Poem
By Sasha Pearl
I’m in Shartlesville
Eating air-chilled wings in the sleeper cab
I took the contract because the devil…
Eating air-chilled wings in the sleeper cab
I took the contract because the devil…
Category
Travels & Journeys
Showing 1-20 of 1,056 results
- PoemBy Daniel HalpernThe redolence of rose and new road.
The attar of grass, recently cut.
The fish-whiff of anchovy.
The spinning… - PoemBy Robert Browning1.My first thought was, he lied in every word,
That hoary cripple, with malicious eye
Askance to watch… - PoemBy BashōTranslated By Lucien StrykWake, butterfly—
it's late, we've miles
to go together. - PoemBy Shereen AkhtarIn our first house-let in London, she drew on the tablecloth to create
a calligraphic feast. Our friends… - PoemBy Xiao Yue Shan1
listen carefully—there is land or there is water,
and a time where
you may mistake one for another.
there… - PoemBy Li-Young LeeI can hear in your voice
you were born in one country
and will die in another, and where you live is where… - PoemBy Martha SilanoIs this the last time I’ll admire the guys
in their neon-yellow slickers, guiding us
to our parking spots… - PoemBy William Butler YeatsI
That is no country for old men. The young
In one another's arms, birds in the trees,
—Those dying generations—at their song,
The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,
Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long
Whatever is begotten, born, and dies.
Caught in that sensual music... - PoemBy Jorie GrahamThe blades like irises turning very fast to see you completely—steel-blue then red where the cut occurs…
- PoemBy Ada LimónIs 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... - PoemBy CAConrad“this is your
captain” Frank says from the cockpit
“all passengers wishing to bail out
any time during our flight
it
is
too
late
I have shredded the parachutes to confetti
in celebration of our arrival” - PoemBy 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... - PoemBy 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... - PoemBy 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... - ArticleBy Liesl OlsonHarriet Monroe and The Columbian Ode
- ArticleBy Meera AlagarajaWomen’s Rights and Spirituality at the 1893 Chicago World’s Fair
