Welcome to Litsy!

I wrote a blog post about #PoemsBeforePhones for work. The idea (which I started way back when, here on Litsy!) is that you read (at least) one poem each morning before reaching for your phone.

Note to self as much as others: Stop doom-scrolling through social media before you‘ve even had a goddamn cup of coffee! Who does that serve???

Here‘s a link to my post, where I recommend some of my favorite collections: https://tinyurl.com/AlyishaPoetry

I‘m trying to give poetry a shot this year, and like an idiot, I started with Whitman (I am SO lost). I‘m not sure what to read next. I‘m hoping for some shorter poems, but I just don‘t know any good, entry level poets. I‘m considering A. A. Milne, ee Cummings was suggested to me, as was Margaret Atwood, Maya Angelou, and Billy Collins. I figured Litsy would get some good discussion going. Any help would be greatly appreciated. #poetry #help

Recommitting to poetry this year. Last year, I almost had it. I went about six months, reading poems in the morning before ever reaching for technology (#poemsbeforephones). It was a beautiful way to start the day. Then, I started my MLIS program & began sleeping with my textbook on my nightstand, instead. *Significantly* less beautiful. 🙈

Cont‘d 👇🏻

Was super excited to read this for #poemsbeforephones. I got it from the Salvos at Toronto for the bargain price of 50 cents (I think a poetry lover may have died because there was a lot of old volumes of poetry in a crate by themselves) & right about now I‘m glad I only paid that much. I will persevere hoping I connect with it soon. At the moment it just feels like he is pulling my leg. There are some outstanding lines every now and again though.

Starting From Paumanok

See, steamers steaming through my poems,
See, in my poems immigrants continually coming and landing,
See, in arriere, the wigwam, the trail, the hunter‘s hut, the flatboat, the maize-leaf, the claim, the rude fence, and the backwoods village...

1860
#poemsbeforephones

#poemsbeforephones this morning @monalyisha

On the Road
by Anna Akhmatova
Translated from the Russian by Jane Kenyon

Though this land is not my own
I will never forget it,
or the waters of its ocean,
fresh and delicately icy.

Sand on the bottom is whiter than chalk,
and the air, drunk like wine.
Late sun lays bare
the rosy limbs of the pine trees.

#poemsbeforephones

Drawing from the Past

Only Mama and I were at home.
We ate tomato sandwiches
with sweeps of mayonnaise
on indifferent white bread.

#poemsbeforephones