By Sasha Dugdale
The downs are certainly lovely, although by mortal loveliness
did you mean they would disappear one day…
did you mean they would disappear one day…
Explore Poems: War & Conflict
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- By Jayne CortezHarsh Cries From
The Tomb Of
Little Rock
Blown In The Soul
Of The Pyramids
Where The Sphinx
Keep Watch… - By Lev RubinsteinTranslated By Philip Metres1
Now here I am! 2
So… 3
So here I am… 4
(Where have you been?
We’d given up all hope…) 5
So… 6
So … - By Saeed JonesThe end of the world was mistaken
for just another midday massacre
in America. Brain matter and broken… - By Edward SalemI sat up in bed with my legs crossed
for too long, and when they started prickling
and feeling heavy, I felt like I could begin
to understand Jesus’s suffering.
I drove to a largely empty Jerusalem.
Almost a thousand years ago, rows of soldiers
had... - By Edward SalemThe Dome of the Rock was on fire, I thought. I saw people running out, shouting and fighting as smoke obscured the entrance. A long jet of water sprayed through the air—to put out the fire, I thought—then I smelled...
- By Edward SalemThe dead Palestinian brother. I have lost
each of you, my personal friend and
sister and glass of cold water.
My firm hand gropes for
frozen rocks in the night.
I just want to sleep.
In the nightmare,
I slap your dead foreheads
with my blue and gold... - By Edward SalemAcross the suffocating blackness, the waveless water
and a broad hush in the indecipherable wind,
Jordan’s hills were obscured by the night.
Sitting on the clumpy sand, I convinced myself
I could make out a few hills like bloated storm clouds,
a voidal Jordan on... - By Cyrus Console
Rotor wash, or the downward-flowing
Air by which our helicopters formed
Imprints in the jungle grass beneath
Now stands effectively for Vietnam
Because our understanding of that war
Omitted many things but not the wind
We bowed our heads and fled. In this case we
Refers effectively... - By Georg TraklAt evening autumn forests drone
With deadly weapons, the golden plains
And the blue lakes, above which somberly
The sun rolls down. The night
Embraces dying warriors, the wild laments
Of their shattered mouths.
But in the willow valley silently
The outspilled blood collects, red clouds
In which... - By Abhijit Sarmahmother hopes to tell me more about
tree-root trails, melodies woven out of winds
roaring down our ricefields on winter afternoons
& the soft pattering of a dying fawn’s hooves.
it’s a rainy night in her city of flaking frescos,
the last lot of bulbuls... - 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 H.D.Over and back,
the long waves crawl
and track the sand with foam;
night darkens and the sea
takes on that desperate tone
of dark that wives put on
when all their love is done.
Over and back,
the tangled thread falls slack,
over and up and on;
over and... - By Aria AberOver Skype, I try to document my mother’s
bald-shaved youth—she has a surplus in truths,
and science has proven what it had to prove:
every helicopter-screech I dreamed of was my mother’s first.
Rippling my dumb hand, I wake up in childhood’s crypt,
where prayer... - By Layli Long SoldierHere, the sentence will be respected.
I will compose each sentence with care, by minding what the rules of writing dictate.
For example, all sentences will begin with capital letters.
Likewise, the history of the sentence will be honored by ending each one... - By Yuri AndrukhovychTranslated By John Hennessy & Ostap KinBut Ukraine is a country of the baroque.
Traveling through it is a pleasure for the eye.
And that’s why the temptation to obliterate everything
is so strong. And no matter how far you travel
you see the consequences: dilapidated walls and houses
maybe from... - By Yuri AndrukhovychУкраїна ж—це країна бароко.
Мандрувати нею—для ока втіха.
І тому западає спокуса в око:
зруйнувати все. І скільки б ти їхав,
бачиш наслідки: мури і житла хворі
ще, мабуть, від турків. І п’ятикутні
знаки. З криниць повтікали зорі,
тобто їх нема, криниці відсутні,
але є сліди, і це... - By Ahmad Almallahthe world is not as bad as our
neighbors
made it to be that day—
we’ve seen worse days—
and how beautiful
they were, these days... - By Rickey LaurentiisBecause I should’ve wrote this years ago, I’m crying. So what my slow failure pass the years
Make me be crying. So what in Bethlehem I tried to push so much against it, where the Wall is checkpoint... - By BazeedIn the hiding
hour of autophagy
ghosts hang out all day and talk to us.
An archival haunting demanding tribute:
half a lime for breakfast every day.
بشرٌ يئنّونَ من الألمِ
human voices keening in pain
تُشعلُ أجسادَهُمَ النارُ
their bodies, consumed by fire
light up the...