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Top 10 Dip Into Poetry Lines

By Will Willingham 2 Comments

Top 10 Dip Into Poetry Lines (3)

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.

(You’re not getting Every Day Poems in your inbox every morning? Shimmy on over to our subscription page and we’ll get you set up.)

 

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

cricket
pulse of dusk under
             the pixilate gold of the trees

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

And sow with salt the fields of his desire

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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Will Willingham
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Will Willingham
Director of Many Things; Senior Editor, Designer and Illustrator at Tweetspeak Poetry
I used to be a claims adjuster, helping people and insurance companies make sense of loss. Now, I train other folks with ladders and tape measures to go and do likewise. Sometimes, when I’m not scaling small buildings or crunching numbers with my bare hands, I read Keats upside down. My first novel, Adjustments, is available now.
Will Willingham
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Latest posts by Will Willingham (see all)
  • Book Club Announcement: The Reindeer Chronicles - January 11, 2021
  • Adjustments Excerpt: The Dinner Party - September 9, 2020
  • Poet Laura: Difficult to Forecast - August 26, 2020

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Filed Under: Blog, Dip into Poetry, Every Day Poems, poetry

About Will Willingham

I used to be a claims adjuster, helping people and insurance companies make sense of loss. Now, I train other folks with ladders and tape measures to go and do likewise. Sometimes, when I’m not scaling small buildings or crunching numbers with my bare hands, I read Keats upside down. My first novel, Adjustments, is available now.

Comments

  1. Maureen Doallas says

    May 21, 2015 at 12:24 pm

    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.

    Reply
    • Sandra Heska King says

      May 21, 2015 at 9:37 pm

      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.

      Reply

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