Ted Kooser

Dog Bite, poem by April Lindner | Ted Kooser

April Lindner is a poet living in Pennsylvania who has written a number of fine poems about parenting. Here’s an example that shows us just one of the many hazards of raising a child.

Labor Day, poem by Joseph Millar | Ted Kooser

On a perfect Labor Day, nobody would have to work, and even the “associates” in the big box stores could quit stocking shelves. Well, it doesn’t happen that way, does it? But here’s a poem about a Labor Day that’s really at rest, by Joseph Millar, from North Carolina.

Noguchi’s Fountain, poem by Helen T. Glenn | Ted Kooseer

Here’s a fine poem about the stages of grief by Helen T. Glenn, who lives in Florida.

First Night, poem by D. Nurkse | Ted Kooser

Those of us who have been fortunate enough to have been new parents will recognize the way in which everything seems to relate to a baby, who has by her arrival suddenly made the world surround her. D. Nurkse lives in Brooklyn

Grubbing | Poem by Gabriel Spera

One of the first things an aspiring writer must learn is to pay attention, to look intently at what is going on. Here’s a good example of a poem by Gabriel Spera, a Californian, that wouldn’t have been possible without close observation.

The Pull Toy, poem by A. E. Stallings | Ted Kooser

To capture an object in words is a difficult chore, but when it’s done exceptionally well, as in this poem by A. E. Stallings, I’d rather read the description than see the object itself. A. E. Stallings is an American poet living in Greece.

Afterlife – poem by Bruce Snider | Ted Kooser

Perhaps there’s a kind of afterlife that is made up of our memories of a departed person, especially as these cling to that person’s belongings. Bruce Snider, who lives and teaches in California, suggests that here.

Old Men Pitching Horseshoes | Poem by X.J. Kennedy

One of the most distinctive sounds in small-town America is the chiming of horseshoe pitching. A friend always carries a pair in the trunk of his car.

Little Girl – poem by Tami Haaland | Ted Kooser

There are many fine poems in which the poet looks deeply into a photograph and tries to touch the lives caught there. Here’s one by Tami Haaland, who lives in Montana.

Sponge Bath | Poem by Terri Kirby Erickson

Draped in towels, my grandmother sits in a hard-backed chair, a white bowl

Barn Clothes | Poem by Michael Walsh

Our sense of smell is the one sense most likely to transport us through time.

Centrifugal | Poem by Douglas S. Jones

Here’s a delightful poem by Douglas S. Jones about a bicycle rider sharing his bike with a spider. Jones lives in Michigan and spiders live just about everywhere

School | Poem by Daniel J. Langton

It’s the time of the year for school supplies, and here’s a poem by Daniel J. Langton about just one of the items you’ll need to pick up. Langton lives in San Francisco.

Breakfast for Supper | Poem by Christine Stewart-Nun?ez

One of my favorite poems is by Ruth Stone, about eating at a McDonald’s, and I have myself written a poem about a lunch at Arby’s.

Telling Time | Poem by Jo McDougall

I am very fond of poems that don’t use more words than they have to. They’re easier to carry around in your memory.

Zippo | Poem by Judith Slater

Sometimes, when we are children, someone or something suddenly throws open a window and the world of adults pours in. And we never quite get over it. Here’s a poem about an experience like that by Judith Slater, who lives in New York.

The Promise | Poem by Jane Hirshfield

Jane Hirshfield, who lives in the San Francisco Bay area, is one of our country’s finest poets, and I have never seen a poem of hers that I didn’t admire. Here’s a fine one that I see as being about our inability to control the world beyond us.

Snapshot | Poem by Linda Parsons Marion

I’d guess that many of you have looked at old snapshots taken of you by doting relatives and tried to recall what it was like to be that person in the picture who seems to be you yet is such a stranger today.

Art for Kids Camp | Pierce County Parks

I have irises that have been handed down through my family over the generations, being dug up again and again, moved to another house, another garden. Here’s a poem about that sort of inheritance, by Debra Wierenga, who lives in Michigan.

Chiller Pansies | Poem by Debra Wierenga

I have irises that have been handed down through my family over the generations, being dug up again and again, moved to another house, another garden. Here’s a poem about that sort of inheritance, by Debra Wierenga, who lives in Michigan.