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Zusatztext "A pretty dandy candy jar. The range of poets is wide! the tone is unpretentious! and the poems are all . . . good." ( San Francisco Chronicle ) "These are poems to live in comfort with all one's life." ( Booklist ) "[Keillor is] Will Rogers with grammar lessons! Aesop with no ax to grind! the common man's MoliFre." ( The Houston Chronicle ) Informationen zum Autor Selected and Edited by Garrison Keillor Klappentext America's beloved author, humorist, and storyteller offers a selection of meaningful and enjoyable poems Every day people tune in to The Writer's Almanac on public radio and hear Garrison Keillor read them a poem. And here, for the first time, is an anthology of poems from the show, chosen by Keillor for their wit, their frankness, their passion, their "utter clarity in the face of everything else a person has to deal with at 7 a.m." Good Poems includes verse about lovers, children, failure, everyday life, death, and transcendance. It features the work of classic poets, such as Emily Dickinson, Walt Whitman, and Robert Frost, as well as the work of contemporary greats such as Howard Nemerov, Charles Bukowski, Donald Hall, Billy Collins, Robert Bly, and Sharon Olds. It's a book of poems for anybody who loves poetry whether they know it or not. Poem in Thanks Thomas Lux Lord Whoever, thank you for this air I'm about to in- and exhale, this hutch in the woods, the wood for fire, the light-both lamp and the natural stuff of leaf-back, fern, and wing. For the piano, the shovel for ashes, the moth-gnawed blankets, the stone-cold water stone-cold: thank you. Thank you, Lord, coming for to carry me here-where I'll gnash it out, Lord, where I'll calm and work, Lord, thank you for the goddamn birds singing! How Many Nights Galway Kinnell How many nights have I lain in terror, O Creator Spirit, Maker of night and day, only to walk out the next morning over the frozen world hearing under the creaking of snow faint, peaceful breaths... snake, bear, earthworm, ant... and above me a wild crow crying 'yaw yaw yaw' from a branch nothing cried from ever in my life. Welcome Morning Anne Sexton There is joy in all: in the hair I brush each morning, in the Cannon towel, newly washed, that I rub my body with each morning, in the chapel of eggs I cook each morning, in the outcry from the kettle that heats my coffee each morning, in the spoon and the chair that cry "hello there, Anne" each morning, in the godhead of the table that I set my silver, plate, cup upon each morning. All this is God, right here in my pea-green house each morning and I mean, though often forget, to give thanks, to faint down by the kitchen table in a prayer of rejoicing as the holy birds at the kitchen window peck into their marriage of seeds. So while I think of it, let me paint a thank-you on my palm for this God, this laughter of the morning, lest it go unspoken. The Joy that isn't shared, I've heard, dies young. Psalm 23 from The Bay Psalm Book The Lord to me a shepherd is, want therefore shall not I: He in the folds of tender grass, doth cause me down to lie: To waters calm me gently leads restore my soul doth he: He doth in paths of righteousness for his name's sake lead me. Yea, tho...
