We began a daily sharing over Every Day Poems on Twitter, inviting you to take a dip into poetry with us. Perhaps for you, the poem could be a pool. You could take a dip, a refreshing soak of your arms, legs, and lashes. Or maybe you’re the more hesitant type, dipping in only a toe to test the waters.
You might even be one who skips the pool and dips your pinky finger into a jar to savor the honey of a poem all morning. Or maybe one is not enough, and you order your ice cream cones with a triple dip.
However you do your dipping, we invite you to keep taking your daily dip into poetry with us, posting your favorite line from the day’s Every Day Poems, with the hashtag#dipintopoetry. Today, we’re sharing the top ten (by number of tweets and favorites) #dipintopoetry lines that were tweeted over the couple of months.
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1. Where Childhood Went by Kim Addonizio
The teeth sold to the fairies
are tombstones in the graveyard of the fireflies.
2. On Music by Rainer Maria Rilke
Time
that stands head-up in the direction
of hearts that wear out.
3. My Sentence by Dana Levin
4. Maybe This Is by Rachel Blum
The two shells at
The beginning of this pearl.
5. Maybe This Is by Rachel Blum
I draw
The dot-to-dot of loss
6. Sonnet 98 by William Shakespeare
They were but sweet, but figures of delight,
Drawn after you, you pattern of all those.
7. Mordred (excerpt: last scene) by Wilfred Campbell
8. Lies by Angela Alaimo O’Donnell
we lived and died by stories in that house
9. On Music by Rainer Maria Rilke
when the innermost point in us stands
outside
10. Spring Is Like a Perhaps Hand by e.e. cummings
Spring is like a perhaps hand
Is your favorite here? Tweet with us every morning, and don’t forget to add #dipintopoetry. We’ll be looking for your lines.
Thanks to our regular #dipintopoetry players:
@vickiaddesso, @edaypoems, @tspoetry, @monicasharman, @windowonwords, @graceappears,
@bethanyR__, @doallas, @sandraheskaking, @theimaginedjay, @brightersideblg
Photo by Neal Fowler, Creative Commons License via Flickr.
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Maureen Doallas says
The poem I found in these Top 10:
Maybe This Is Loss
We sentence lies to spring,
sow desire in the shells
of trees at dusk.
Childhood went like a pulse—
dot-to-dot, the pattern
of fireflies that wear out
in time.
We draw in salt our hearts
where the innermost point
of us lived, that pixilated
house the graveyard of all
those stories beginning
in us,
the last scene but
a sweet pearl,
its gold dust drawn after you.
Sandra Heska King says
childhood went like a pulse…
the pattern of fireflies that wear out in time…
the last scene but a sweet pearl…
I love all of this, Maureen. I’m going to try it tomorrow.