The first National Poetry Month was held in 1996.
“Poetry lifts the veil from the hidden beauty of the world, and makes familiar objects be as if they were not familiar.” — Percy Bysshe Shelley, from A Defence of Poetry and Other Essays.
© I’m Just A Philanthropist with An Old Soul
or
Every Day Is A New Day with You
Mimi Wolske
All Rights Reserved
You can’t go back
again
And expect everything
to be the same—
You stole more than trinkets.
Still, I replay you and me;
It’s a loop of happy
reveries.
Spring again and I’m
shedding
All the unneeded parts
of my
protective coat
without a second thought.
Now, with the dust
jacket removed,
all I see is our
story,
Not the actors in it.
Just as a room full
of students
Sharpening their
pencils,
Or Mom frying bacon
early in the morning,
You are one of my
favorite smells...
Burned on my memory
until the end.
(painting: Quentin Massys, Netherlandish, Ill-Matched Lovers, c. 1520-1525)
