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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Gratitude List by Laura Foley | Sunday, July 31, 2016 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor

Praise be this morning for sleeping late, the sandy sheets, the ocean air, the midnight storm that blew its waters in. Praise be the morning swim, mid-tide, the clear sands underneath our feet, the dogs who leap into the waves, their fur, sticky with salt, the ball we throw again and again. Praise be the... Read more »

Gratitude List by Laura Foley | Sunday, July 31, 2016 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor

Tree Poem by Paul Hostovsky | Saturday, July 30, 2016 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor

It wasn't that he wanted to take his life. He wanted to take his death into his own hands. There was a difference, he knew, though he couldn't articulate it. More speculative than suicidal, more curious than depressed, more interested than not, he didn't want to talk to a therapist. He wanted to talk to... Read more »

Tree Poem by Paul Hostovsky | Saturday, July 30, 2016 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor

On Turning Thirty by Jen Levitt | Friday, July 29, 2016 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor

No one microwaves leftovers, we order in. I haven't prayed since 1996. In temple the cantor was always tuning her guitar & the metal folding chairs squeaked. Is hypnosis dead? I feel about as sexual as a frying pan. At this age Sylvia had sheaves of poems, two kids &— my aura drips like a... Read more »

On Turning Thirty by Jen Levitt | Friday, July 29, 2016 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor

How It Begins by Mary Oliver | Thursday, July 28, 2016 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor

The text of today's poem is not available online.

How It Begins by Mary Oliver | Thursday, July 28, 2016 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor

The Last Rose of Summer by Thomas Moore | Wednesday, July 27, 2016 | The Writer's Almanac ...

Tis the last rose of summer Left blooming alone; All her lovely companions Are faded and gone: No flower of her kindred, No rose-bud is nigh, To reflect back her blushes, Or give sigh for sigh. I'll not leave thee, thou lone one! To pine on the stem; Since the lovely are sleeping, Go, sleep... Read more »

The Last Rose of Summer by Thomas Moore | Wednesday, July 27, 2016 | The Writer's Almanac ...

Bridge by Jim Harrison | Tuesday, July 26, 2016 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor

Most of my life was spent building a bridge out over the sea though the sea was too wide. I'm proud of the bridge hanging in the pure sea air. Machado came for a visit and we sat on the end of the bridge, which was his idea. Now that I'm old the work goes... Read more »

Bridge by Jim Harrison | Tuesday, July 26, 2016 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor

To the Virgins to Make Much of Time by Robert Herrick | Monday, July 25, 2016 | The Writer...

Gather ye rose-buds while ye may, Old Time is still a-flying: And this same flower that smiles today, Tomorrow will be dying. The glorious lamp of heaven, the Sun, The higher he's a-getting The sooner will his race be run, And nearer he's to setting. That age is best which is the first, When youth... Read more »

To the Virgins to Make Much of Time by Robert Herrick | Monday, July 25, 2016 | The Writer...

The Chairs That No One Sits In by Billy Collins | Sunday, July 24, 2016 | The Writer's Alm...

You see them on porches and on lawns down by the lakeside, usually arranged in pairs implying a couple who might sit there and look out at the water or the big shade trees. The trouble is you never see anyone sitting in these forlorn chairs though at one time it must have seemed a... Read more »

The Chairs That No One Sits In by Billy Collins | Sunday, July 24, 2016 | The Writer's Alm...

Elegy by Ron Koertge | Saturday, July 23, 2016 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor

Poets can't wait to bury their fathers so they can write about it. Mine wanted no part of that. "I'll bury myself, thank you." I thought he meant later, but that afternoon he left a note: I'm dead. I dialed his cell. The reception was bad at that speed but he heard me ask, "What... Read more »

Elegy by Ron Koertge | Saturday, July 23, 2016 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor

How to Take a Walk by Leo Dangel | Friday, July 22, 2016 | The Writer's Almanac with Garri...

This is farming country. The neighbors will believe you are crazy if you take a walk just to think and be alone. So carry a shotgun and walk the fence line. Pretend you are hunting and your walking will not arouse suspicion. But don't forget to load the shotgun. They will know if your gun... Read more »

How to Take a Walk by Leo Dangel | Friday, July 22, 2016 | The Writer's Almanac with Garri...

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