By Arvind Krishna Mehrotra
Set with raindrops, displayedbetween the king’s mantle and the litchi tree,was the cobweb I almost walked...
Explore Poems: Animals
Showing 1-20 of 1,420 poems
- By Julia FiedorczukFrom within my bodily singularityI play at sending out gentle sunbeams.I don't believe in myself, but...
- By Ada LimónMy brother holds a snake by its head. The whole length of the snake is the length of my brother’s body...
- By Ada LimónIs it okay to begin with the obvious? I am full of stones— is it okay not to look out this window, but...
- By Ada LimónI pass the feeder and yell, Grackle party! And then an hour later I yell, Mourning dove afterparty! (I call the feeder the...
- By Erin BelieuMorning thick with inscrutable dinge; another season drained. I’m watching the pest control man fill...
- By CAConrad
Frank knows a
butterfly
who wonders
about her old
caterpillar
friends - By Stephen Ratcliffelight coming into fog against invisible top of ridge, blue jay on redwood fence in foreground, sound...
- He was jailed for cruelty to insects, and his agent wasn’t answering the phone, so he stayed awake in...
- By Marc Isaac PotterThere is not any ... thing ... ... the fish, and all the living things that are not fish, ... they kill...
- By Holly Mitchell1. After the beginning of the gallop, there are counts when the horse is in the air, her legs withdrawn...
- By Tristan Tzarasenseless here’s the man with the crystal contractions with the rumor of sand with a doll’s past tense...
- By S.J. Fowler & Rebecca KamenSIR, the 28 spheres of Kamen’s harmony Susceptible, inferred, immense, actual - the electron microscopy...
- By Nikki GiovanniThere is a bat In Chile named Micronyteris giovanniae Dr. Robert Baker named it After me. He discovered...
- By John TickhillIn springtime, chief of all seasons, in May when new joys rise and flourish, the sun is lord and messenger...
- By John TickhillIn a sesone of somere þat souerayne ys of alle, Þat was þe myry monþ of May May May is a “somere” month...
- By Beth Ann Fennellyreveals itself in retrospect. Unlike the first, whose March arrival bade you gasp, hands clasped, like...
- By Federico García Lorca1. La cogida y la muerte A las cinco de la tarde. Eran las cinco en punto de la tarde. Un niño trajo...
- By Federico García Lorca1 The Goring and the Death At five in the afternoon At the stroke of five The boy brought the white ...
- By Ted HughesI climbed through woods in the hour-before-dawn dark. Evil air, a frost-making stillness, Not a leaf...