Poem
By Heidi Williamson
You’re fifteen and nowhere in a town on the edge of pitiful lands stripped of fruit. The burger van’…
Category
Youth
Showing 1-20 of 395 results
- PoemBy Kate PartridgeThe dentist is now the same
age as me, which is troubling,
mostly because of what I
have and have not done… - PoemBy Joshua BennettFor the sake of argument, let’s say
the day my father outlawed all contact
between backhand and face, … - PoemBy Mitchell GlazierStiletto melon collies, a tinsel mystic streaks our homeplace.
Lantern flies triple from the sleeping… - PoemBy Sarah CarsonThe first gun we knew came in a toolbox for the apocalypse: hammer, barrel, crushed can, pack of Newports…
- PoemBy Anastasia Taylor-Lindv.
Isn’t it dangerous to be a woman? Surrounded by men, questions
about risk-taking, parenting (I’m childless… - PoemBy Tamsin MooreLong, empty roads stretching as long as the gas tank is willing—
Sixty-seven dollars left from last … - PoemBy Karl KnightsIt’s Boxing Day and I’m nearly ten and a half.
I got the camouflaged Action Man for Christmas.
I told … - PoemBy Louise ErdrichAugust and the drive-in picture is packed.
We lounge on the hood of the Pontiac
surrounded by the slow… - PoemBy Robert HaydenAt Dunbar, Castle or Arcade
we rode with the exotic sheik
through deserts of erotic flowers;
held in the… - PoemBy Karl KnightsThe zoo is tough terrain; hilly.
I wheel as fast as I can —
then Mum shouts ‘Keep up!’
I stop. ‘Hand me… - PoemBy Petr HruškaTranslated By Jonathan BoltonTrue darkness is in a child’s bedroom. Deep black.
Elsewhere there’s just a meager, watery twilight… - PoemBy Sholeh WolpéTall, stiff and spiny.
Try to make it to the other side
and risk savage thorns.
We who left home in our… - PoemBy Ada LimónMy brother holds a snake by its head. The whole
length of the snake is the length
of my brother’s body. The snake’s head
is held safely, securely, as if my brother
is showing him something in the distant high grass.
I... - PoemBy Xiao Yue ShanI could tell you this: marigolds are a night flower.
in the hour of my birth there were men in the streets… - PoemBy Suzanne S. RancourtI can remember my father bringing home spruce gum.
He worked in the woods and filled his pockets
with …