Where am I getting all these quotes?

If you don't have the patience to Google all of these, here are the poems I have quoted from in my posts so far, as well as some Catullus and others I have mentioned.

"Poetry" is the source of my blog title and heading both, and it really captures how I feel about poetry ("there I was without a face, and it touched me"). If I start on Neruda, we'll be here all day, but check out the very sensual Sonnet XI, the complex love of Sonnet XVII, and the contrast between the achey "Keeping Quiet" and the wrenching "I Explain a Few Things." And if you can read him in Spanish, do it!

"The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" is in my top five favorite poems, and it resonates with my feelings of uncertainty and inaction so deeply. 

"If" by ee cummings

(Check out two love poems from him that I adore, too--"i like my body when it is with your" and the incredibly romantic "somewhere i have never travelled.")

This one's so empowering: "You, If No One Else."

I love, love, love Siken, and if you love me, you will buy me his anthology Crush (not really--it'll probably be my birthday present this year). I quoted "Driving, Not Washing" (you probably can't open that link at school, but I promise it's not dodgy, and it has some of his other poems, too).

"Shoulders" is the sweetest poem ever, touching a chord of universal empathy. Naomi Shihab Nye is lovely in general.

"Termites: An Assay" is very different, short and punchy, but contemplative rather than provocative. I'm definitely not biased because I've got (MERS Coronavirus) assays on the brain.

Seamus Heaney is awesome--you may remember him from Beowulf. "Blackberry-Picking" is vivid and grounding in an ephemeral moment.

"Those Winter Sundays" made me cry. Something to remember around Father's Day.

"The Fish" reminds me of my own more immature style, interestingly. Not to say that Elizabeth Bishop is immature in any sense. It's a cleverly-executed poem with plenty of buildup. It's just the accumulation of detail that I feel is similar. The difference? Her closing sticks with you.

"Howl." Oh boy. Ginsberg. You beautiful mess.

To be edited with next week's! And hey, if no one looks at this (likely), it is at least a useful personal reference. I get broken-up bits of poems stuck in my head sometimes, so it's nice to have a list of likely culprits.