Note: I went first to (online) poems that I remember liking, as in, poems that struck me enough in the past five years or so as to be memorable. I'm not sure I like them all quite as much now, but just being memorable is really saying a lot, given the abundance of entirely unmemorable poems out there.
"I Am Not the Pilot" by Tony Tost: This is a gimmick poem. I don't generally go in for gimmicks (though I like conceptual poems, and it's a very fine line), but I find this poem to be rather haunting:
Folks I am not a pilot and therefore"She Uses Her Pinky Finger When She Types" (scroll down) by Mathias Svalina: You really have to push past the first stanza for this one. Again, this has an upfront weakness (overbearing irony) but it overcomes it with real feeling. (I have no aversion to irony, cuss-words, cuteness and the like unless there's nothing else to the poem.)
I am not at the glamorous end of the sword.
I have no feelings for the machine.
I know what pilots look like.
I am not a pilot but I am beginning to understand the pilot's cause
"Cloud Walk 2" by Matthew Rohrer: Very idea-forward (as a wine can be fruit-forward), this works because it's charming. This kind of poem can otherwise fail when the poet is A) obviously derivative, B) not charming, C) etc. For "context" read Cloud Walks 1 and 3.
"Insomnia" (scroll down) by Matt Henriksen: A poem I don't want to like, but can't help but. The end is like the end of the novel-within-the-movie at the end of Stand By Me (Richard Dreyfuss typing, Doogie-Howser-style, "Jesus, does anyone?"). This is the Beatles' song of poems, overplayed, over-perfect, over-quotable, and O.
"Some Occurrences on the 7:18 to Penn" by Ana Bozicevic: I've been mostly citing very casual-toned, personable stuff, and here we go again. Again, this transcends, because Ana is a genius: "I love jewels. Don’t you just love jewels? / (Oh good, you’re my kind. She-assassin of light.)" She always starts off cool, then pushes it into the beautiful, when most wouldn't dare. As Sam once quoted me, "When in doubt, be beautiful."
"Gallery of the Daughter" (scroll down) by Kristen Kaschock: A poem with "little titles," as John would say. KK's whole project on daughters (or "dotters" as in her poems in No Tell Motel) is fascinating. Her poems are often quite performative, almost like plays. They seem to enact, rather than describe, and are almost campy, but still affecting. They remind me of dioramas.
"Then & Now" (scroll down) by Mary Walker Graham: MWG is essentially a "school of quietude" poet, but so good and so thoughtful, it puts the lie to the distinction. She traffics in the "poemy" without frittering away into inconsequence. I love the "like a person" refrain. It reminds me of certain poems I've written, but doesn't, therefore, feel transparent/easy. MWG isn't a frequent publisher, but I really like what I've seen.
"The Problem with Samy Rosenstock" (scroll down) by Heather Green: The first time I read this poem, I felt jealous. I wished I'd written it! Again, the comfortable, chatty voice, the cleverness, and then it breaks through to real feeling: "I've loved you this whole time, but I can't get there by half. And now I hear you're living in the extreme ultraviolet. Where only a moth or a baby could see you." Also I love poems that riff off math or science or philosophy without feeling like they have POSEUR stamped all over them. HG's chapbook No Omen has another great prose poem with a baby motif.