William Stafford

(January 17, 1914 – August 28, 1993 / Kansas)

William Stafford Poems

1. The Well Rising 4/15/2010
2. Walking West 4/15/2010
3. Assurance 11/21/2014
4. Report To Crazy Horse 4/15/2010
5. After Arguing Against The Contention That Art Must Come From Discontent 4/15/2010
6. Hay-Cutters 4/15/2010
7. Bi-Focal 4/15/2010
8. An Oregon Message 4/15/2010
9. Accountability 4/15/2010
10. Monuments For A Friendly Girl At A Tenth Grade Party 4/15/2010
11. Passing Remark 4/15/2010
12. Humanities Lecture 4/15/2010
13. Remembering Mountain Men 1/13/2003
14. Returned To Say 1/13/2003
15. American Gothic 4/15/2010
16. Bess 4/15/2010
17. With Kit, Age 7, At The Beach 1/20/2003
18. One Home 4/15/2010
19. At The Un-National Monument Along The Canadian Border 4/15/2010
20. Thinking For Berky 1/13/2003
21. At The Bomb Testing Site 4/15/2010
22. The Light By The Barn 1/13/2003
23. In The Deep Channel 4/15/2010
24. Across Kansas 1/13/2003
25. This Life 1/13/2003
26. Graydigger's Home 1/13/2003
27. Allegiances 1/13/2003
28. Waking At 3 A.M. 1/13/2003
29. Objector 1/13/2003
30. Atavism 1/13/2003
31. Lit Instructor 1/13/2003
32. Security 1/13/2003
33. When I Met My Muse 1/13/2003
34. Notice What This Poem Is Not Doing 1/13/2003
35. For My Young Friends Who Are Afraid 1/13/2003
36. Just Thinking 1/13/2003
37. Ask Me 1/13/2003
38. Traveling Through The Dark 1/13/2003
39. A Ritual To Read To Each Other 1/13/2003

Comments about William Stafford

  • Elizabeth Marchitti (11/28/2019 1:53:00 PM)

    Why can't I find his Juncos poem?
    There was a whole art show based on his line " I love their clean little coveralls." I have most of his books but don't know which one to look in. I love William Stafford. I love juncos.

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  • carlos (11/6/2019 7:15:00 AM)

    Poem name: First line: " Time wants to show you a different country"

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  • Michael Walker Michael Walker (8/28/2019 8:39:00 PM)

    William Stafford ranked highest among fellow poets rather than run-of-the-mill readers.
    He had technical brilliance fused with imagination. Also originality.

    2 person liked.
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  • Jimmy Frank (4/26/2019 9:19:00 AM)

    @Sir Bob The Great
    Wat the heck? ? ? ?

    1 person liked.
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  • Sir Bob The Great (4/26/2019 9:17:00 AM)

    I say what a great man. Must go now its tea time.

    2 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • Bob Rupp (4/16/2019 1:28:00 PM)

    Life sleeps in this tired old horse - from " A few snorts from a wild one"

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  • Mike Brady (1/27/2019 10:37:00 AM)

    Would someone tell me the first word of the first line of Stafford’s “A Few Snorts from a Wild One”? I have a photocopy of that poem, but the first word (and only that one word) is illegible...
    Kind regards!

    1 person liked.
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  • Dave Harvey (12/31/2018 12:34:00 PM)

    I think the first poem I ever read by him was titled Alpine.: It was a monologue by a small animal that lived above timberline on an unnamed mountain.

    3 person liked.
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  • Danny Smith (10/6/2018 12:03:00 AM)

    Hello Pamela Rogers


    Grass that was moving found all shades of brown,
    moved them along, flowed autumn away
    galloping southward where summer had gone.
    And that was the morning someone’s heart stopped
    and all became still. A girl said, “Forever? ”
    And the grass. “Yes. Forever.” While the sky —
    The sky — the sky — the sky.

    4 person liked.
    2 person did not like.
  • Prosenjit N Sinha (1/29/2018 10:02:00 PM)

    Nobert Hirschhorn is preoccupied with the apparent, incapable of appreciating the spaces of the mind which
    may guide us to universal truths. You cannot blame him; for urban life with it's trivialities, ultimately constricts-
    builds walls of concrete & glass which keeps in facts but excludes the Truth.

    2 person liked.
    3 person did not like.
Best Poem of William Stafford

A Ritual To Read To Each Other

If you don't know the kind of person I am
and I don't know the kind of person you are
a pattern that others made may prevail in the world
and following the wrong god home we may miss our star.

For there is many a small betrayal in the mind,
a shrug that lets the fragile sequence break
sending with shouts the horrible errors of childhood
storming out to play through the broken dyke.

And as elephants parade holding each elephant's tail,
but if one wanders the circus won't find the park,
I call it cruel and maybe the root of all cruelty
to know what occurs...

Read the full of A Ritual To Read To Each Other

Returned To Say

When I face north a lost Cree
on some new shore puts a moccasin down,
rock in the light and noon for seeing,
he in a hurry and I beside him

It will be a long trip; he will be a new chief;
we have drunk new water from an unnamed stream;
under little dark trees he is to find a path
we both must travel because we have met.

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