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The Poetry of Everyday Life

by Compiled by Diane Croft & Joanne Becker


Format: eBraille (download)

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Available in BRF only. Note: This book is in EBAE (older) braille code, not in UEB.

More poetry:

For me, these poems are what poetry should be, poetry that is written for and can be understood by real people like me. But they are not simple and sentimental. They are plain but challenging. They are about life as it is lived and experienced by real people like me but expressed in ways that I could never come up with. I can identify with the thoughts expressed by these poets because they are part of who I am and how I live. They are about our lives.
- John in St. Louis, MO

This is a collection of 20th and 21st century poets, handpicked by JoAnn Becker and Diane Croft. These are frank poems about young passions and old love, nature and nurture, work affairs and love affairs. This is not your grandmother's poetry - see Sharon Olds's poem below. As Emily Dickinson wrote, "When I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry."

Fish Oil

One midnight, I got home from work
and the apartment reeked of fish boiled
in oil. All the windows were shut,
and all the doors were open - up
from the pan and spatula rose a thick
helix of cod and olive. My husband
slept. I opened the windows and shut
the doors and put the plates in the sink
and oodled Palmolive all over. The next
day I fishwifed to a friend, and she said,
Someone might live with that, and come to
savor the smell of a fry. And that evening,
I looked at my love, and who he is
touched me in the core of my heart. I sought
a bottle of extra-extra virgin,
and a recipe for sea fillet in
olive-branch juice, I filled the rooms with
swirls of finny perfume, the outlines
in the sand the early Christians drew,
the loop meaning safety, meaning me too,
I remembered my parents' frowns at any
whiff of savor outside the kitchen,
the Calvinist shudder, in that house, at the sweet
grease of life. I had come to my mate
a shocked being, agog, a salt
dab in his creel, girl in oil,
his dish. I had not known that one
could approve of someone entirely - one could
wake to the pungent day, one could awake
from the dream of judgment.

- Sharon Olds