The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor

The Writer's Almanac with Garrison KeillorThe Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor

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A poem each day, plus literary and historical notes from this day in historyMore from The Writer's Almanac with Garrison KeillorThe Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor »

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116 by William Shakespeare | Sunday, February 26, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor

Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove. O no, it is an ever-fixèd mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wand'ring bark, Whose worth's unknown, although... Read more »

116 by William Shakespeare | Sunday, February 26, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor

Funny Books by Robert Morgan | Saturday, February 25, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Gar...

Because my parents had denied me comic books as sordid and salacious, I would sneak a look at those of friends, the bold and bright slick covers, pages rough as news and inked in pinks and greens and blues as cowboys shouted in balloons and Indian yells were printed on the clouds. I borrowed books... Read more »

Funny Books by Robert Morgan | Saturday, February 25, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Gar...

Sweater by Jane Hirshfield | Friday, February 24, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor

What is asked of one is not what is asked of another. A sweater takes on the shape of its wearer, a coffee cup sits to the left or the right of the workspace, making its pale Saturn rings of now and before. Lucky the one who rises to sit at a table, day after... Read more »

Sweater by Jane Hirshfield | Friday, February 24, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor

Lucky by Kirsten Dierking | Thursday, February 23, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor

All this time, the life you were supposed to live has been rising around you like the walls of a house designed with warm harmonious lines. As if you had actually planned it that way. As if you had stacked up bricks at random, and built by mistake a lucky star.

Lucky by Kirsten Dierking | Thursday, February 23, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor

Recuerdo by Edna St. Vincent Millay | Wednesday, February 22, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac ...

We were very tired, we were very merry— We had gone back and forth all night on the ferry. It was bare and bright, and smelled like a stable— But we looked into a fire, we leaned across a table, We lay on a hill-top underneath the moon; And the whistles kept blowing, and the... Read more »

Recuerdo by Edna St. Vincent Millay | Wednesday, February 22, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac ...

VIII – from "Twelve Songs" by W. H. Auden | Tuesday, February 21, 2017 | The Writer's Alma...

At last the secret is out, as it always must come in the end, The delicious story is ripe to tell to the intimate friend; Over the tea-cups and in the square the tongue has its desire; Still waters run deep, my dear, there's never smoke without fire. Behind the corpse in the reservoir, behind... Read more »

VIII – from "Twelve Songs" by W. H. Auden | Tuesday, February 21, 2017 | The Writer's Alma...

When I Am Old by Moyra Donaldson | Monday, February 20, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with G...

I'll have dewlaps and a hump and say what all the time in a cross voice: on every one of my bony crony fingers a ring. My lips painted with a slash of bright fuchsia, I'll drink margaritas by the tumbler full and if my dealer dies before I do, I'll just have to look... Read more »

When I Am Old by Moyra Donaldson | Monday, February 20, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with G...

A Wake by Malena Morling | Sunday, February 19, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor

I called Michael and he told me he just got home from a wake. "Oh, I am sorry," I said. "No, no," he said, "it was the best wake I have ever been to. The funeral home was as warm and as cozy as anyone's living room. We had the greatest time. My friend looked... Read more »

A Wake by Malena Morling | Sunday, February 19, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor

The Idea of Living by Joyce Sutphen | Saturday, February 18, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac w...

It has its attractions, chiefly visual: all those shapes and lines, hunks of color and light (the way the gold light falls across the lawn in early summer, the iridescent blue floating on the lake at sunset), and being alive seems to be a necessity if you want to sit in the sun or rub... Read more »

The Idea of Living by Joyce Sutphen | Saturday, February 18, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac w...

My Father Was a Young Man Then by Maria Mazziotti Gillan | Friday, February 17, 2017 | The...

Only 16, when he came from Italy alone, moved into the Riverside neighborhood full of Italians from Cilento—all of whom spoke the same dialect, so it was as though they had transported those mountain villages to Paterson. At first, America was terrifying, English, a language they could not master, but my father was a young... Read more »

My Father Was a Young Man Then by Maria Mazziotti Gillan | Friday, February 17, 2017 | The...

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