I love poetry. I love reading the poetry of others, and sometimes I like creating my own. These days, with a new little person at our house, I find little time to write. So I thought I would share with you some of my favorite poems, written by others.

It’s hard to say what makes a poem stand out to me; sometimes it is the rhythm, other times it’s the words that grab me by the heart. Your favorites will be different from mine, but mine are special to me.

If you’re looking for a common theme, you’re not likely to find it. Just random poems by talented poets… all different; but I think each one is a treat in it’s own way. Enjoy!

First, two short poems that remind me to be considerate…

There’s one that I can’t seem to find my copy of; but I think, from hearing my mother recite it when I was a child, I know it well enough to share it with you, without doing Robert Frost too grave an injustice.

I’d say this poem mostly just makes me feel nostalgic, bringing back memories of childhood and the horse and buggy days. It doesn’t appeal so much to the emotions, but rather paints a word picture, that to me is vivid and beautiful. Having said all that, to the best of my ability, I give you:

“Stopping By a Woods on a Snowy Evening”

Whose woods these are I think I know,
His house is in the village, though.
He will not see me stopping here,
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop, without a farmhouse near,
Between the woods and frozen lake,
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake,
To ask, “Has there been some mistake?
The only other sound, the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

These woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
And miles to go before I sleep.
-Robert Frost

. . . . . . . .

This one, from one of my modern day role models… Because life is real, and mommyhood is really real some days.

And now, a bit of sarcasm, because I like sarcasm. 🙂

The Modern Baby
“The hand that rocks the cradle” -but there is no such hand;
It is bad to rock the baby, they would have us understand;
So the cradle’s but a relic of the former foolish days
When mothers reared their children in unscientific ways-
When they jounced them and they bounced them, those poor dwarfs of long ago-
The Washingtons and Jeffersons and Adamses, you know.

They warn us that the baby will possess a muddled brain
If we dandle him or rock him- we must carefully refrain;
He must lie in one position, never swayed and never swung,
Or his chance to grow to greatness will be blasted while he’s young.
Ah! Think how they were ruined, by their mothers long ago-
The Franklins and the Putnams and the Hamiltons, you know.

Then we must feed the baby by the schedule that is made,
And the food that he is given must be measured out or weighed.
He may bellow to inform us that he isn’t satisfied,
But he couldn’t grow to greatness if his wants were all supplied.
Think how foolish nursing stunted those poor weaklings long ago-
The Shakespeares and the Luthers and the Bonapartes, you know.

We are given a great mission, we are here today on earth
To bring forth a race of giants, and to guard them from their birth,
To insist upon their freedom from the rocking that was bad
For our parents and their parents, scrambling all the brains they had.
Ah! If they’d been fed by schedule, would they have been stunted so?
The Websters and the Lincolns and the Roosevelts, you know.
-William Croswell Doane

And last but not least… Love always wins!

What are your favorites? I’d love to hear from you, maybe I can acquire some new favorites!