Below you'll find a list of all posts that have been tagged as “poetry”
By Sandra Cisneros Seek a pirul tree and sitbeneath immediately.Remove fromears and tongue,words.Fast from same. Soak in a tub of seclusion.Rinse face with wind.In extreme cases, douseoneself with sky. Then,swab gently with clouds. Dress in clean, pressed pajamas.Preferably white. Hold close to the heart,chihuahuas. Kiss andbe kissed by same. Consume a cool glass of night.Read poetry that inspires poetry.Write until …
A gorgeous, lush poem by Ada Limón More than the fuchsia funnels breaking outof the crabapple tree, more than the neighbor’salmost obscene display of cherry limbs shovingtheir cotton candy-colored blossoms to the slatesky of Spring rains, it’s the greening of the treesthat really gets to me. When all the shock of whiteand taffy, the world’s baubles and trinkets, leavethe pavement …
W. B. Yeats, ‘Gratitude to the Unknown Instructors’ What they undertook to doThey brought to pass;All things hang like a drop of dewUpon a blade of grass. This is Yeats’ poem in its entirety, written in the 1930’s. It is posted in gratitude to my own subconscious.
Bookcase-prop and real or fake bouquetbehind you, well-dressed only to the waistas if in a casket, top half on display,here’s another weirdness to be faced:you’re in the Gallery. You’re shown as oneof your own satellites—as if the sunwere both a planet and the Copernicanmagnet for all planets. Yes, I canundo all this and activate the HideSelf feature . . . where was that again? …
By Lucille Clifton won’t you celebrate with mewhat i have shaped intoa kind of life? i had no model.born in babylonboth nonwhite and womanwhat did i see to be except myself?i made it uphere on this bridge betweenstarshine and clay,my one hand holding tightmy other hand; come celebratewith me that everydaysomething has tried to kill meand has failed. Lucille Clifton, …
by J. Estanislao Lopez The Garden of Eden. My ancestors’ graves. A watermelon field in Central Texas where my father once slept. Miles of rivers. The waiting room of a hospital in which a doctor, thin-looking in his coat, shared mixed results. A den of worms beneath the frozen grass. Jesus’s tomb. The stretches of highway on the long drive …
The Peace of Wild Things by Wendell Berry When despair for the world grows in meand I wake in the night at the least soundin fear of what my life and my children’s lives may beI go and lie down where the wood drakerests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.I come into the peace of …
By Naomi Shihab Nye Letters swallow themselves in seconds. Notes friends tied to the doorknob, transparent scarlet paper,sizzle like moth wings,marry the air. So much of any year is flammable, lists of vegetables, partial poems. Orange swirling flame of days, so little is a stone. Where there was something and suddenly isn’t, an absence shouts, celebrates, leaves a space. I begin again with the smallest numbers. Quick …
i am running into a new yearand the old years blow backlike a windthat i catch in my hairlike strong fingers likeall my old promises andit will be hard to let goof what i said to myselfabout myselfwhen i was sixteen andtwentysix and thirtysixeven thirtysix buti am running into a new yearand i beg what i love andi leave to …