Howard Nemerov

(29 February 1920 – 5 July 1991 / New York City, New York)

Howard Nemerov Poems

1. Political Reflection 6/19/2015
2. Threshold 1/13/2003
3. The Brief Journey West 4/15/2010
4. The Murder Of William Remington 4/15/2010
5. The Author To His Body On Their Fifteenth Birthday, 29 Ii 80 5/3/2012
6. Writing 4/15/2010
7. On An Occasion Of National Mourning 5/3/2012
8. The Dependencies 1/3/2003
9. The Host, He Says That All Is Well 4/15/2010
10. A Day On The Big Branch 5/3/2012
11. Witnessing The Launch Of The Shuttle Atlantis 5/3/2012
12. The Icehouse In Summer 4/15/2010
13. The Beautiful Lawn Sprinkler 1/13/2003
14. Kicks 1/13/2003
15. Poetics 1/3/2003
16. The Painter Dreaming In The Scholar’s House 5/3/2012
17. Found Poem 5/3/2012
18. Magnitudes 5/3/2012
19. The Consent 5/3/2012
20. Young Woman 4/15/2010
21. To D—, Dead By Her Own Hand 4/15/2010
22. Gyroscope 1/3/2003
23. Style 1/3/2003
24. The Makers 1/3/2003
25. Pockets 5/3/2012
26. The View From An Attic Window 4/15/2010
27. A Primer Of The Daily Round 5/3/2012
28. The Lobster 1/3/2003
29. I Only Am Escaped Alone To Tell Thee 6/30/2003
30. Fugue 1/3/2003
31. Casting 1/3/2003
32. Lion & Honeycomb 5/3/2012
33. The War In The Air 4/15/2010
34. The Town Dump 5/3/2012
35. Life Cycle Of Common Man 5/3/2012
36. Storm Windows 1/3/2003
37. A Spell Before Winter 1/3/2003
38. The Vacuum 4/15/2010
39. The Goose Fish 1/3/2003
40. Insomnia I 1/3/2003
Best Poem of Howard Nemerov

September, The First Day Of School

I

My child and I hold hands on the way to school,
And when I leave him at the first-grade door
He cries a little but is brave; he does
Let go. My selfish tears remind me how
I cried before that door a life ago.
I may have had a hard time letting go.

Each fall the children must endure together
What every child also endures alone:
Learning the alphabet, the integers,
Three dozen bits and pieces of a stuff
So arbitrary, so peremptory,
That worlds invisible and visible

Bow down before it, as in Joseph's dream
The sheaves bowed down and then the...

Read the full of September, The First Day Of School

A Spell Before Winter

After the red leaf and the gold have gone,
Brought down by the wind, then by hammering rain
Bruised and discolored, when October's flame
Goes blue to guttering in the cusp, this land
Sinks deeper into silence, darker into shade.
There is a knowledge in the look of things,
The old hills hunch before the north wind blows.

Now I can see certain simplicities

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