Poem
By J. Allyn Rosser
smiling at far end of table with friends I don’t know
newly wedded NYC looking down
taking turns holding…
newly wedded NYC looking down
taking turns holding…
Category
Midlife
Showing 1-20 of 171 results
- PoemBy Joanna KlinkWoken again, this time by wings
scraping the air to pitch the warbler’s
heft from its tree. Its perch… - AudioPoetry Off the ShelfLauren K. Watel on blooming late, showing off, and the question of what's for dinner.
- PoemBy Shane McCraeThe joke you hear today you’ll hear
Again next year again each ev-
ery birthday after for the first… - PoemBy Brenda HillmanHaving stopped using dolphins to locate explosives in the Cold War
they had 30 leftover dolphins.
An officer… - PoemBy 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...
- PoemBy Richard SikenDriving, dogs barking, how you get used to it, how you make
the new streets… - PoemBy R. Erica Doyleletting 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... - PoemBy Corey ZellerWe spend the evening listening to folk songs from the early 2000s. Make a stew. Cut carrots the color of Halloween or your brother’s nail polish. Rib eye and onions. Oyster mushrooms dug out of the earth by some guy...
- PoemBy John TickhillIn a sesone of somere þat souerayne ys of alle,
Þat was þe myry monþ of May when many myrthys spryng,
Þe sonne ys somnore and syre and sendyth tyl vs doun,
And byddyth vs bisy for to be oure bodys for to glade;
Man for to myrth hym in al maner wys,
Bestys for to buske ham on bentys tyl abyde, - PoemBy Beth Ann Fennellyreveals itself in retrospect. Unlike the first,
whose March arrival bade you gasp, hands clasped,
like a child actor instructed to show joy, when the last
departs for points south, there’s no telling,
and no tell. Well, so what? You know their cycle.
In August,... - PoemBy A. Van JordanLately, my friends ask me, out of love,
have I written about my mother,
who suffers under the storm of Alzheimer’s disease,
and I tell them, “I don’t write about my family,
never directly, at least.” To write this poem seems so
out of character... - PoemBy Anni LiuHe takes me, his adult child swaddled in foreignness, to the southern provinces.
Opaque scenes unfold, here among people with whom I once belonged.
We walk streets lined with vendors and dappled plane trees.
Everything I reach for, he buys.
I record each parting hour... - PoemBy W. S. Di PieroThe city budget squads have trimmed its hours.
“You can’t get in, just go home why don’t you.”
I couldn’t tell how old she was.
Chalky braids crisscrossed her head;
the trenchcoat bunched around her waist
like paper flowers, her bare legs
streaked pink.
She held a... - PoemBy Anne SextonI was thinking of a son.
The womb is not a clock
nor a bell tolling,
but in the eleventh month of its life
I feel the November
of the body as well as of the calendar.
In two days it will be my birthday
and as... - PoemBy John ClareAnd what is Life?—An hour-glass on the run,
A Mist retreating from the morning sun,
A busy, bustling, still repeated dream;
Its length?—A minute's pause, a moment's thought;
And happiness?—A bubble on the stream,
That in the act of seizing shrinks to nought.
What... - PoemBy Christian WimanAll my friends are finding new beliefs.
This one converts to Catholicism and this one to trees.
In a highly literary and hitherto religiously-indifferent Jew
God whomps on like a genetic generator.
Paleo, Keto, Zone, South Beach, Bourbon.
Exercise regimens so extreme she merges with...