Category
Epigraph
A quotation placed beneath the title at the beginning of a poem or section of a poem.
Showing 1-20 of 161 results
- Glossary TermsA quotation placed beneath the title at the beginning of a poem or section of a poem.
- PoemBy Federico García LorcaVerde que te quiero verde.
Verde viento. Verdes ramas.
El barco sobre la mar
y el caballo en la montaña.
Con la sombra en la cintura,
ella sueña en su baranda
verde carne, pelo verde,
con ojos de fría plata.
Verde que te quiero verde.
Bajo la luna gitana,
las... - PoemBy Rajiv MohabirLook at your feet, so beautiful. Do
not step on the ground, filth will smear them;
your future will fill with pricks. He with a
fearful heart, understand dead. Death will dance
on your head — lift your eyes and see. I am
its servant,... - PoemBy Rickey LaurentiisBecause I should’ve wrote this years ago, I’m crying. So what my slow failure pass the years
Make me be crying. So what in Bethlehem I tried to push so much against it, where the Wall is checkpoint... - PoemBy Federico García LorcaTranslated By Sarah ArvioGreen I want you green
green wind green branches
Boat on the sea and
horse on the mountain
Shadow on her waist
she dreams at her railing
green flesh green hair
eyes of cold silver
Green I want you green
Under the gypsy moon
things are seeing her
but she can’t... - PoemBy Chris AbaniA stream in a forest and a boy fishing,
heart aflame, head hush, tasting the world—
lick and pant. The Holy Scripture
is animal not book.
I should know, I have smoked
the soul of God, psalm burning
between fingers on an African afternoon.
And how is... - PoemBy Patti Smithpicture this. I’ll play the killer. 16 millimeter.
ebony and ivory. the purest contrast. iris closed.
open sesame. a screen of creamy white satin.
on that wedding lap a white persian cat. a pale
hand pets. milk purr. pan up slow. it’s me see.
in... - ArticleBy Tyler MaloneWho are all these people? Where is this waste land they inhabit? What is this chaos of impressions we are privy to? Wherefore such madness?
- PoemBy Bianca Lynne SpriggsWe are all ventricle, spine, lung, larynx, and gut.
Clavicle and nape, what lies forked in an open palm;
we are follicle and temple. We are ankle, arch,
sole. Pore and rib, pelvis and root
and tongue. We are wishbone and gland and molar
and... - PoemBy Roya Marsh... then Rap Gawd formed a man
from the dust of the auto-tune
&breathed into his nostrils
the breath of Rémy Martin
the man became Fetty Wap.
Rap Gawd saw fit to
make Fetty a counterpart.
so he caused the man to fall into a deep sleep;
while he... - PoemBy Terisa Siagatonusomeone will
touch the Earth
once, I wanted
my own soil.
tried to drown my ankles
in myself.
again. Daughter of Oceania
wanting me home.
my skin is sacred ground.
always want
to take
a white girl's skin
I cried so hard,
until I became a boat
I never want to be lost
at high... - PoemBy Britteney Black Rose KapriHouse, as in abode, as in dwelling, as in crib, as in where your inhibitions go to rest. as in jack, loft, footwork. as in sweating out that press and curl. as in yo momma steppin out tonight. as in...
- PoemBy Bernadette HallI give thee the sun as guarantee
and the Egyptian faience beads
and the little silver oar that was gifted once
to an English harbor master.
I give thee the silk dress
with its triple-ruffled sleeves and
the cloaks with big hoods that fall full
though some... - PoemBy Sandra McPhersonA girl moaning: I don’t
understand
“Wave.”
You said, Maybe
you should try
selected whitecaps.
I saw, on a flight
to Honolulu, plane-shadow
on whitecaps.
My eye tried them.
Yours could, in its sleep.
Others needn’t think of them
as waves
but as scratches
in the furniture,
light wood under stain.
Obscurity stains almost the whole
half-globe,
hemisphere.... - PoemBy Paul BatchelorMy dear little birds,
before me on my desk this morning
where I sit preparing tomorrow’s lesson
lies a copy of The Witches’ Rout... - PoemBy Marion McCreadymother’s malison
The burr of the wind is seeping through the door,
pink stumps of rhubarb are breaking through the soil.
Though it is February I have the mind of autumn.
Though it is February ...
The upstairs baby is crying through the wall,
the bay tree... - PoemBy Donald Revelli
How is it I can never find
Or call to mind
One image of Christ walking slowly in the rain,
In a steady, gentle rain,
The kind that shapes an afterimage
Just for a moment of the man
Like a cloak of shadow following
Or like a... - PoemBy Christopher Spaidei. troppo allegro
Remember seasons? Seem to recall those once were easier.
Reasonably sequenced, regal of tempo and temper,
Reliable change flipped heads-over-tails each quarter,
Recovering the hemisphere with four fine suits, knock-off designer.
Recently, someone shuffled, cut the deck into disorder:
Relapse, tic, hiccup, snap,... - PoemBy Jenn GivhanI carried a bowl of menudo into the forest / I carried my bisabuela’s tripas not daring ask whose intestines I carried / con cilantro y radish y cebolla chopped fine / I carried the sewing machine they’d chained her...