By Nadja Maril

April is the month for poetry, and in the part of the United States where I live, I’m fortunate to have a hiking trail where years ago small signs were posted with quotes from poetry. What a delight, to only hear the sounds of my shoes crunching into the dirt and the twitter of birds and insects, blue sky overhead, surrounded by green. I pause and read the poem painted on a wooden sign. If I am with a friend, I read it to them aloud. If I am alone, I still read it out loud to myself, because poetry is meant to be heard.

National Poetry Month was established in 1996 by the Academy of American Poets. According to the Academy, it is the largest literary celebration in the world. Listening to a poet read their own work is a treat. Click on the previous link to see and hear Joy Harjo read one of her exquisite poems.

One of the earliest poets I was introduced to in school was William Shakespeare. Today, due to the evolution of the English language, his works are not as frequently read. Some of the words and phrasing may seem “odd” to your modern ear, but listen to the phrasing and the selection of vowel sounds and consonants. Read him aloud and his work may start to grow on you.

Discovering new poets and rediscovering forgotten favorites, is part of the fun of National Poetry Month.

Writer and Artist Morgan Golladay, a founding member of the Old Scratch Poetry and Short Form Collective, created this beautiful piece of artwork featuring a flower found in many spring gardens, Impatiens.

Sonnet 98: From You Have I Been Absent in the Spring


From you have I been absent in the spring,

When proud-pied April, dressed in all his trim,

Hath put a spirit of youth in everything,

That heavy Saturn laughed and leaped with him.

Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell

Of different flowers in odour and in hue,

Could make me any summer’s story tell,

Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew:

Nor did I wonder at the lily’s white,

Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose;

They were but sweet, but figures of delight

Drawn after you, – you pattern of all those.

    Yet seem’d it winter still, and, you away,

    As with your shadow I with these did play.

IF you have a favorite poet or poem you’d like to share, let us know. Follow us on WordPress, Facebook, and Twitter.

Thank you for reading.


Submissions are open. Click the image above, or go to the DPP SUBMISSIONS page.

We make a pretty nice-looking book….


When I was in college, and studying poetry, and writing a lot of my own poetry, I was lucky, because poetry was brought to me, weekly, a curated sampling of the best of the 1900s, brought to me by my teachers and fellow students.

Then I finally graduated that last time… and, for a bit, I sought it out on my own, but then trying to find poetry to discover became something I just didn’t have time for.

One of the most lovely perks of this enterprise is the poems. People just send them to me, their lovely moving poems.

I’ll direct you today to take a look at one of my favorite poets I have been surprised and lucky to encounter through DPP: Buffy Aakaash. Buffy’s poems satisfy my poetry cravings in exactly the correctly poignant way, for lack of a better description.

There’s a few to choose from here.

My Heart Now


Grief Moves Slow

And all are accompanied by Buffy’s rich voice reading them to you, so that you can hear the music of the poem in the same way that Buffy does.

If anyone’s making any money of off poetry, I don’t know who it is. But shouldn’t they be?

Thanks for these, Buffy.

OH! And Buffy is also going to be appearing in the Solstice anthology… coming soon, very soon.

In the meantime, you can also check out the prior version of Solstice, and give the ultimate lucky break to a writer, having the work read.

What makes you lucky?