A selection of meaningful and enjoyable poems to inspire and be enjoyed by everyone Here is an anthology of poems, chosen by Garrison Keillor for their wit, their frankness, their passion, their "utter clarity in the face of everything else a person has to deal with at 7 a.m." Good Poems includes verse organized by theme about lovers, children, failure, everyday life, death, and transcendance. It features the work of classic poets, such as Emily Dickinson, Walt Whitman, and Robert Frost, as well as the work of contemporary greats such as Howard Nemerov, Charles Bukowski, Donald Hall, Billy Collins, Robert Bly, and Sharon Olds. It's a book of poems for anybody who loves poetry whether they know it or not. "A pretty dandy candy jar. The range of poets is wide, the tone is unpretentious, and the poems are all . . . good." ( San Francisco Chronicle ) "These are poems to live in comfort with all one's life." ( Booklist ) "[Keillor is] Will Rogers with grammar lessons, Aesop with no ax to grind, the common man's MoliFre." ( The Houston Chronicle ) Garrison Keillor, author of nearly a dozen books, is founder and host of the acclaimed radio show A Prairie Home Companion and the daily program The Writer's Almanac . He is also a regular contributor to Time magazine. Poem in Thanks Thomas Lux Lord Whoever, thank you for this air I'm about to in- and exhale, this hutch in the woods, the wood for fire, the light-both lamp and the natural stuff of leaf-back, fern, and wing. For the piano, the shovel for ashes, the moth-gnawed blankets, the stone-cold water stone-cold: thank you. Thank you, Lord, coming for to carry me here-where I'll gnash it out, Lord, where I'll calm and work, Lord, thank you for the goddamn birds singing! How Many Nights Galway Kinnell How many nights have I lain in terror, O Creator Spirit, Maker of night and day, only to walk out the next morning over the frozen world hearing under the creaking of snow faint, peaceful breaths... snake, bear, earthworm, ant... and above me a wild crow crying 'yaw yaw yaw' from a branch nothing cried from ever in my life. Welcome Morning Anne Sexton There is joy in all: in the hair I brush each morning, in the Cannon towel, newly washed, that I rub my body with each morning, in the chapel of eggs I cook each morning, in the outcry from the kettle that heats my coffee each morning, in the spoon and the chair that cry "hello there, Anne" each morning, in the godhead of the table that I set my silver, plate, cup upon each morning. All this is God, right here in my pea-green house each morning and I mean, though often forget, to give thanks, to faint down by the kitchen table in a prayer of rejoicing as the holy birds at the kitchen window peck into their marriage of seeds. So while I think of it, let me paint a thank-you on my palm for this God, this laughter of the morning, lest it go unspoken. The Joy that isn't shared, I've heard, dies young. Psalm 23 from The Bay Psalm Book The Lord to me a shepherd is, want therefore shall not I: He in the folds of tender grass, doth cause me down to lie: To waters calm me gently leads restore my soul doth he: He doth in paths of righteousness for his name's sake lead me. Yea, though in valley of death's shade I walk, none ill I'll fear: Because thou art with me, thy rod, and staff my comfort are. For me a table thou hast spread, in presence of my foes: Thou dost anoint my head with oil; my cup it overflows. Goodness and mercy surely shall all my days follow me: And in the Lord's house I shall dwell so long as days shall be. At Least Raymond Carver I want to get up early one more morning, before sunrise. Before the birds, even. I want to throw cold water on my face and be at my work table when the sky lightens and smoke begins to rise from the chimneys of the other houses. I want to see the waves break on this rocky beach, not just hear them break as I did all night in my sleep. I want to see again the ships that pass through the Strait from every seafaring country in the world- old, dirty freighters just barely moving along, and the swift new cargo vessels painted every color under the sun that cut the water as they pass. I want to keep an eye out for them. And for the little boat that plies the water between the ships and the pilot station near the lighthouse. I want to see them take a man off the ship and put another up on board. I want to spend the day watching this happen and reach my own conclusions. I hate to seem greedy-I have so much to be thankful for already. But I want to get up early one more morning, at least. And go to my place with some coffee and wait. Just wait, to see what's going to happen. Address to the Lord John Berryman 1 Master of beauty, craftsman of the snowflake, inimitable contriver, endower of Earth so gorgeous & different fr