The Writer's Almanac with Garrison KeillorThe Writ

The Writer's Almanac with Garrison KeillorThe Writ

United States

A poem each day, plus literary and historical notes from this day in history

Episodes

Breaking Up Is Hard To Do by Tony Hoagland | Thursday, March 23, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor  

On Friday afternoon David said he was divesting his holdings                      in Stephanie dot org. And Cindy announced she was getting rid of all her Dan-obelia,                 and did anyone want a tennis racket or a cardigan? Alice told Michael that she was transplanting herself                         to another brand of potting soil And Jason composed a 3-chord blues... Read more »

VII. by Wendell Berry | Wednesday, March 22, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor  

What a wonder I was when I was young, as I learn by the stern privilege of being old: how regardlessly I stepped the rough pathways of the hillside woods, treaded hardly thinking the tumbled stairways of the steep streams, and worked unaching hard days thoughtful only of the work, the passing light, the heat,... Read more »

The Order of the Day by Billy Collins | Tuesday, March 21, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor  

A morning after a week of rain and the sun shot down through the branches into the tall, bare windows. The brindled cat rolled over on his back, and I could hear you in the kitchen grinding coffee beans into a powder. Everything seemed especially vivid because I knew we were all going to die,... Read more »

Room Service English Muffins by Kim Dower | Monday, March 20, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor  

If you’ve ever had one you know what I’m saying: soggy with steam, too much butter soaking into the crevices. At first you’re mad—you told them butter on the side— but then you’re grateful to have it. Day after day you eat it dry, now away, alone on business in your overheated hotel room, you’re... Read more »

Susanna by Anne Porter | Sunday, March 19, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor  

Nobody in the hospital Could tell the age Of the old woman who Was called Susanna I knew she spoke some English And that she was an immigrant Out of a little country Trampled by armies Because she had no visitors I would stop by to see her But she was always sleeping All I... Read more »

Girdle by Connie Wanek | Saturday, March 18, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor  

In our teens we all bought girdles with rubber knobs to hold up our stockings. We wiggled into them, our “foundations.” So many things look absurd from a distance that people still take seriously, like whether there’s a Heaven for pets. What ever happened to my girdle? One day I peeled it off for the... Read more »

Field Poem by Gary Soto | Friday, March 17, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor  

When the foreman whistled My brother and I Shouldered our hoes, Leaving the field. We returned to the bus Speaking In broken English, in broken Spanish The restaurant food, The tickets to a dance We wouldn’t buy with our pay. From the smashed bus window, I saw the leaves of cotton plants Like small hands... Read more »

For Frances by Ogden Nash | Thursday, March 16, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor  

Geniuses of countless nations Have told their love for generations Till all their memorable phrases Are common as goldenrod or daisies. Their girls have glimmered like the moon, Or shimmered like a summer noon, Stood like lily, fled like fawn, Now like sunset, now like dawn, Here the princess in the tower, There the sweet... Read more »

Home by William Stafford | Wednesday, March 15, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor  

Our father owned a star, and by its light we lived in father’s house and slept at night. The tragedy of life, like death and war, were faces looking in at our front door. But finally all came in, from near and far: you can’t believe in locks and own a star.

Hamburger Heaven by Ronald Wallace | Tuesday, March 14, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor  

Tonight we find them again, parked under the stars (no one ever eats inside in Heaven), beeping the tired carhop with her pageboy and mascara for a paper boat of French fries drenched in sauce, a smashed hamburger baptized with spices. They’re sixteen and in love; the night is hot, sweet and tangy on their... Read more »

The Presence by Maxine Kumin | Monday, March 13, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor  

Something went crabwise across the snow this morning. Something went hard and slow over our hayfield. It could have been a raccoon lugging a knapsack, it could have been a porcupine carrying a tennis racket, it could have been something supple as a red fox dragging the squawk and spatter of a crippled woodcock. Ten... Read more »

First House by Connie Wanek | Sunday, March 12, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor  

We bought a house made of mud and straw. Thieves stole my sewing machine and my turquoise ring. They stole your music, and the needle you lowered with one steady finger. To lose these things. I learned. We had a little girl and I never let her out of my arms. Summer nights we sat... Read more »

Things to Think by Robert Bly | Saturday, March 11, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor  

Think in ways you’ve never thought before. If the phone rings, think of it as carrying a message Larger than anything you’ve ever heard, Vaster than a hundred lines of Yeats. Think that someone may bring a bear to your door, Maybe wounded and deranged; or think that a moose Has risen out of the... Read more »

Revival by Luci Shaw | Friday, March 10, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor  

March. I am beginning to anticipate a thaw. Early mornings the earth, old unbeliever, is still crusted with frost where the moles have nosed up their cold castings, and the ground cover in shadow under the cedars hasn’t softened for months, fogs layering their slow, complicated ice around foliage and stem night by night, but... Read more »

Field Guide by Tony Hoagland | Thursday, March 09, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor  

Once, in the cool blue middle of a lake, up to my neck in that most precious dement of all, I found a pale-gray, curled-upwards pigeon feather floating on the tension of the water at the very instant when a dragonfly, like a blue-green iridescent bobby pin, hovered over it, then lit, and rested. That’s... Read more »

Weather by Faith Shearin | Wednesday, March 08, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor  

There is weather on the day you are born and weather on the day you die. There is the year of drought, and the year of floods, when everything rises and swells, the year when winter will not stop falling, and the year when summer lightning burns the prairie, makes it disappear. There are the... Read more »

A World of Singers by Ralph Stevens | Tuesday, March 07, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor  

We live in a world of singers and the song is loud or soft, sweet or shrill, sometimes silent. But listen. With a storm approaching someone shelters a robin’s nest. Another whistles to a black dog on the beach. One laughs to herself, reading alone in the kitchen. In the woodlot someone grunts as he... Read more »

Winter, Spring by Jim Harrison | Monday, March 06, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor  

Winter is black and beige down here from drought. Suddenly in March there’s a good rain and in a coup1e of weeks we are enveloped in green. Green everywhere in the mesquites, oaks, cottonwoods, the bowers of thick willow bushes the warblers love for reasons of food or the branches, the tiny aphids they cat... Read more »

Anxiety by Jen Ashburn | Sunday, March 05, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor  

My brother calls, which causes me anxiety, partly because I don’t like phone ca1ls, but mostly because he grumbles about how he can’t find a job, how his truck won’t start, how his wife’s car needs a new transmission. About how his wife is a bitch, and I want to say, Don’t talk like that.... Read more »

To David, About His Education by Howard Nemerov | Saturday, March 04, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor  

The world is full of mostly invisible things, And there is no way but putting the mind’s eye, Or its nose, in a book, to find them out, Things like the square root of Everest Or how many times Byron goes into Texas, Or whether the law of the excluded middle Applies west of the... Read more »

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