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Showing 1-20 of 48,472 poems
- By Kate Aschethe sac
itself wasclear
and I cleaned itlike a window
and in the windowsaw my baby
our baby[birdlike
mouth opennasalarea still
oversizedlike a beak]eye’s aperture blue-black
head thrownbackand twisted beginning
to separateneck brok
en in the contractions’violencetwo arms
two legstailbone translucent... [whatcolor is
the baby?]silent heart [sac contains“chorionic cavity”]
with utmost tendernessI... - By Catherine WagnerTranslated By Shoshana Olidortsnow brings restraint
and takes you by the arm:
snow’s religious, morals over
the landscape, relaxes
with… - By Angela JacksonBefore you
There was none so high
Minded,
So elegantly eloquent.
You were high standing
Fruit.
The … - By Justin DanzyNo wrought iron bars like the door at my Aunt Cherry’s house
on the East Side, her husband Ben always… - By R. L. SwihartTranslated By Nora Brooks BlakelyThe young man says, “Alan can
do anything he wants”
“Not fly,” I say
The young man returns
a puzzled look… - By Cornelius EadyI’m here
to tell you
an old story.
This
Appears to be
my work.
I live
in the world,
Walk
the streets… - By Karisma PriceThe Realization of a Negro's Ambition requires melatonin & the soft dying body of a monkey face orchid.
The brilliant strangeness of watching everyone not you grow comfortable with themselves.
Trying to rehabilitate one or multiple racists.
Learning death does not fear you.
I... - 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 Toi DerricotteWhen relatives came from out of town,
we would drive down to Blackbottom,
drive slowly down the congested… - By Cornelius EadySome folks will tell you the blues is a woman,
Some type of supernatural creature.
My mother would tell… - By Sri ChinmoyWithin, without the cosmos wide am I;
In joyful sweep I loose forth and draw back all.
A birthless, deathless… - By Corey Van Landinghamwas, according to Virgil, always a fickle, unstable thing. Woman. Wyf. Merger of wife and man. To indicate: not-girl. Not-yet-claimed, not-yet weeping. And aren’t they often weeping? The mother, tearing her hair out, running toward the battle lines, filling heaven...
- By Bertrand N. O. WalkerHush thee and sleep, little one,
The feathers on thy board sway to and fro;
The shadows reach far downward… - By Bertrand N. O. WalkerLonely, open, vast and free,
The dark’ning desert lies;
The wind sweeps o’er it fiercely,
And the yellow… - By Bertrand N. O. WalkerFor ages long, my people have been
Dwellers in this land;
For ages viewed these mountains,
Loved these… - By Suzanne RancourtI can remember my father bringing home spruce gum.
He worked in the woods and filled his pockets
with … - By Ama CodjoeI don’t like being photographed. When we kissed
at a wedding, the night grew long and luminous.
You unhooked my bra. A photograph
passes for proof, Sontag says, that a given thing
has happened. Or you leaned back to watch
as I eased the straps... - By Li-Young LeeSad is the man who is asked for a story
and can’t come up with one.
His five-year-old son waits in his lap.
Not the same story, Baba. A new one.
The man rubs his chin, scratches his ear.
In a room full of books...