By Molly Fisk
Yesterday I was so lonely
I could barely walk,
my friend being mobbed
by her grandchildren
as we made…
I could barely walk,
my friend being mobbed
by her grandchildren
as we made…
Explore Poems: Melancholy & Despair
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- By Anders Carlson-WeeI know you’re hungry for it.
More money. More news. Desperate
for any laurel that parades you
as happier… - By Don Domanski*
clouds creak in the sky
herons creak in the sky.
*
the dark approaches itself
from all sides once again… - By Cameron Awkward-RichI wake up & it breaks my heart. I draw the blinds & the thrill of rain breaks my heart. I go outside…
- By Tilsa OttaTranslated By Farid MatukI saw a herd of toads in the gully of my reflection
Staring at each other arguing over insects
It wasn… - By Tilsa OttaVi una manada de sapos mirándose entre ellos
Discutiendo insectos en el cauce de mi reflejo
No fue rom… - By K. IverYou’ve never seen a lilac in Mississippi.
Backstage you wear lotion laced with
its chemical imitation. A ballet mistress
says relevé always as command: lift
onto the toe using only the heel.
Your ankle’s bewilderment
old as the horned owl gaze from
your mother hunched in the... - By Georg TraklAt evening they bore the stranger into the death parlor;
a scent of tar; the faint rustling of red sycamores;
the dark flight of jackdaws; guard was set up on the square.
The sun has sunk into black linen; again and again this... - By Tristan TzaraTranslated By Heather Greensenseless here’s the man with the crystal contractions
with the rumor of sand with a doll’s past tense
at the hollow step in a bed of distress
nevertheless present at the passage of spring spring Tristan Tzara wrote this poem during the summer of... - By J. V. CunninghamI am no shepherd of a child’s surmises.
I have seen fear where the coiled serpent rises,
Thirst where the grasses burn in early May
And thistle, mustard, and the wild oat stay.
There is dust in this air. I saw in the heat
Grasshoppers... - By William BlakeSweet Mary, the first time she ever was there,
Came into the Ball room among the Fair;
The young Men & Maidens around her throng,
And these are the words upon every tongue:
“An Angel is here from the heavenly Climes,
Or again does return... - By 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
... - By Victoria ChangJan.4.2022
A call is just a call. I pick it up.
Jan.6.2022
I lift blankets looking for my father.
Jan.7.2022
When I take off the patch, your eye is gone.
I spend the day in other people’s tears.
Jan.9.2022
Someone says your eyelid almost came off,
the doctors tried... - By Shanta LeeMama birthed me, Papa sold me in the land of weeping willows
Traces of sin trail miles across skin, I go by Never Forget
My body’s evidence of daddy’s pestilence spread across the land
His sin traces my skin, a path never forgotten
Nameless,... - By Natalie ShaperoGod come on stop cutting me
out of your photos God stop dragging
the mouse around my shopworn
body like a chalk outline then clicking fill
with background God I know
that times are tight I know you only
made one death per person I’m sorry
to... - By Rachel Tzvia BackIn the capital the women are fasting.
50 days for the 50 day war
in a white tent on burning pavement
outside the prime minister’s residence.
Mid-afternoon heat seals them in
its unforgiving. Crouching beside them
all the while, the broad-backed presence
of absent sons, until they... - By Elizabeth TheriotHead tilted back, eyes to the light, I squeeze single tears of moisturizer from the glass jar: forehead, cheek, cheek, a cross, martyr mystic blessing that promises to unblemish me.
//
After the hospital everyone brought facemask sheets. In meager bursts of... - By T. S. EliotApeneck Sweeney spread his knees
Letting his arms hang down to laugh,
The zebra stripes along his jaw
Swelling to maculate giraffe.
The circles of the stormy moon
Slide westward toward the River Plate,
Death and the Raven drift above
And Sweeney guards the hornèd gate.
Gloomy Orion... - By T. S. EliotWebster was much possessed by death
And saw the skull beneath the skin;
And breastless creatures under ground
Leaned backward with a lipless grin.
Daffodil bulbs instead of balls
Stared from the sockets of the eyes!
He knew that thought clings round dead limbs
Tightening its lusts... - By Evie ShockleyAnd now, reader, I come to a period in my unhappy life, which I would gladly forget if I could. Asia Graves looks straight ahead as she calmly recalls the night a man paid $200 on a Boston...