Poems of My Father — a series
My dad, who passed away in March of 2020, gave me many gifts; one of the most precious was a love of poetry.
He loved Keats and Shelley, Frost and Dickenson, Teasdale and St. Vincent Millay, Kipling and Eliot, Hopkins and Tennyson. As I grew up, he shared the poems that he loved, helped me understand them, and in time, I grew to love poetry, too.
My dad wrote poetry, and sometimes I do, too.
Here are some poems and poets he loved. Eventually, the series will include poems he wrote, poems he inspired me to write, and poems I’ve discovered on my own. For each poem, I write a few paragraphs on why the poem speaks to me and provide ideas that I think might help the poem speak to you, the reader. Sometimes, I add questions you can respond to in the comments. Enjoy.
#1 There is No Frigate Like a Book by Emily Dickinson
#2 The Writer by Richard Wilbur
#3 The First Snowfall by James Russell Lowell
#4 Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost
#5 At Grass by Philip Larkin