January Poems - Poems For January

January poems from famous poets and best january poems to feel good. Most beautiful january poems ever written. Read all poems for january.


In January - Poem by Ted Kooser

Only one cell in the frozen hive of night
is lit, or so it seems to us:
this Vietnamese café, with its oily light,
its odors whose colorful shapes are like flowers.
Laughter and talking, the tick of chopsticks.
Beyond the glass, the wintry city
creaks like an ancient wooden bridge.
A great wind rushes under all of us.
The bigger the window, the more it trembles.


Comments about In January by Ted Kooser

  • Rookie - 222 Points Elena Tsonkova (9/18/2016 3:52:00 PM)

    Atmospheric, vivid. Makes me peep through that trembling window and reach for the the warmth in that cafe far beyond my reach and at the same time the wind makes me shiver. Beautiful! (Report) Reply

    3 person liked.
    5 person did not like.
  • Gold Star - 109,063 Points Ratnakar Mandlik (9/18/2016 10:50:00 AM)

    An awesome write and highly enjoyable read. (Report) Reply

    2 person liked.
    2 person did not like.
  • Gold Star - 5,745 Points john tiong chunghoo (9/24/2006 4:20:00 AM)

    dear ted, this is the haiku to your poem:

    night
    the shimmer of the city
    in the river
    (Report) Reply

    4 person liked.
    2 person did not like.
  • Freshman - 539 Points Percy Dovetonsils (1/29/2005 1:38:00 PM)

    Haiku-like. 'the wintry city creaks like an ancient wooden bridge' is spot on. The syllables somehow sound like the thing they are talking about. This must be one of his best. (Report) Reply

    3 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
January Poems
  1. 1. In January
    Ted Kooser
  2. 2. A Calendar Of Sonnets: January
    Helen Hunt Jackson
  3. 3. January 1939
    Dylan Thomas
  4. 4. January
    William Carlos Williams
  5. 5. January Morning
    William Carlos Williams
  6. 6. January, 1795
    Mary Darby Robinson
  7. 7. January Jumps About
    George Barker
  8. 8. Orchard Trees, January
    Richard Wilbur
  9. 9. January Mist
    Sandra Fowler
  10. 10. Our Lucky Cat, Tom Experienced The Blue,..
    Muzahidul Reza
  11. 11. A January Morning
    Archibald Lampman
  12. 12. In California: Morning, Evening, Late Ja..
    Denise Levertov
  13. 13. January In New York
    Erica Jong
  14. 14. [month Of] January
    Hilaire Belloc
  15. 15. January Cold Desolate
    Christina Georgina Rossetti
  16. 16. Voice Of Freedom,25 January Revolution
    Abdallah Gamal
  17. 17. A Tale, Founded On A Fact, Which Happene..
    William Cowper
  18. 18. Ode Written On The First Of January
    Robert Southey
  19. 19. *808 Garnet Birthstone Of January
    John Knight
  20. 20. January
    John Updike
  21. 21. The Shepherds Calendar - January- Winter..
    John Clare
  22. 22. Beranger's My Last Song Perhaps (January..
    Eugene Field
  23. 23. On My Thirty-Third Birthday, January 22,..
    George Gordon Byron
  24. 24. A Book Of Strife In The Form Of The Diar..
    George MacDonald
  25. 25. January
    Edith Nesbit
  26. 26. In January / जनवरी में (Hindi)
    Rajnish Manga
  27. 27. Ode On The Present Times, 27th January 1..
    Amelia Opie
  28. 28. January
    Cornelius Webb
  29. 29. January 2019 P H Showcase Of Poems …[ Of..
    Bri Edwards
  30. 30. January 23
    Glen Kappy
  31. 31. Swami Vivekananda(On 12th January,2019)
    Prabir Gayen
  32. 32. ! Song Of January!
    Rema Prasanaa
  33. 33. A Cold Day In January
    Pete Crowther
  34. 34. New Year's Journey Since 11th January 19..
    Kumarmani Mahakul
  35. 35. January 2018 Showcase For, And Often &qu..
    Bri Edwards
  36. 36. January 6
    Aniruddha Pathak
  37. 37. 0166 January Sunlight
    Michael Shepherd
  38. 38. In January
    Maurice Sendak
  39. 39. Released—january, 1878
    John Boyle O'Reilly
  40. 40. A January Day
    Nosheen Irfan
  41. 41. (updated January 28,2009) The U. S. Arm..
    Reginald Walker
  42. 42. America's New Dawn - 20 January 2017
    Darwin Henry Beuning
  43. 43. A Night In January
    Sunprincess
  44. 44. 30th January - An Order
    Gopaldas Neeraj
  45. 45. (updated January 28,2009) The U. S. Arm..
    Reginald Walker
  46. 46. January Dreaming Under The Crescent Moon
    Leah Ayliffe
  47. 47. Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose On 23 Rd Jan..
    Prabir Gayen
  48. 48. January 12
    Aniruddha Pathak
  49. 49. January(Repost)
    Indira Renganathan
  50. 50. January Bird
    Glen Kappy

January Poems

  1. A Calendar Of Sonnets: January

    O Winter! frozen pulse and heart of fire, What loss is theirs who from thy kingdom turn Dismayed, and think thy snow a sculptured urn Of death! Far sooner in midsummer tire The streams than under ice. June could not hire Her roses to forego the strength they learn In sleeping on thy breast. No fires can burn The bridges thou dost lay where men desire In vain to build. O Heart, when Love's sun goes To northward, and the sounds of singing cease, Keep warm by inner fires, and rest in peace. Sleep on content, as sleeps the patient rose. Walk boldly on the white untrodden snows, The winter is the winter's own release.

  2. January Morning

    I I have discovered that most of the beauties of travel are due to the strange hours we keep to see them: the domes of the Church of the Paulist Fathers in Weehawken against a smoky dawn -- the heart stirred -- are beautiful as Saint Peters approached after years of anticipation. II Though the operation was postponed I saw the tall probationers in their tan uniforms hurrying to breakfast! III -- and from basement entries neatly coiffed, middle aged gentlemen with orderly moustaches and well-brushed coats IV -- and the sun, dipping into the avenues streaking the tops of the irregular red houselets, and the gay shadows drooping and drooping. V -- and a young horse with a green bed-quilt on his withers shaking his head: bared teeth and nozzle high in the air! VI --and a semicircle of dirt-colored men about a fire bursting from an old ash can, VII -- and the worn, blue car rails (like the sky!) gleaming among the cobbles! VIII -- and the rickety ferry-boat "Arden"! What an object to be called "Arden" among the great piers, -- on the ever new river! "Put me a Touchstone at the wheel, white gulls, and we'll follow the ghost of the Half Moon to the North West Passage -- and through! (at Albany!) for all that!" IX Exquisite brown waves -- long circlets of silver moving over you! enough with crumbling ice crusts among you! The sky has come down to you, lighter than tiny bubbles, face to face with you! His spirit is a white gull with delicate pink feet and a snowy breast for you to hold to your lips delicately! X The young doctor is dancing with happiness in the sparkling wind, alone at the prow of the ferry! He notices the curdy barnacles and broken ice crusts left at the slip's base by the low tide and thinks of summer and green shell-crusted ledges among the emerald eel-grass! XI Who knows the Palisades as I do knows the river breaks east from them above the city -- but they continue south -- under the sky -- to bear a crest of little peering houses that brighten with dawn behind the moody water-loving giants of Manhattan. XII Long yellow rushes bending above the white snow patches; purple and gold ribbon of the distant wood: what an angle you make with each other as you lie there in contemplation. XIII Work hard all your young days and they'll find you too, some morning staring up under your chiffonier at its warped bass-wood bottom and your soul -- out! -- among the little sparrows behind the shutter. XIV -- and the flapping flags are at half-mast for the dead admiral. XV All this -- was for you, old woman. I wanted to write a poem that you would understand. For what good is it to me if you can't understand it? But you got to try hard -- But -- Well, you know how the young girls run giggling on Park Avenue after dark when they ought to be home in bed? Well, that's the way it is with me somehow.

  3. January

    Again I reply to the triple winds running chromatic fifths of derision outside my window: Play louder. You will not succeed. I am bound more to my sentences the more you batter at me to follow you. And the wind, as before, fingers perfectly its derisive music.

  4. January 1939

    Because the pleasure-bird whistles after the hot wires, Shall the blind horse sing sweeter? Convenient bird and beast lie lodged to suffer The supper and knives of a mood. In the sniffed and poured snow on the tip of the tongue of the year That clouts the spittle like bubbles with broken rooms, An enamoured man alone by the twigs of his eyes, two fires, Camped in the drug-white shower of nerves and food, Savours the lick of the times through a deadly wood of hair In a wind that plucked a goose, Nor ever, as the wild tongue breaks its tombs, Rounds to look at the red, wagged root. Because there stands, one story out of the bum city, That frozen wife whose juices drift like a fixed sea Secretly in statuary, Shall I, struck on the hot and rocking street, Not spin to stare at an old year Toppling and burning in the muddle of towers and galleries Like the mauled pictures of boys? The salt person and blasted place I furnish with the meat of a fable. If the dead starve, their stomachs turn to tumble An upright man in the antipodes Or spray-based and rock-chested sea: Over the past table I repeat this present grace.

[Report Error]