Tag Archives: poetry

The Artist as Bear, Jane Yolen

  The Artist As Bear In the softness of the year, she follows green trails. Stands by the rush of river pulls silver fish into her mouth. Summer berries spurt between her long teeth. Wind tickles across her back. She … Continue reading

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The Dream, Grażyna Chrostowska

I had the dream where you read your own poems, Like those written sometime ago, only these were in the grey book written after death… And you look finer, paler and tinier every passing moment, Then you disappear. The last … Continue reading

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Jenny Browne: After a God

The man I love most says one day he will take a ballpoint pen and connect the stars across this freckled scoop of chest and milky way. We’ll cross the slope of pale belly and name the new constellation after … Continue reading

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In Spite of Everything, the Stars

In Spite of Everything, the Stars Like a stunned piano, like a bucket of fresh milk flung into the air or a dozen fists of confetti thrown hard at a bride stepping down from the altar, the stars surprise the … Continue reading

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No Words Can Describe It, Mark Strand

  How those fires burned that are no longer, how the weather worsened, how the shadow of the seagull vanished without a trace. Was it the end of a season, the end of a life? Was it so long ago … Continue reading

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Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird ~ Wallace Stevens

I Among twenty snowy mountains, The only moving thing Was the eye of a blackbird. II I was of three minds, Like a tree In which there are three blackbirds. III The blackbird whirled in the autumn winds. It was … Continue reading

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Pablo Neruda: Ode to My Socks

Maru Mori brought me a pair of socks which she knitted with her own sheepherder hands, two socks as soft as rabbits. I slipped my feet into them as if they were two cases knitted with threads of twilight and … Continue reading

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Solitude ~ Louise Gluck

  Solitude by Louise Gluck It’s very dark today; through the rain,the mountain isn’t visible. The only soundis rain, driving life underground.And with the rain, cold comes.There will be no moon tonight, no stars. The wind rose at night;all morning … Continue reading

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Virginia Woolf: The Death of the Moth

The Death of the Moth Moths that fly by day are not properly to be called moths; they do not excite that pleasant sense of dark autumn nights and ivy-blossom which the commonest yellow-underwing asleep in the shadow of the … Continue reading

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Pablo Neruda: Fable of the Mermaid and the Drunks

Fable of the Mermaid and the Drunks All those men were there inside, when she came in totally naked. They had been drinking: they began to spit. Newly come from the river, she knew nothing. She was a mermaid who … Continue reading

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