Exorcising the Ghost of You
Poem submission by thetommytimes The pain from yesterday lingers on, a recurring nightmare that last for eons. You said you’ll love me true, But you left me blue. I was a terrible lover, that I knew. But remaining true, I never once withdrew. I was mean, I was blunt. So I guess, that honesty shredded us apart. 5 years I fought, It ended up nought. Struggling with a pessimist,...
Poem submission by Robert L. Phillips The fields swayed green as an emerald ocean As we marched heads proud away, Only to have them hung with regret For that which we’d lost and never again regained; For our lives had grown calloused And we ourselves grown old, While the fields remained young and green by comparison.
When you are old and grey
Submission by The Voices Project Click here to view a short film from Australia that features W.B. Yeats’ “When You are Old and Grey”.
Poem submission by Joshua D. Nightingale A philosopher walking through a wood is a sight you really must see. His feet don’t quite work like they should. They swish, they swoosh, along the autumn alley Trudging along; without way for clock’s cogs, caring not, are too busy. Yes, while a thinker’s feet shamble slow their mind is a whole different story. It races along those golden paths,...
J. D. McClatchy's "Mercury Dressing"
The title poem of J. D. McClatchy’s most recent collection brings us his vision of Mercury, the God of thievery and travel, swift bearer of messages in his winged sandals. - Knopf Poetry Team *** Mercury Dressing To steal a glance and, anxious, see Him slipping into transparency— The feathered helmet already in place, Its shadow fallen across his face (His hooded sex its...
Yellow and Red
Poem submission by charmingnostalgia.tumblr.com Last night I dreamt Of yellow and red Orange grinned Where our paths met We walked quite a way We talked and we sang Your laughter like bells Chimed as it rang The surrounding air was sprinkled with mist Coated with warmth Contentment and bliss Your hand in mine Was like the sun on the snow Melting away The bittersweet cold But...
The Rabbit and the Bird
Poem submission by Chris Ferchen Humid June day. A little girl plucks dandelions; hums a happy tune. High in the sky, she notices a rabbit and a bird waltzing above the trees. The animals slide across the cornflower sky, dancing too close to the sun. “No,” the girl pleads, “don’t go, please stay.” She runs over to the patio where her parents sit and talk and sit and talk and— The little...
Edward Hirsch's "Green Figs"
The impossibility of religious faith has been a theme in the work of Edward Hirsch over the years; yet in the presence of doubt, in the experience of yearning, in encountering a small yield of sweetness, he finds something perhaps equivalent, or faith enough. “Green Figs” seems appropriate reading for Good Friday as well as the first seder of Passover tonight. - Knopf Poetry Team ...
Poem submission by Marna Ashburn Krajeski The recital hall is packed and I don’t know how to play the piano. Today is the exam and I haven’t been to class. I’m late for the test, the airport, the tournament. I’m on a slow bus that stalls at every turn. I have no music, no shoes, no ticket. The show is starting and I’m not ready, not where I’m ...
Poem submission by Benvenuto Garisto My eyes are made of glass, my bones are without mass. My heart is made of soil, my blood will always boil. My hair is made of silk, purer than a mother’s milk. X and Y have come together, ground together into leather. This is how I am made, manufactured, cannot trade. This is how I am made, laid to rest, diamond grade.
The Seasons - "Spring"
Poem submission by Nathan Skky Let us be Spring — with flowers in our hair and sap in our veins and the song of Life on our lips, loosed as a babbling brook and birdsong. Let us be joyous with the sun pouring from our eyes; with the wind whispering words in our ear as we dance, swaying like the trees in the breeze. Yes, let us be Spring with rose-petal skin and eyes so green which pierce the...
Poem submission by innana.tumblr.com A double yellow line Our polar bodies If not attractive Then at any rate, convincing The way you breathe Is greed itself Your nostrils widening This is the main mistake Everyone makes: Confusing imagination For intellect, And collectively failing To exhale innana.tumblr.com
Poem submission by thecityofrain.tumblr.com An open canvas, shining gems, Encompassed by the night. Lustrous, twinkling specks abound, Calling me in their light. Bidding me to fancy them as Things of soft silver made, When hanging precariously, They bend each tawny blade. Begging me to imagine them, As small fragile cocoons, That are selfishly capturing, The faint and distant moon.
Marie Ponsot's "A Rune, Interminable"
Marie Ponsot, who turns 91 this month, still treads with sprightly step as she delivers her incomparable wisdom. - Knopf Poetry Team *** A Rune, Interminable Low above the moss a sprig of scarlet berries soon eaten or blackened tells time. Go to a wedding as to a funeral: bury the loss. ...
Poem submission by viotron.tumblr.com The soil was cold and wet on my skin. My chest to my knees; my knees to my chin. My thirsty roots drank milk dripped down from the plants I waited and grew with the snakes and the ants. Suddenly daytime pried open my eyes The womb where I nestled pushed me toward the sky. My body displaced mud, bugs, grass, and earth. My head broke the surface as the ground...
Poem submsission by ariane-corinne.tumblr.com the red clashes violently with the pink. no one even noticed the difference.
Poem submission by eyezoffyre.tumblr.com luminary-love the wild spirit of my cold winter winds becomes grounded and stationary in the heat of your fierce fever you transform me I become the sky waiting on the day this intricate secret of love blooms under my breasts into soft summer air filled with incandescent saffron rare and expensive expansive I lazily toss my legs over the moon hanging,...
Simon Armitage's "Sold to the Lady in the...
Simon Armitage’s latest volume, Seeing Stars, is a fascinating swerve for this lyric poet – while still emanating from the soul of Britain, this latest is a book of startling dramatic monologues, tall tales, and chillingly deadpan meditations by unforgettable people not unlike ourselves, stuck in the gears of an absurd modern society not unlike our own. - Knopf Poetry Team *** Sold to...
Poem submission by Stephanie Pushaw Our compasses fail us again and again, leading us along the wrong magnetic fields, yet we sail still through quiet seas under the false mathematics of north. What the frontier means. Not conquering. Not masculinity, not like the blank box on a calendar, not the space between numbers on the face of a clock. It’ll always be like this: the knots that tie me to...