute As a globed fruit, Dumb As old medallions to the thumb, Silent as the sleeve-worn stone Of casement ledges where the moss has grown— A poem should be wordless As the flight of birds. * A poem should be motionless in time As the moon climbs, Leaving, as the moon releases Twig by twig the night-entangled trees, Leaving, as the moon...

“Days” Tony Mitton Old Day, gold day, where did you go? Over the skyline, sinking low. Into the arms of the waiting night to nestle myself in its dark delight. New day, blue day, what will you bring? Light in the sky and a song to sing. Sun bobs brightly up with the dawn, spreading warmth as the day is born.

“On Turning Ten”Billy Collins The whole idea of it makes me feellike I'm coming down with something,something worse than any stomach acheor the headaches I get from reading in bad light--a kind of measles of the spirit,a mumps of the psyche,a disfiguring chicken pox of the soul. You tell me it is too early to be looking back,but that is because you have forgottenthe perfect simplicity of being one...

"If I Had Known" Mary Carolyn Davies If I had known what trouble you were bearing; What griefs were in the silence of your face; I would have been more gentle, and more caring, And tried to give you gladness for a space. I would have brought more warmth into the place, If I had known. If I had known what thoughts despairing drew you; (Why do we never try to understand?) I would have lent a little...

Autumn Kalidasa The autumn comes, a maiden fair In slenderness and grace, With nodding rice-stems in her hair And lilies in her face. In flowers of grasses she is clad; And as she moves along, Birds greet her with their cooing glad Like bracelets' tinkling song. A diadem adorns the night Of multitudinous stars; Her silken robe is white moonlight, Set free from cloudy bars; And on her face (the rad...

Did I Miss Anything? Tom Wayman Nothing. When we realized you weren’t here we sat with our hands folded on our desks in silence, for the full two hours Everything. I gave an exam worth 40 percent of the grade for this term and assigned some reading due today on which I’m about to hand out a quiz worth 50 percent Nothing. None of the content of this course has value or meaning Take as many days off...

Does Maude Have Friends? (A Poem in Fifteen Tweets) Raphael Bob-Waksberg @RaphaelBW  Does Marge have friends? @RaphaelBW  (a poem in fifteen tweets) @RaphaelBW  Who are Marge’s friends? Is Helen Lovejoy a friend? Sarah Wiggum? Agnes Skinner? @RaphaelBW  To whom does Marge spill her secrets over coffee on cold days? Who laughs at Marge’s jokes? Who knows Marge, truly and well? @RaphaelBW  Who tells...

We Wear the Mask BY PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR We wear the mask that grins and lies, It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,— This debt we pay to human guile; With torn and bleeding hearts we smile, And mouth with myriad subtleties. Why should the world be over-wise, In counting all our tears and sighs? Nay, let them only see us, while We wear the mask. We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries To thee...

A Good Dog Tail-wagging and leash-pulling as we lead her into her new home, let loose she runs from the front door, runs fast not about the house, wild, but out into the back. Excitement paused for manners, she uses the little dog's room that first sweet day, because She is a Good Dog. Tail-wagging, window-fogging as we bring Santa's snow for wishing children, she's in my lap inside the truck, eag...

The Wounded Cupid. Song BY ANACREON TRANSLATED BY ROBERT HERRICK Cupid as he lay among Roses, by a Bee was stung. Whereupon in anger flying To his Mother, said thus crying; Help! O help! your Boy’s a dying. And why, my pretty Lad, said she? Then blubbering, replied he, A winged Snake has bitten me, Which Country people call a Bee. At which she smil’d; then with her hairs And kisses drying up his t...