Category

Joy & Contentment

Showing 1-20 of 1,185 results
  • Poem
    By Magda Portal
    Translated By Kathleen Weaver
    I'm a sea since I could never have been a river
    An unchanneled sea
    of green merriments
    and solitary depths…
  • Poem
    By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
    Under a spreading chestnut-tree
        ⁠The village smithy stands;
    The smith, a mighty man is he,
        With large…
  • Poem
    By avery r. young
    a•ver•y (ā ver'ē), n. dark(iss) ¹blk-male chile foundate(id) in luv unlimit(id) fuc(k) anthem(s). ²jee…
  • Poem
    By Robert Hayden
    At Dunbar, Castle or Arcade
    we rode with the exotic sheik
    through deserts of erotic flowers;
    held in the…
  • Poem
    By William Olsen
    Observation isn’t serious play. It is living serious. Same heron. It’s used to us, we are as twilight…
  • Poem
    By W. S. Merwin
    Late in May as the light lengthens
    toward summer the young goldfinches
    flutter down through the day for…
  • Poem
    By James Joyce
    He travels after a winter sun,
    Urging the cattle along a cold red road,
    Calling to them, a voice they …
  • Poem
    By James Joyce
    Frail the white rose and frail are
    Her hands that gave
    Whose soul is sere and paler
    Than time's wan wave…
  • Poem
    By Thomas Traherne
    I saw new Worlds beneath the Water ly,
    New Peeple; yea, another Sky
    And Sun, which seen by Day
    Might things…
  • Poem
    By Ada Limón
    Is it okay to begin with the obvious? I am full of stones—
                is it okay not to look out this window, but to look out another?

    A mentor once said, You can't start a poem...
  • Poem
    By Ada Limón
    I 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...
  • Poem
    By George Oppen
    11 River of our substance
    Flowing
    With the rest. River of the substance
    Of the earth's curve, river of …
  • Poem

    poetry-magazine

    Meta

    By Rev. Robin G. White
    The feel of a much needed hug in a moment of sorrow
    An unexpected helping hand from the stranger
    The curl of the tiniest of fingers wrapped trustingly around your own
    A gentle breeze on the cusp of Autumn
    And the way a leaf...
  • Poem

    poetry-magazine

    the black dykes at 40

    By R. Erica Doyle
    letting  the words fly like smoke uncurling from our mouths
    we lie in bed with dykes ten years our junior, make
    pot heaps to share, sleep in the same flannel sheets,
    plot colored artist collaborations underground and not top 40,
    draw the constellations from...
  • Poem
    By David Roderick
    I wear a flower in my lapel.
    I like the sweetness of its lie in my nose.
    A carnation, the fool’s flower,

    its heart a wilting empire.
    In late-night editing sessions,
    I imagine I’m planting flowers

    in the sockets of eyes. Whatever helps
    me reach our rigor...
  • Poem

    poetry-magazine

    Stunt Double

    By Tomás Q. Morín
    In this life, there are stars
    and there are stunt doubles.

    Before I became one of those fathers
    obsessed with memorizing his lines,
    making peace with the Big Director
    in the sky who doesn’t like ad libs,
    before all that, I was the star
    of my own...
  • Poem
    By Amy M. Alvarez
    Naturally, broken glass, throbbing bass, a roll of bills and a paper bag passed between the hands of hustlers. Just as true: the rows of corn planted by the family at the end of the street. Even in this leaded...
  • Poem
    By J. V. Cunningham
    You are the problem I propose,
    My dear, the text my musings glose:
    I call you for convenience love.
    By definition you’re a cause
    Inferred by necessary laws—
    You are so to the saints above.
    But in this shadowy lower life
    I sleep with a terrestrial wife
    And...
  • Poem
    By Kiki Petrosino
    So I lean back & Redford asks, “Water warm enough?”
    & I don’t answer because I’m holding my breath.
    I don't know why he asks.
    He never uses the faucet to shampoo my afro—just an old clay jar.
    Redford fills the jar at the...
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