Glossary Terms
A French verse form consisting of five three-line stanzas and a final quatrain, with the first and third lines of the first stanza repeating alternately in the following stanzas.
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Villanelle
A French verse form consisting of five three-line stanzas and a final quatrain, with the first and third lines of the first stanza repeating alternately in the following stanzas.. Read More
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- PoemBy Kimiko HahnThe child looks out the window at the peeling barn.
The mother sits on the roof and waves at her.
The grandmother sings to the marvelous stove.
The child has put away her Little Marvel Stove
because her grandmother is baking real bread.
The child... - PoemBy Michael Luis MedranoJesús José Medrano went away
no more motel rooms to clean
he asked my dad to take his place
when Dad cried and looked the other way
the mortician closed the coffin on the body
Jesús José Medrano went away
He wore his best gray suit... - PoemBy Dylan ThomasDo not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do... - PoemBy Randall MannThe vulgar ones will grind, and gnaw the bone,
our semipublic faces caked with joy.
The pure admire the pure, and live alone.
If we could find a bias of our own,
then we, the altar- and the mama’s boy—
the vulgar ones—will grind and... - PoemBy Raymond AntrobusMy mother says my father had a heartless sense of humour.
That winter she fell, ice on the road—
She can't forget her bruise, his laughter.
Not even his shadow helped her up or soothed her.
He watched from the kerb—boozy red-eyed Dad—
laughed when... - PoemBy Jennifer HorneWe don’t know how to behave.
As in adolescence, we stand uneasily
At awkward distances from one another.
As in adolescence, we stand uneasily
In this new space, revising
All that we’ve been taught.
In this new space, revising
The meaning of breath, hand, touch, near,
Our bodies... - PoemBy Anthony HechtWe have set out from here for the sublime
Pastures of summer shade and mountain stream;
I have no doubt we shall arrive on time.
Is all the green of that enameled prime
A snapshot recollection or a dream?
We have set out from here... - PoemBy George BradleySuppose your mere existence sickened you,
That human kind appeared the name of greed,
Your horse a god compared to gods you knew,
And suddenly a mercenary crew
Of drunken thugs insisted you succeed
To just the sort of sham that sickened you:
Declared a god... - PoemBy A.E. StallingsTo build a labyrinth it takes
A twisted mind, a puzzled art,
A fractal branching of mistakes.
Drag out the shovels and the rakes,
The spirit level, sacred chart.
To build a labyrinth it takes
Shadows, stones, a way that snakes
And ladders to its shaky start;
An... - PoemBy Maria HummelDear sip, dear shotgun, dear pound:
beneath the house, the kegs roll in;
the party flips its switches down.
When drunk comes, it comes as sound,
a chord, a liftoff. I ride the rim,
dear sip, dear shotgun, dear pound.
He could be anyone, and he... - PoemBy Veronica Forrest-ThomsonIt is the sense, it is the sense, controls,
Landing every poem like a fish.
Unhuman forms must not assert their roles.
Glittering scales require the deadly tolls
Of net and knife. Scales fall to relish.
It is the sense, it is the sense, controls.
Yet... - PoemBy Diane Gilliam FisherShe cannot imagine it otherwise.
She wakes in the morning and twists her ring,
loves how every night in their bed he lies
breathing warm in the dark and never shies
away. He lets her talk, he lets her sing.
She cannot imagine it otherwise.
One... - PoemBy Kiki PetrosinoWe opened the door to the fairy house
& took our tea on matching pebble seats.
Somehow we got out of there alive
though something crystalline of us
remains in that dark, growing its facets.
We opened the door to the fairy house
at the oak’s... - PoemBy Adrienne SuDropping napkins, corks, and non-compostables
into the trash, I see that friends have mistaken
my everyday chopsticks for disposables,
helpfully discarding them alongside inedibles:
pork bones, shrimp shells, bitter melon.
Among napkins and corks, they do look compostable:
off-white, wooden, warped from continual
washing — no lacquer, no ornament.... - PoemBy Richard HugoThe dim boy claps because the others clap.
The polite word, handicapped, is muttered in the stands.
Isn’t it wrong, the way the mind moves back.
One whole day I sit, contrite, dirt, L.A.
Union Station, ’46, sweating through last night.
The dim boy claps... - PoemBy Anthony LawrenceMy darling turns to poetry at night.
What began as flirtation, an aside
Between abstract expression and first light
Now finds form as a silent, startled flight
Of commas on her face — a breath, a word ...
My darling turns to poetry at night.
When rain inspires... - PoemBy Lilace Mellin GuignardChild, when you’re sad put on your blue shoes.
You know that Mama loves you lollipops
and Daddy still has a job to lose.
So put on a party hat. We’ll play the kazoos
loud and louder from the mountaintop.
Child, when you’re sad put... - PoemBy David ShapiroNothing rhymes in English with an orange.
It stands alone, with luster in a far tinge.
It stands alone, and seems to make a star cringe.
On Saturday it’s blue like an orange
Or like a surrealist sight rhyme in a garage.
Nothing rhymes in... - PoemBy Billy RamsellTo render the ocean one needs a whole year
with Zoom in freezing fingers on a quarter-mile of coast.
Sound is the one true vocabulary of nature
and not the peacock-palette painters swear
he uses for his best stuff, for his daily disposable frescoes.
To...