The Poetry Shelf |
[To Market, To Market] Directories of Literary Markets and other ways to get someone not directly related to you to read your poems. (Lots of new stuff here!)
[Toolkit] How to write--grammar guides and beyond.
[The Desert Island]You are going to a desert island and get to pack one rucksack of poetry. These books are in mine. (Come rummage occasionally; I keep getting a bigger rucksack.)
[Now Playing]These are the books I'm reading at the moment. Well, if I like them. I only review the ones I like. This shelf keeps getting longer--The most current things are at the top.
From here, you can go back to bookstore lobby to browse the other shelves. There is also a listing at the bottom of this page. Or, leave the bookstore entirely and go to my poetry page, or to our main page.
A note: Prices listed here are list prices. Amazon usually sells books at between 5% and 20% off the list price--about the only place where you'll find a discount on poetry. In any case, you will know the final price of the book before you order.
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The
2000 Poet's Market : 1,800 Places to Publish Your Poetry (Poet's Market, 2000) The International Directory of Little Magazines and Small Presses in 1998-1999 Grants and Awards Available to American Writers. John Morrone, editor |
Money For Writers: Grants, Awards, Prizes, Contests, Scholarships, Retreats, Resources, Conferences, and Internet Information. Diane Billot, editor |
The
Best of the Best American Poetry 1988-1997 |
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The Practice of Poetry : Writing Exercises from Poets Who Teach |
The
Bird by Bird : Some Instructions on Writing and Life |
The Elements of Style by William Struck and E.B. White |
The Deluxe Transitive Vampire: Grammar for the Innocent, the Eager, and the Doomed Karen Elizabeth Gordon |
The Disheveled Dictionary: A Curious Caper Through Our Sumptious Lexicon. Karen Elizabeth Gordon |
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The
Ink Dark Moon : Love Poems by Ono No Komachi and Izumi Shikibu | |
Women court poets from Henian Japan. Poetry that will take you to a different world, unique and universal. |
into empty sky? Even the fragile snow, when it falls, falls into this world. --A poem mourning Naishi (Shikibu's daughter) Lady Izumi Shikibu |
Ahead of All Parting : The Selected Poetry and Prose of Rainer Maria Rilke by
Rainer Maria Rilke | |
Rilke is an icon of modern poetry--love him or hate him, but read him. Try this translation by Stephen Mitchell, who is rapidly becoming an icon of contemporary translation. |
has grow so weary that it cannot hold anything else. It seems to him there are a thousand bars, and behind the bars, no world. from "The Panther" Ranier Maria Rilke |
In a
Time of Violence by Eavan Boland | |
Probably my favorite living poet, my favorite book of hers. Boland uses language like a sculpter's chisel, an archelogist's brush. Occasionally this is a little distancing--but normally it uncovers something incredible right inside the stone at your feet. |
as her hem scorches and the satin decoration catches fire. She is burning down. As a house might. As a candle will. She is ash and tallow. It is over. From “The Death of Reason.” -- Eavan Boland |
The
Sonnets by William Shakespeare | |
There's a reason he's on everyone's list. I promised I'd marry the first man who recited Sonnet XXIV to me--and James, bless him, did. They have that kind of power. |
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee. From Sonnet XVIII ("Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?") -- William Shakespeare |
On
Love and Barley Haiku of Basho by Basho | |
Ought to be on everyone's list. The inventor of haiku, and one of the nominate to be whisked away by the aliens to galactic center to be standins for humankind, by which we will be judged. A great original genius. |
How I longed
--Basho |
Sappho : Poems, a New Version by Sappho | |
Okay, she doesn't quite go with the two above, possibly because so little of her work survives. In my opinion, a must-read for poets, if only to see how to get effect from rhythm. |
Come here to us gentle Gaiety, Revelry, Radiance and you, Muses with lovely hair --Sappho |
Pablo
Neruda : Selected Poems/Bilingual Edition by Pablo Neruda | |
The Great Man of Latin America. He writes political poems, love songs (hot stuff!) and odes to socks. Some of the first poetry I read, and still close to my heart. If I could have a VCR on my island, I'd also bring The Postman -- probably the best movie about poetry. Neurda fits well into Italy, oddly. (Buy The Postman (English subtitles) for $17.99 US) |
keep track of blades of grass, the threads of the untidy event, and the houses, inch by inch, the long lines of the railway, the textured face of pain. from "Memory" -- Pablo Neruda |
The
Collected Poems of Wallace Stevens by Wallace Stevens | |
For years I half-remembered Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird, from some High School Anthology. Now I know why I remember it. He may be a critic's poet, but Stevens brings thoughts and images that may change the way you think, at least for a bit. You need that if you're stuck on a desert island. |
the only moving thing Was the eye of the blackbird. From "Thirteen Ways of Looking At a Blackbird" -- Wallace Stevens |
Collected
Poems by Patrick Kavanagh | |
In my opinion, Ireland's best poet, and certainly the best Irish poet writing in English in the 20th century. Better than Yeats, more authentic, angrier but also happier, less clever, by which I mean more natural with words. Also, his spiritual side appeals to me--not based, as Yeats's sometimes seems, on naive pastorals and wacky paganism. Who needs Byzantium when you've got Dublin? |
That her dark hair would weave a snare that I might one day rue; I saw the danger yet I walked along the enchanted way, And I said, let grief be a fallen leaf at the dawning of the day. On Grafton Street in November we tripped lightly along the ledge Of the deep ravine where can be seen the worth of passion's pledge, The Queen of Hearts still making tarts and I not making hay-- I loved too much and by such, by such is happiness thrown away. . . . On a quiet street where old ghosts meet I see her walking now Away from me so hurriedly my reason must allow That I had wooed not as I should a creature made of clay-- When the angel wooes the clay he'd lose his wings at the dawn of day. From "On Raglan Road" -- Patrick Kavanaugh |
Selected Poems
(20th Century Classics) by Anna Akhmatova, D. M. Thomas (Translator) | |
Even considered only as a witness to history, it would be hard to value Akhmatova too much. She was born in Russian in 1889, and unlike most well known poets and artists, never left. Her first husband was murdered as a counter-revolutionary in the twenties. She lived through the seige of her beloved St. Petersburg. In the Stalinist years, Akmatova herself was not imprisoned--but only because she was too important to touch directly. Instead, both her second husband and her son were detained for years. The great poem "Requiem" is the record of that worst moment of the century; it was too important to be written down; it survived only in the minds of the people who had memorized it, and was not printed until after the fall of the Soviet Union. Akhmatova is sometimes called "the conscience of Russia." To me, she is the heart and soul of Russia. I don't actually need to to take this book to the desert island, as I can recite huge portions of it. The Thomas translation is better than average. |
And think: she wanted storms. The rim Of the sky will be the colour of hard crimson And your heart, as it was then, will be on fire. From “You will hear thunder . . . .” -- Anna Akhmatova They took you away at daybreak. Half wak- ing, as whough at a wake, I followed. In the dark chamber children were crying, In the image-case, candlelight guttered. At your lips, the chill of an ikon, A deadly sweat at your brow. I shall go creep to our wailing wall, Crawl to the Kremlin towers. No, it is not I, it is someone else who is suffering. I could not have borne it. And this thing which has
And take away the laterns . . .
From “Requiem.” -- Anna Akhmatova |
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