By Alice Oswald
It's a rush, a sploosh of sewage, twenty thousand cubic metres being pumped in, stirred and settled …
Explore Poems: Dramatic Monologue
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- By David RoderickI wear a flower in my lapel.
I like the sweetness of its lie in my nose.
A carnation, the fool’s flower,
its heart a wilting empire.
In late-night editing sessions,
I imagine I’m planting flowers
in the sockets of eyes. Whatever helps
me reach our rigor... - By Lorine NiedeckerNothing worth noting
except an Andromeda
with quadrangular shoots—
the boots
of the people
wet inside: they must swim
to church thru the floods
or be taxed—the blossoms
from the bosoms
of the leaves
*
Fog-thick morning—
I see only
where I now walk. I carry
my clarity
with me.
*
Hear
where her snow-grave is
the You
ah you
of... - By Anne SextonChild, the current of your breath is six days long.
You lie, a small knuckle on my white bed;
lie, fisted like a snail, so small and strong
at my breast. Your lips are animals; you are fed
with love. At first hunger is... - By Anne SextonIt was only important
to smile and hold still,
to lie down beside him
and to rest awhile,
to be folded up together
as if we were silk,
to sink from the eyes of mother
and not to talk.
The black room took us
like a cave or a... - By Marilyn NelsonOur love still young, our marriage new,
Robert and I ...- Love
- Heartache & Loss
- Social Commentaries
- Race & Ethnicity
- History & Politics
- Living
- Death
- Parenthood
- Sorrow & Grieving
- The Mind
- Doubt & Contemplation
- Relationships
- Family & Ancestors
- Men & Women
- Arts & Sciences
- Painting & Sculpture
- Types/Modes
- Concrete or Pattern Poetry
- Dramatic Monologue
- Anger
- Anxiety & Insecurity
- Disappointment
- Grief
- Melancholy & Despair
- + 17 more
- By Joyce Carol OatesI was Little Albert.
Nine months old in the famous film.
In a white cotton nightie, on a lab
table sitting upright
facing a camera.
Remember me? Sure.
You do.
First, you saw that I was a “curious” baby.
You saw that I blinked and stared
with all the... - By Mona Van DuynI was out last night,
the very picture of a sneak, dark and hunched-over,
breaking and entering again.
Why do I do it?
And why, when I can afford serious residences,
do I keep to this one room?
Perhaps if I had not lost track of... - By Langston HughesMy name is Johnson—
Madam Alberta K.
The Madam stands for business.
I’m smart that way.
I had a
HAIR-DRESSING PARLOR
Before
The depression put
The prices lower.
Then I had a
BARBECUE STAND
Till I got mixed up
With a no-good man.
Cause I had a insurance
The WPA
Said, We can’t use you
Wealthy... - By R. T. SmithTwo nights he came to me, mute,
on fire, no dream. I woke to find
the window embered and fog filling
the willows. The third time
he was milder and early, his gray form
all ash. He said to me at bedside, kneeling,
“You must say... - By Donald RevellThe bar in the commuter stationThe Title: "The Northeast Corridor" In his book The Art of Attention: A Poet’s Eye (2007), Revell called it “a title taken from newspeak and describing that cindery ganglion of railways between Boston to the...
- By Louise ErdrichYou knew I was coming for you, little one,
when the kettle jumped into the fire.
Towels flapped on the hooks,
and the dog crept off, groaning,
to the deepest part of the woods.
In the hackles of dry brush a thin laughter started up.
Mother... - By Delmore SchwartzWhen I fall asleep, and even during sleep,
I hear, quite distinctly, voices speaking
Whole phrases, commonplace and trivial,
Having no relation to my affairs.
Dear Mother, is any time left to us
In which to be happy? My debts are immense.
My bank account is... - By Ishmael ReedMy Dear Khomeini:
I read your fourteen thousand dollar
ad asking me why the Vatican waited
all of these years to send an envoy
to complain about conditions in Iran
You’re right, we should have sent one
when the Shah was in power, look,
I’m in total... - By Rudyard KiplingYou may talk o’ gin and beer
When you’re quartered safe out ’ere,
An’ you’re sent to penny-fights an’ Aldershot it;
But when it comes to slaughter
You will do your work on water,
An’ you’ll lick the bloomin’ boots of ’im that’s got it.
Now... - By Louise ErdrichThey say I am excitable! How could
I not scream? The Swiss monk’s tonsure
spun till it blurred yet his eyes were still.
I snapped my gaiter, hard, to stuff back
my mirth. Lords, he then began to speak.
Indus catarum, he said, presenting the... - By Louise ErdrichThis is Tarsus, one place like anyplace else.
And this is my circuit, the rodeo, fair.
The farmboys blow through here in pickups, wild
as horses in their oat sacks.
The women wear spurs.
In the trailers the cattle are pounding for air.
My room is... - By Jane KenyonI am the blossom pressed in a book,
found again after two hundred years. . . .
I am the maker, the lover, and the keeper....
When the young girl who starves
sits down to a table
she will sit beside me. . . .
I... - By Larry LevisFrères humains qui après nous vivez,
Soon they’ll have the speed freak twisting
On a scaffold, soon the birds
Will come to peck out his eyes, & when
He’s too weak & exhausted to turn
His head away, they’ll do it, too,
They’ll peck his eyes right... - By Louise GlückDon’t listen to me; my heart’s been broken.
I don’t see anything objectively.
I know myself; I’ve learned to hear like a psychiatrist.
When I speak passionately,
that’s when I’m least to be trusted.
It’s very sad, really: all my life, I’ve been praised
for my...