By Andrew Frisardi
PRIMEAt dawn, the shapes of cypresses in fog
Were fingers pointing up from graves, as if what's born…
Were fingers pointing up from graves, as if what's born…
Explore Poems: Sonnet
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- By Karl KnightsThe zoo is tough terrain; hilly.
I wheel as fast as I can —
then Mum shouts ‘Keep up!’
I stop. ‘Hand me… - By William Butler YeatsA sudden blow: the great wings beating still
Above the staggering girl, her thighs caressed
By the dark webs, her nape caught in his bill,
He holds her helpless breast upon his breast.
How can those terrified vague fingers push
The feathered glory from her... - By Sri ChinmoyUltimately everything
Becomes boring.
Even great miracles
Become boring.
Even the tremendous powers of… - By Jos Charlesits a secrete
the grls speeching mye hole /
inn 2 the lindens / wee go out
& playe footballe / verie nashenallie
how wee leeve a stall / piteus
wen the grls
speech me /
this is how u make a porno / ... - By Rajiv MohabirLook at your feet, so beautiful. Do
not step on the ground, filth will smear them;
your future will fill with pricks. He with a
fearful heart, understand dead. Death will dance
on your head — lift your eyes and see. I am
its servant,... - By Ruth AwadDays of rain. The drey outside my window would keel
and the wind would plunder. My heart was valent
with possibility: I could be anyone now, half woman,
half asterism. Fragmental as a new year. Patron saint
of the rutilant and cindering. I could... - By David TaitA week of autumn snow, and today the sun,
the buildings fizzy with melting, the beggar
draping his sheets over the bank's homeless-spikes.
My daughter runs under the sycamore trees,
shouts look it’s still snowing, it’s still snowing,
clumps of old snow falling around her.
Who... - By James K. BaxterThe wish to climb a ladder to the loft
Of God dies hard in us. The angels Jacob saw
Were not himself. Bramble is what grows best
Out of this man-scarred earth, and I don’t chop it back
Till the fruit have ripened. Yesterday I... - By Shira ErlichmanOh no, I didn’t mean to believe in
the infinite. Now I’m gripping the hand
-lebars like shoulder blades. I’m fucked. The trees,
an unfortunate Thanksgiving table
packed with hot-headed aunts. I’m already
drunk, the wind flossing my tears. What if I
never had another thought?... - 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 William ShakespeareThose lips that Love’s own hand did make
Breathed forth the sound that said “I hate”
To me that languished for her sake;
But when she saw my woeful state,
Straight in her heart did mercy come,
Chiding that tongue that ever sweet
Was used in... - By Michelle Peñalozaanak like a sigh born every day
ilong lead by scent and know-how
tanong asking questions about the world
sayaw like how dance that comes from joy
sayang can sway so close to sorrow
bayan how shame could be an entire country
pinto or an open-doored question
kailangan needing, needful, and needless
ilaw illuminating a path
ikaw to you,... - By Trevor Ketnerbleed bull (lip, hair, spine)—sad candy fad—
anon, i shave a dad, dig a staff into mud,
stir daddylevel dick in hole—figpink sequin
froth—an idol (lunate god of ivy, cunt, anal,
riverdoes, holy bitchwolf, form)—oh whir of
illustrative land—oh sedate eyes, tell
nothing, deny map—chew he-twig,... - By Trevor Ketnertransmisogynists seek hymen lie / “true” he
of her (methodical rip)—rare, red snarls
(boyish hair)—sew wet hernest—the fawn burned
(forehead aglow)—hew sinew, ribs, herb, iris—rack
(shed winterdead horns)—i evade seam, ask
crush to hush (be creeknoises)—seen,
hunter deems doegore ripe filth—miss-name
me (thinnest break / froth)—meaty thrash... - By Countee CullenWherein are words sublime or noble? What
Invests one speech with haloed eminence,
Makes it the sesame for all doors shut,
Yet in its like sees but impertinence?
Is it the hue? Is it the cast of eye,
The curve of lip or Asiatic breath,
Which... - By Countee CullenWe shall not always plant while others reap
The golden increment of bursting fruit,
Not always countenance, abject and mute,
That lesser men should hold their brothers cheap;
Not everlastingly while others sleep
Shall we beguile their limbs with mellow flute,
Not always bend to some... - By Ed Robersontimes even in the grip of trouble
get no less a sunrise than sun is capable
the capable beauty all we have
to expect— to ask more from some incompetent laughs
at the proposition we have trumped all that
from... - By Wo ChanBeauty on earth so blue, even the cheese flowers
a culture with no democracy... Yesterday (for example),
I ate the same sandwich I eat every week: eggplant
roasted in red pepper aioli, a focaccia jammed full
by arugula, capers sweaty in browned butter.... - By Anthony HechtI
The coltish horseplay of the locker room,
Moist with the steam of the tiled shower stalls,
With shameless blends of civet, musk and sweat,
Loud with the cap-gun snapping of wet towels
Under the steel-ribbed cages of bare bulbs,
In some such setting of thick...