Today is National Poem In Your Pocket Day 2012!
How does it work? Simply find a poem you like (or write one), jot it down or copy it. Fold it up and stick it in your pocket (or purse, or diaper bag...). Carry it around all day and find opportunities to share it with people you meet! Spread the poetry love!To celebrate, I'm hosting a poetry linky on my other blog A Year With Mom and Dad! Create a simple post that shares a favorite poem (that you read or wrote!), and then link up.
**Please be careful when you republish a poem on your blog that it is in the public domain to avoid copyright issues.
Here's one of my favorite poems, as a writer, because I understand how it feels to have something you wrote feel like a child you want to see succeed in the world!
The Author to Her Book
by Anne Bradstreet
Thou ill-formed offspring of my feeble brain,
Who after birth didst by my side remain,
Till snatched from thence by friends, less wise than true,
Who thee abroad, exposed to public view,
Made thee in rags, halting to th' press to trudge,
Where errors were not lessened (all may judge).
At thy return my blushing was not small,
My rambling brat (in print) should mother call,
I cast thee by as one unfit for light,
The visage was so irksome in my sight;
Yet being mine own, at length affection would
Thy blemishes amend, if so I could.
I washed thy face, but more defects I saw,
And rubbing off a spot still made a flaw.
I stretched thy joints to make thee even feet,
Yet still thou run'st more hobbling than is meet;
In better dress to trim thee was my mind,
But nought save homespun cloth i' th' house I find.
In this array 'mongst vulgars may'st thou roam.
In critic's hands beware thou dost not come,
And take thy way where yet thou art not known;
If for thy father asked, say thou hadst none;
And for thy mother, she alas is poor,
Which caused her thus to send thee out of door.
What's your favorite poem?
