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his paper propped against the electric toaster (nicely adjusted to his morning use), Daniel at breakfast studies world disaster and sips his orange juice.…
Phyllis McGinley (March 21, 1905 - February 22, 1978) was an American writer of children's books and poet about the positive aspects of suburban life.[1] McGinley was born in Ontario, Oregon. At age 3, her family moved to Colorado, and on to Ogden, Utah after her father died. She studied at the University of Southern California and the University of Utah in Salt Lake City, graduating in 1927. She then taught at a junior high school in New Rochelle, New York for one year, until her career as a writer and poet took off. Her poems were published in the New York Herald Tribune and The New Yorker, among others. She also wrote the lyrics for a musical revue, Small Wonder, in 1948. In 1955, she was elected a member of the National Academy of Arts and Letters. In 1961 she won the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry; in 1964 she was honored with the Laetare Medal by the University of Notre Dame (described as 'An honor to a man or woman who has "enriched the heritage of humanity"'). She also holds nearly a dozen honorary degrees - "including one from the stronghold of strictly masculine pride, Dartmouth College." (from the dust jacket of Sixpence in Her Shoes (copy 1964)). McGinley died in New York.)
Phyllis McGinley şiirleri
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In spring when maple buds are red, We turn the clock an hour ahead; Which means, each April that arrives, We lose an hour out of our lives.…
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The first thing to remember about fathers is, they're men. A girl has to keep it in mind. They are dragon-seekers, bent on impossible rescues. Scratch any father, you find…
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Intimations of Mortality on being told by the dentist that this will be over soon Indeed, it will soon be over, I shall be done…
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Summer, adieu Adieu gregarious season. Goodbye, 'revoir, farewell. Now day comes late; now chillier blows the breeze on…
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I wish I owned a Dior dress Made to my order out of satin. I wish I weighed a little less And could read Latin.…
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Where are the ribbons I tie my hair with? Where is my lipstick? Where are my hose - The sheer ones hoarded these weeks to wear with Frocks the closets do not disclose?…
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She said, If tomorrow my world were torn in two, Blacked out, dissolved, I think I would remember (As if transfixed in unsurrendering amber) This hour best of all the hours I knew:…
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The other day I chanced to meet An angry man upon the street — A man of wrath, a man of war, A man who truculently bore…