photo by Ginette Talley
Hello, Poetry Friend
Back in 2018, L.L. Barkat invited me to write a column at Tweetspeak Poetry called By Heart, on memorizing poetry. Of course, that meant I had to actually, you know, start memorizing poetry. I no longer write the column, but I have continued the practice, which I share here as My Little Poem. The practice has deepened my relationship with poetry, provided “a pacemaker,” as Barry Sanders calls poetry memorization. One that continually resets me.
Recently at Rabbit Room Poetry, Abram Van Engen wrote a piece titled “Christ’s Last Words Were a Poem,” about Jesus turning to poetry — Psalm 22 — from the Cross. Van Engen writes:
“Poems run deep. They travel with us through our many ages and stages. They show up in odd places and come back in odd moments.”
That is what has happened with letting these poems become, as Van Engen says, “grooved so deep that the heart beats the echoes of each verse.” A line from W.S. Merwin’s “The Morning” comes to me before a stressful meeting with a friend, and I pull out my audio file and recite the whole poem again. Because I know these are the words I need in this moment, said better than I ever could have but as true as if they were pulled from the depths of my own heart.
That’s why I give over five minutes of my writing day to memorizing poems. Seriously, poetry friend, that’s my whole process. Each writing day I spend five minutes with the poem I am learning by heart. Sooner or later, the poems stick.
How many, you ask?
74, and counting.
Ulysses, by Alfred Lord Tennyson: L.L.’s request.
Peace, by Sara Teasdale: Needed something brief I could learn on vacation, and I knew Teasdale was a Tweetspeak favorite. It’s become associated with the stages of that trip: Texas, New Mexico, Colorado.
Let Evening Come, by Jane Kenyon: I used it at an in-person workshop and people were astounded at how beautiful it was.
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, by Robert Frost: I had the picture book, and it was December.
Delight in Disorder, by Robert Herrick: L.L.’s request for a Renaissance theme. Later learned Herrick’s kind of a big deal.
I Started Early – Took my Dog, by Emily Dickinson: Looking for a more accessible Dickinson. This one also had a fun video link.
I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud, by William Wordsworth: This one is in The Joy of Poetry, where I kind of made fun of it, so of course I needed to learn it.
The Lake Isle of Innisfree, by William Butler Yeats: L.L.’s request when she and her daughters memorized this one together.
Annabel Lee, by Edgar Allan Poe: There’s a Tweetspeak coloring page for this one.
The Star, by June Taylor and Ann Taylor: Wanted to do a children’s poem for summer and was surprised to learn “Twinkle, Twinkle” had other verses.
Kindness, by Naomi Shihab Nye: Heard her at On Being and fell in love. Heard her in person this January and fell in love all over again.
Barter, Sara Teasdale: L.L.’s request for a Tweetspeak retreat.
Evening Sun, by Jane Kenyon: Heard this one on a podcast and was so astounded I had to learn it. Did not do a By Heart on it, but referenced it later in a Teasdale vs. Kenyon post.
This Is Just To Say, by William Carlos Williams: Wanted a short one and it was either this or “The Red Wheelbarrow.” This one gets satirized a lot, so I thought that might be fun.
South of the Cap Rock, by Carlos Ashley: Was given a book of his poetry after the first Cowboy Poetry Gathering in Fredericksburg. It sounds like something my dad would like. I intended to read it at his funeral, but when everything got moved outside with the pandemic, I chickened out. It is one of my greatest regrets.
Come, Night, by William Shakespeare: Also referenced in The Joy of Poetry.
The Darkling Thrush, by Thomas Hardy: I’ve always loved this one. Also a Tweetspeak coloring page, and it’s been on many a poetry podcast so I get reminded of it every so often.
A Christmas Carol, by G.K. Chesterton: The ending lines get me every time.
Snow-flakes, by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow: Because January. Also because of the line “this is the poem of the air.”
Dippold the Optician, by Edgar Lee Masters: Read Spoon River Anthology and wanted to do one of the poems from it. Loved the playfulness. One of the most challenging poems I’ve learned.
The Tyger, by William Blake: Another Tweetspeak coloring page. Easy to learn after ol’ Dippold.
For One Who Is Exhausted, A Blessing, by John O’Donohue: Spent the summer with his collection and wanted to do a poem from it. This is one I return to often.
Song of Summer, by Margaret Wise Brown: A summer poem for children that moves through the warm months of the calendar.
I Have Wrapped My Dreams in a Silken Cloth, by Countee Cullen: He is one of Tweetspeak’s Take Your Poet to Work Day poets.
Wait Till the Moon Is Full, by Margaret Wise Brown: The entire poem is one picture book.
The Dandelion, by Vachel Lindsay: Needed a Lindsay to go with Sara Teasdales, since they were a couple.
To Autumn, by John Keats: I don’t particularly like Keats, but he is significant. This one was a compromise. The last stanza certainly fit my experience in the Texas Hill Country that September.
Some One, by Walter de la Mare: For Halloween. Also in The Joy of Poetry.
A Noiseless Patient Spider, by Walt Whitman: Needed a Whitman and liked this better than most of his. Also a Tweetspeak coloring page.
Everything Is Going to Be All Right, by Derek Mahon: Google told me this became the poem of the pandemic.
As I Walked Out One Evening, by W.H. Auden: I’d wanted to do this one for a while because it’s so much fun to say aloud.
blessing the boats, by Lucille Clifton: My Tweetspeak interview with poet Ashley Jones reminded me I needed a Clifton, who I almost always like.
One Art, by Elizabeth Bishop: Heard this one on a podcast and loved that it was both a villanelle and funny.
Choices, by Tess Gallagher: Not sure where I first found this one, but it’s beautifully illustrated in Poems to See By.
Motherload, by Kate Baer: Instagram+ poet. For Mother’s Day.
From Blossoms, by Li-Young Lee: Perfect for peach season, which is big where I live.
What Men Die for Lack Of, by Abigail Carroll: A friend gifted me her collection Habitation of Wonder. Thought it would be fun to learn a poem comprised of the lines of other famous poems.
Somewhere or Other, by Christina Rossetti: Also illustrated in Poems to See By.
Sea Poppies, H.D.: L.L.’s request for an H.D. This short one has been one of the hardest to make mentally stick, even though I oriented it around North, South, East, and West, with hand motions.
The Good Life, by Tracy K. Smith: Read Life on Mars, but already knew the poem.
Gethsemane, by Mary Oliver: My very favorite Mary Oliver poem. I recite it every Holy Thursday.
The Night Is Darkening ‘Round Me, by Emily Bronte: A poem that keeps finding me.
The Snow Man, by Wallace Stevens: Probably the only Stevens poem I’d consider tackling. Also a great Tweetspeak coloring page.
Wintering, by Sylvia Plath: Probably the only Plath poem I’d consider tackling. It’s the backbone of Katherine May’s Wintering book, which I loved and led a book club on at Tweetspeak. I later used the poem as a model for my “Psalm 89” in Love & other Mysteries.
I so liked Spring, by Charlotte Mew: Great for longing and loss in the midst of the beauty of spring.
Dust of Snow, by Robert Frost: Broke my don’t-repeat rule to coincide with release of Rainbow Crow.
Mother to Son, by Langston Hughes: Wanted a Hughes poem, and it was May. Also found a great YouTube of Viola Davis reading the poem.
Peter and the Wolf, by A.E. Stallings: I’ve always loved Peter and the Wolf, and I loved this poem more when I realized it’s written in tercets.
California Hills in August, by Dana Gioia: The perfect summer/drought poem. , He let me use one of his poems for free in The Joy of Poetry, so I will always love him.
The Secret, by Denise Levertov: Too funny and breaks through the pretentious reputation of poetry.
Renascence, by Edna St. Vincent Millay: Not my favorite Millay poem, but a friend told me she had to memorize the beginning in school, so I thought that might be a good way in.
[Here ends the By Heart column and begins My Little Poem]
The Morning, by W.S. Merwin: It says what I can’t say better than I could ever attempt to say it.
The Mother of God, by William Butler Yeats: A friend sent me a link to this poem paired with an icon, and I wanted a Mary poem for December. Broke my no-repeat rule again.
january 29, by Ted Kooser: Love, love, love Winter Morning Walks, and this is my birthday poem. Plus, birds! Plus, singing! I got to read/record this one for International Poetry Forum’s The Greatest Line of All Time.
Carpe Diem, by Jim Harrison: After doing Kooser, I had to do Harrison because Winter Morning Walks was written to him. All I had to do was Google “Jim Harrison poem convertible” and it came right up.
The Lanyard, by Billy Collins: Wanted a Billy Collins one, and this is perfect for Mother’s Day. My only regret is now I can say it without laughing.
Perhaps the World Ends Here, by Joy Harjo: Poet laureate. Awesome human.
Pied Beauty, by Gerard Manley Hopkins. It’s in The Joy of Poetry. Hopkins isn’t easy, but he pays off.
Sea-Fever, by John Masefield. This one’s come up on several poetry podcasts through the years, and I love the way it sounds. It’s completely antithetical to my personality.
[Dank fens of cedar], by Frederick Goddard Tuckerman. I’d saved this one years ago to memorize when it was printed in a magazine. Part of it is engraved in stone at Laity Lodge.
She Walks in Beauty, by Lord Byron. The first lime simply asserted itself one day, and on looking it up, decided it reminds me of Kristin Lavransdatter, my muse.
[Remembering that it happened once], by Wendell Berry. I found this the previous December and saved it to memorize this December. Plus, cattle!
how to listen #10, by Jacqueline Woodson. Because Callie Feyen and I wrote about Caldecotts and we both adore Brown Girl Dreaming.
Entrance, by Rilke (trans. Gioia). Because I needed a Rilke, and it perfectly described my feelings about my poetry collection, then under construction.
Singing Bowl, by Malcolm Guite. One friend said it was the only poem she’d memorized. Another went to hear him speak at Baylor. I turned it into a singing warmup. (Stay tuned for a demonstration right here, next week!)
Love Sonnet #21, Dave Malone. Love poems are fun, and form poems are always easier to learn, and this one breaks sonnet rules (very Dave Malone!) while keeping the spirit of them.
from Charlotte’s Web, by E.B. White. This is prose, rendered as a poem, because this particular paragraph from Charlotte’s Web always struck me as sounding like a poem.
The Moon, by Robert Bly. The first line hooked me. Plus I love moon poems.
Of Bracken and Other Natural Fractals as an Image of the Unfurling Soul, by Paul J. Pastor. That’s what you get, sir, for posting such a lovely and thought-provoking poem on your Substack.
maggie and milly and molly and may, by e.e. cummings. Found this on The Slowdown, and it was introduced by composer Eric Whitacre. The perfect cummings, going into our beach trip.
Ode 1.11, by Horace, translated by Burton Raffel. I’d been saving this one for a while because of its complicated relationship with hope.
untitled Big Bend poem, by Naomi Shihab Nye. Because she was coming to town for the book festival, and I’ve been saving this poem in a favorites stack for eight years.
Love (III), by George Herbert. Karen Swallow Prior did a series of posts on Herbert’s poetry, and this one poem says everything I wish my Love & other Mysteries poems did, half so well.
With Astonishing Tenderness, by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer. This is not the Rosemerry poem I intended to memorize, but it’s the one that wanted me to learn it by heart.
God’s World, by Edna St. Vincent Millay. Also engraved at Laity Lodge. Currently under mental construction.
Happy poeming!
Megan
What a great practice!
Inspiring!