Poem
By Andrew Frisardi
PRIMEAt dawn, the shapes of cypresses in fog
Were fingers pointing up from graves, as if what's born…
Were fingers pointing up from graves, as if what's born…
Category
Landscapes & Pastorals
Showing 1-20 of 1,128 results
- PoemBy Don Domanski*
clouds creak in the sky
herons creak in the sky.
*
the dark approaches itself
from all sides once again… - PoemBy Peter O’LearyIn a wind
the lake's scissoring surface
and the Sun's vernal glare
the gulls cut to curls
in their turns… - PoemBy Tilsa OttaI saw a herd of toads in the gully of my reflection
Staring at each other arguing over insects
It wasn… - PoemBy Tilsa OttaVi una manada de sapos mirándose entre ellos
Discutiendo insectos en el cauce de mi reflejo
No fue rom… - PoemBy Emily Wilsonstripped batting of cloud
glimpsed ligaments
dusk coming up under
lithographic, nib-hatchings
instruments click
the fine-sprung locust
replicate dinge along hill-lines
tailings of umber, the rust smudge
There is still that hemmed ocean of oaks
the various reds, the somehow
silver cast over the... - PoemBy Stephen Ratcliffelight coming into fog against invisible
top of ridge, blue jay on redwood fence
in foreground, sound of wave in channel
starting from this concept,
anything that is not
on... - PoemBy Cole Swensena river slips
in shifting leaves
sifting. a river sifts
and falls to pieces
in which not seen
... - PoemBy Emily BrontëO transient voyager of heaven!
O silent sign of winter skies!
What adverse wind thy sail has driven
To dungeons where a prisoner lies?
Methinks the hands that shut the sun
So sternly from this morning's brow
Might still their rebel task have done
And checked a thing... - ArticleBy Eric WeiskottA melancholy medieval rent collector’s sorrows, scribbled on the back of a legal document
- PoemBy John TickhillIn springtime, chief of all seasons,
in May when new joys rise and flourish,
the sun is lord and messenger at once and sends down to us
to rouse our bodies and be merry:
humankind to... - PoemBy Jane HirshfieldOn the fifth day
the scientists who studied the rivers
were forbidden to speak
or to study the rivers.
The scientists who studied the air
were told not to speak of the air,
and the ones who worked for the farmers
were silenced,
and the ones who worked... - PoemBy Alvin FeinmanThis this will it always be, and why
To ever argue for: here walking
In its life, or sprawled, or loitering
Down shallow valleys of the lawn:
The trees that are there
The pigeon bobbing through
Its fallowgray ellipse of ground—
The comfort of this ground
Is physical:... - PoemBy Ted HughesI climbed through woods in the hour-before-dawn dark.
Evil air, a frost-making stillness,
Not a leaf, not a bird,—
A world cast in frost. I came out above the wood
Where my breath left tortuous statues in the iron light.
But the valleys were draining... - PoemBy Tracy K. Smith200 cows more than 600 hilly acres
property would have been even larger
had J not sold 66 acres to DuPont for
waste from its Washington Works factory
where J was employed
... - PoemBy Jeffrey YangHow easy it is to lose oneself
in a kelp forest. Between
canopy leaves, sunlight filters thru
the water surface; nutrients
bring life where there’d other-
wise be barren sea; a vast eco-
system breathes. Each
being being being’s link. - PoemBy Ahmad Almallahthe wound is bleeding into white
the wound is threading clouds
across the eye, across its view
and how can it be
that I am
caught
... - PoemBy Danez SmithO California, don’t you know the sun is only a god
if you learn to starve for him? I’m bored with the ocean
I stood at the lip of it, dressed in down, praying for snow
I know, I’m strange, too much light... - PoemBy Tristan Tzarathen the clouds rolled in
young is the night that is to say
a cellophane softness ensued
which blew across the sky like wisps of straw
their firearms—a job well done
young is the night
and when the circus tent begins to blaze
beneath the eyes speak... - 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?
