Tagged: poetry

The Minneapolis Poem by James Wright   to John Logan 1 I wonder how many old men last winter Hungry and frightened by namelessness prowled The Mississippi shore Lashed blind by the wind, dreaming Of...

Chansons Innocentes by e. e. cummings in Just- spring when the world is mud- luscious the little lame balloonman whistles far and wee and eddieandbill come running from marbles and piracies and it’s spring...

The Painting by John Balaban The stream runs clear to its stones; the fish swim in sharp outline. Girl, turn your face for me to draw. Tomorrow, if we should drift apart, I shall find...

The Changing Light by Lawrence Ferlinghetti    The changing light at San Francisco is none of your East Coast light none of your pearly light of Paris The light of San Francisco is a sea...

Museum by Glyn Maxwell   Sundays, like a stanza break Or shower’s end of all applause, For some old unexplaining sake The optimistic tread these shores, As lonely as the dead awake Or God among...

Gooseberry Season by Simon Armitage   Which reminds me. He appeared at noon, asking for water. He’d walked from town after losing his job, leaving me a note for his wife and his brother...

Aubade: Some Peaches, After Storm by Carl Phillips   So that each is its own, now–each has fallen, blond stillness. Closer, above them, the damselflies pass as they would over water, if the fruit...

White Apples by Donald Hall   when my father had been dead a week I woke with his voice in my ear I sat up in bed and held my breath and stared at...

Honey by Arielle Greenberg   I am three months out and six to go, stuffing my plastic Superball body with the salt & twang of crackers die-cut into the shapes of fish. God forsakes...

In Flanders Fields by John McCrae   In Flanders Fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place; and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce...