By Li-Young Lee
Another word for father is worry.
Worry boils the water
for tea in the middle of the night.
Worry trimmed…
Worry boils the water
for tea in the middle of the night.
Worry trimmed…
Explore Poems: Relationships
Showing 1-20 of 5,514 poems
- By Randall MannFirst I want to thank you all for coming,
for standing so patiently in line.
I know these are difficult… - By Karen HoulePulling the foreign body off me— out of the dress up over my arms through the neckhole—
he says, You… - By Sharon OldsBut I love the I, steel I-beam
that my father sold. They poured the pig iron
into the mold, and it fed out slowly,
a bending jelly in the bath, and it hardened,
Bessemer, blister, crucible, alloy, and he
marketed it, and bought bourbon, and... - By Richard BlancoAfter my third shot of tequila / chased by a lime
sour as my rant: fuck this-fuck that-fuck them-fuck… - By heidi andrea restrepo rhodesI: My beloved is called an inconceivable beast, a spectacle diagnosed with teratoid genitalia, a chaos…
- By Darrel Alejandro HolnesThis love dares not speak its name
in some states
until your eyes say it
on a beach in Ft. Lauderdale… - By Elise PaschenLily Gladstone confides she wore my great
grandmother Eliza’s blankets in three scenes.
I don’t remember… - By Elise PaschenDuring the Grayhorse
Dances in June,
my mother side-stepped
around the circle,
echoing moves
her grandmother… - By Karl KnightsIt’s Boxing Day and I’m nearly ten and a half.
I got the camouflaged Action Man for Christmas.
I told … - By Karl KnightsYou left a note.
‘Please don’t judge me
too harshly.’ I read it
at your memorial.
I hate that my voice
didn… - By Molly FiskYesterday I was so lonely
I could barely walk,
my friend being mobbed
by her grandchildren
as we made… - By Li-Young LeeWhen the big clock at the train station stopped,
the leaves kept falling,
the trains kept running,
my mother… - By Li-Young LeeAnd when, in the city in which I love you,
even my most excellent song goes unanswered,
and I mount the… - By Rita Dovelate, in aqua and ermine, gardenias
scaling her left sleeve in a spasm of scent,
her gloves white, her… - By Tilsa OttaTranslated By Farid MatukA nightclub doesn’t make a summer
I believe more in perreo
Play everlasting
In the agitation of a critical… - By Karen HouleOne man and one woman park the government Jeep
on the gravel shoulder of the Grand River watershed.
Paired… - By William Butler YeatsI
Swear by what the Sages spoke
Round the Mareotic Lake
That the Witch of Atlas knew,
Spoke and set the cocks a-crow.
Swear by those horsemen, by those women,
Complexion and form prove superhuman,
That pale, long visaged company
That airs an immortality
Completeness of their passions won;
Now... - By Yasmine AmeliSa’id goes missing. Forty years later, my mama tells me his poems got into the wrong hands. It is the…
- By Yasmine AmeliIn another story, my baba bozorg paints flowers. He is little. His name Amir means shah, but the shah…