Who is Joyce Sutphen

Sutphen speaking after Governor Dayton, at right, announced her appointment as the Poet Laureate of Minnesota Joyce Sutphen (born August 10, 1949) is an American poet, currently serving as Minnesota's Poet Laureate. She is the state's second laureate, appointed by Governor Mark Dayton in August, 2011. Sutphen also serves as a professor of English at Gustavus Adolphus College in St. Peter, Min...
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Joyce Sutphen Poems

  • Crossroads
    The second half of my life will be black
    to the white rind of the old and fading moon.
    The second half of my life will be water
    over the cracked floor of these desert years. ...
  • The Farm
    My father's farm is an apple blossomer.
    He keeps his hills in dandelion carpet
    and weaves a lane of lilacs between the rose
    and the jack-in-the-pulpits. ...
  • Evening Angelus
    I have forgotten the words,
    and therefore I shall not conceive
    of a mysterious salvation, I shall
    not become a tall lily and bloom ...
  • Just For The Record
    It wasn't like that. Don't imagine
    my father in a feed cap, chewing
    a stem of alfalfa, spitting occasionally.
  • The Aunts
    I like it when they get together
    and talk in voices that sound
    like apple trees and grape vines,
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Top 10 most used topics by Joyce Sutphen

Together 7 Time 6 Away 6 White 5 Place 4 Never 4 Beneath 3 Thought 3 Door 3 Heart 3

Joyce Sutphen Quotes

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Comments about Joyce Sutphen

  • Contrawhit: “naming the stars” (joyce sutphen) this present tragedy will eventually turn into myth, and in the mist of that later telling the bell tolling now will be a symbol, or, at least, a sign of something long since lost. this will be another one of those 1/2
  • Goodnatureart: oh, joyce sutphen:
  • Nyzencenter: from "what the heart cannot forget" by joyce sutphen full poem:
  • Mitchnobis: happy spring sunshine. here’s some joyce sutphen.
  • Mitchnobis: and one more joyce sutphen for the heyteach crowd.
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Poem of the day

Oscar Wilde Poem
A Villanelle
 by Oscar Wilde

O singer of Persephone!
In the dim meadows desolate
Dost thou remember Sicily?

Still through the ivy flits the bee
Where Amaryllis lies in state;
O Singer of Persephone!


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