By Charles Reznikoff
This was a season of our fathers' joy:
not only when they gathered grapes and the fruit of trees
in Israel…
not only when they gathered grapes and the fruit of trees
in Israel…
Explore Poems: Time & Brevity
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- By Li-Young LeeLi-Young, don’t feel lonely
when you look up
into great night and find
yourself the far face peering
hugely… - By William Butler YeatsThe light of evening, Lissadell,
Great windows open to the south,
Two girls in silk kimonos, both
Beautiful, one a gazelle.
But a raving autumn shears
Blossom from the summer's wreath;
The older is condemned to death,
Pardoned, drags out lonely years
Conspiring among the ignorant.
I know not... - By William Butler YeatsThe unpurged images of day recede;
The Emperor's drunken soldiery are abed;
Night resonance recedes, night-walkers' song
After great cathedral gong;
A starlit or a moonlit dome disdains
All that man is,
All mere complexities,
The fury and the mire of human veins.
Before me floats an image,... - By William Butler YeatsI
I walk through the long schoolroom questioning;
A kind old nun in a white hood replies;
The children learn to cipher and to sing,
To study reading-books and history,
To cut and sew, be neat in everything
In the best modern way—the children's eyes
In momentary... - By Milan DěžinskýTranslated By Nathan FieldsIt is sixty-five years since Hiroshima,
they write. Should one cup a handful of water from a river,
there… - By Brenda HillmanHaving stopped using dolphins to locate explosives in the Cold War
they had 30 leftover dolphins.
An officer… - By W. S. MerwinLate in May as the light lengthens
toward summer the young goldfinches
flutter down through the day for… - By James JoyceFrail the white rose and frail are
Her hands that gave
Whose soul is sere and paler
Than time's wan wave… - By Julia FiedorczukTranslated By Bill JohnstonFrom within my bodily singularity
I play at sending out gentle sunbeams.
I don't believe in myself, 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 party and the seed on the ground the afterparty.) I am getting so good at watching that...
- By Tilsa OttaUna estrella cayó al suelo y rebotó en la sombra del sol
Evoco esta escena cuando me asaltan temores … - By Tilsa OttaTranslated By Farid MatukA star fell to the ground and bounced in the shadow of the sun
I think of this scene when I’m taken by… - By CAConradFrank is a
young boy
asleep in
ancient
Tibet
what you
thought was
your life is
really his
dream
he may
wake at any
moment - By CAConradFrank’s sister grew long blue feathers
she said it was worse than cutting teeth
she spent a month screaming in the cave
pushing them out
Frank would lie in bed at night
touching his own back
crying
praying it wouldn’t
come to him
but the day his sister flew... - By Cole Swensena river slips
in shifting leaves
sifting. a river sifts
and falls to pieces
in which not seen
... - By Paisley RekdalHow horrible it is, how horrible
that Cronenberg film where Goldblum’s trapped
with a fly inside his Material
Transformer: bits of the man emerging
gooey, many-eyed; bits of the fly
worrying that his agent’s screwed him—
I almost flinch to see the body later
that’s left its... - By Richard BlancoQue será, el café of this holy, incorporated place,
the wild steam of scorched espresso cakes rising
like mirages from the aromatic waste, waving
over the coffee-glossed lips of these faces
assembled for a standing breakfast of nostalgia,
of tastes that swirl with the delicacy... - By Jean ValentineThe hornet holds on to the curtain, winter
sleep. Rubs her legs. Climbs the curtain.
Behind her the cedars sleep lightly,
like guests. But I am the guest.
The ghost cars climb the ghost highway. Even my hand
over the page adds to the ‘room... - By Sally Wen MaoIn Santa Monica, the sunrise has this way of emptying
everything inside you. I visit my future deathbed.
It’s February 1961, and I watch myself sleep.
Dawn: outside my window, date palms sway and lovers
in blue Corvettes make their morning getaways.
There will never...