I made a list of poems that came to mind immediately, then whittled away what I could bear to. It was tough to say the least. Still impossible to get it to five. I found I lean toward the long poem, but love the very short, poignant poem, as well. Traditional forms and breaks from that and everything earnest in between also filled my list.
Here’s my final five, and by that I mean ten. I’m sorry. My mother always dressed my older sister and me like twins when we were growing up, so maybe I get a pass for two people here. These poems, presented in alphabetical order only, fill my thoughts and shape how I see the world every day:
David Antin: “Radical Coherency”
Ted Berrigan: “Things to Do in Providence”
Eavan Boland: “Quarantine”
T. S. Eliot: Four Quartets
Jane Kenyon: “Coats”
Larry Levis: “Winter Stars”
Pablo Neruda: “Tonight I Can Write . . .” translated by W. S. Merwin
Frank O’Hara: “Poem” [The eager note on the door said, “Call me,”]
Shakespeare: “Sonnet 130” [My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun]
Wallace Stevens: “The Snow Man”