April Is National Poetry Month

Dear Readers,

In honor of National Poetry Month I have decided to deviate from my original planned posts to focus on poetry instead. Over the next several weeks I will be sharing some of my favorite poems and why they have special significance for me. I’m hoping that you will share some of your favorites in the comments and I’ll post them here as well.

In the meantime please check out the National Poetry Month Website which includes a list of 30 things you can do in honor of poetry month. Let me know if you do any of these. Some of my favorite suggestions are:

1.) Sign up for Poem-a-Day (I’ve already done this and it’s great!)

2.)Memorize a poem (good for the brain)

3.)Chalk a poem on the sidewalk (or the street for walkers in your neighborhood)

4.)Celebrate National Poem in Your Pocket Day on April 21,2016 (you’ll have to check out their website to find out how to do it!)

Please join me on this journey and let’s talk poetry!


7 thoughts on “April Is National Poetry Month

  1. My favorite poem is “The Man Without a Country.”

    Breathes there a man with soul so dead, who never to himself hath said, “this is mine own, my native land”? Whose heart hath ne’er within him burned, as home his footsteps he has turned, from wandering on a foreign strand? If such there breathes, go, mark him well. For him, no minstrel raptures swell……..etc., etc.


  2. Lay of the Last Minstrel, Canto VI,
    Sir Walter Scott

    Breathes there the man, with soul so dead,
    Who never to himself hath said,
    This is my own, my native land!
    Whose heart hath ne’er within him burn’d,
    As home his footsteps he hath turn’d
    From wandering on a foreign strand!
    If such there breathe, go, mark him well;
    For him no Minstrel raptures swell;
    High though his titles, proud his name,
    Boundless his wealth as wish can claim;—
    Despite those titles, power, and pelf,
    The wretch, concentred all in self,
    Living, shall forfeit fair renown,
    And, doubly dying, shall go down
    To the vile dust, from whence he sprung,
    Unwept, unhonour’d, and unsung.


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