A place to share poetry that I like
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ALT From this bench I like to call my bench I sit From this bench I like to call my bench I sit and watch my tree which is not my tree, no one's tree, the quiet! Except for barn swallows, which are not loud birds, how many exclamation points can I get away with in this life, who was it who said only two or maybe seven - Bishop? Marianne Moore? Either way the world is capable of quiet if everyone stays indoors and no jet planes, my tree, it just stands there in the middle of everything in a meadow on the bay looking what Barthes called “adorable," then I drove the mile west to the sea, which had decided to be loud that day, the sunset, oh, ragged and bloody as a piece of raw meat in the jaws of some big golden carnivore, and I cried a little, for none of it! none of it will last!
ALT These Poems June Jordan 1936 –2002 These poems they are things that I do in the dark reaching for you whoever you are and are you ready? These words they are stones in the water running away These skeletal lines they are desperate arms for my longing and love. I am a stranger learning to worship the strangers around me whoever you are whoever I may become.
ALT flowers here we are running with the weeds colors exaggerated pistils wild embarrassing the calm family flowers oh here we are flourishing for the field and the name of the place is Love
ALT The Red Poppy by Louise Glück The great thing is not having a mind. Feelings: oh, I have those; they govern me. I have a lord in heaven called the sun, and open for him, showing him the fire of my own heart, fire like his presence. What could such glory be if not a heart? Oh my brothers and sisters, were you like me once, long ago, before you were human? Did you permit yourselves to open once, who would never open again? Because in truth I am speaking now the way you do. I speak because I am shattered.
ALT YOU CAN NEVER REMOVE ALL DANGER it is within you always it always safely shines
ALT YOUNG LETTUCE I can take it all, the withering of beans, flowers dying, with dry eyes I can see the potatoes being dug up, when it comes to those, I’m really tough. But young lettuce in September, just planted, still limp, in little moist beds, no.
ALT 3 Everyone is barely holding on. We’re all more than a little tired and scared. We can’t dance around these knives much longer.
ALT Rogue Female 'It's me or you. I have prepared with tireless discipline, and feats of the bladder unusual in women for your approach. Right now a catapult with a fountain-pen bolt is trained on your eye which, I see from your fear, is a distinctive green. This nib, filed fine, will enter your brain. If you haven't been hunting me, you won't be hurt by my words. Move slowly now... much depends on your answer'. Note: 'Rogue Female' draws on Geoffrey Household's 1939 cult thriller Rogue Male, in which a failed assassin goes to ground to confront his pursuer.