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Alice
At once sacred and secular,
it soothes me.
It softens the little pains behind my face.
It plucks at my forehead in French.
Polyphonic, the voices lilt sweet, proud.
My eyelids burn to a close.
I fall to the side as
polyphonic, the voices fill me.
Kathleen Salerno, Junk and Conversation
Between the trees and the distant constellations
a Boeing's eerie moaning cuts the night;
meteored wings fade loudly out of sight
shattering the stars' calm meditations.
Clairvoyant moon, whose searching penumbrations
sense dogs howling beyond the logical light,
what is this dark epiphany I fight?
It resists rational explanation...
Wind plays me like a flute; the cold vibrations
leave me shaking with the airplane's flight.
My skin wants you-warm solace in the night-
to still the breeze and slow the devastation.
Treetops and stars stand sentinel and stark.
I am alone, fists clenching in the dark.
one's soul,
Diana
if she
could have
gift wrapped
and presented it
with a card
maybe it would
have made a
difference
unfortunately
the giving of
one's sould
is a silent
maneuver.
Emily M. Burgess, Infinitely Emily
Sight lingers on those old faded photographs,
a mosaic of a young woman's life;
a shoe box collage of her trials and triumphs.
Each yellowed piece of paper takes her back to a time
when Daddy could fix whatever was broken,
when "boy cooties" were less desirable than a skinned knee,
and when Mom always knew how to make everything stop hurting.
(Even when the "boy cooties" did eventually become
more desirable than than that skinned knee)
When all that it took to make her happy was hot chocolate with marshmallows,
a campfire, and the smell of a saltwater beach.
When childish dreams weren't something to be ashamed of,
but instead were something to covet, and share with only her best friend:
Max, the teddy-bear.
When her first love would be her only love, and when loves lasted forever.
Her mind wanders back to the simplicity that she once knew,
and the soft blue of those eyes that had once seen fantastical things
fades into the dull grey reality as she puts back the lid on the shoe box...
Closing the door on those most cherished chapters of her young life
as she prepares for new doors to open into the future.
And she can start on a new collection of faded photographs
to weep over, in another eighteen years.
justin.barrett
remark
not unlike the cement
piers of a
bridge,
and very much
like the
mythical Atlas,
you stand
beneath
me
and balance me
on your
shoulders,
supporting me
above
the world.
Adrienne Rich-"Diving the Wreck" is a fabulous metaphor for the literary canon. "Rape" is a frightening poem.
Pablo Neruda-Love poetry at it's best. We like "Body of a Woman."
WH Auden-Need we say more?
Philip Larkin-Very powerful British poet. "This Be The Verse" is a cynical look at the parent-child legacy.
Dylan Thomas-"Do Not Go Gentle" is famous, but "Fern Hill" is beautiful.
Emily Dickenson-Another obvious choice!
Thomas Hardy-Famous for his novels, but he loved his poetry much more.
Search the web for these poets, as well as second-hand bookstores and the evil corporate giants.
