It's National Poetry Month!!

Do you celebrate, (or even know about) National Poetry Month?

Well I say you should! Poetry is good for your soul, it works the mind, it expands your range of understanding words and language.

I challenge you to read at least one poem a day for the whole of April. You may find that you'll want to continue when April is done. I also ask that you expand into Poets and styles that might be new to you.

Sometime in this month, post on a poem you like.

Here are some sites you can go to:

Poetry 180 - This is a Poem a day site with Poems selected for High School Students.

Poets.org - The Academy of American poets. This would be a good way to read a poem a day without any effort, they are posting a poem a day on their site.

Favorite Poem Project - I like this one. Founded in 1997 by then Poet Laureate Robert Pinsky, 18,000 Americans wrote in and suggested their favorite poem. From that list, 50 were selected and given the chance to read and talk about their favorite poem. It's worth looking into this site, it is rich with content.

A dear friend sent me this poem a couple of days ago and I just love it. It seemed perfect for this post. (Don't you love it when serendipity just steps in and hands you something like this?) I love the idea that Poetry is alive, it's everywhere, and just needs finding. And yes, Poetry is in the eye of the beholder.

Valentine for Ernest Mann
Naomi Shihab Nye

You can't order a poem like you order a taco.
Walk up to the counter, say, "I'll take two"
and expect it to be handed back to you
on a shiny plate.

Still, I like your spirit.
Anyone who says, "Here's my address,
write me a poem," deserves something in reply.
So I'll tell you a secret instead:
poems hide. In the bottoms of our shoes,
they are sleeping. They are the shadows
drifting across our ceilings the moment
before we wake up. What we have to do
is live in a way that lets us find them.

Once I knew a man who gave his wife
two skunks for a valentine.
He couldn't understand why she was crying.
"I thought they had such beautiful eyes."
And he was serious. He was a serious man
who lived in a serious way. Nothing was ugly
just because the world said so. He really
liked those skunks. So, he re-invented them
as valentines and they became beautiful.
At least, to him. And the poems that had been hiding
in the eyes of skunks for centuries
crawled out and curled up at his feet.

Maybe if we re-invent whatever our lives give us
we find poems. Check your garage, the odd sock
in your drawer, the person you almost like, but not quite.
And let me know.