Poems
Poem of The Day
By Nikki Giovanni
childhood remembrances are always a drag
if you’re Black
you always remember things like living in Woodlawn
with no inside toilet
and if you become famous or something
they never talk about how happy you were to have
your mother
all to yourself and
how good the water...
if you’re Black
you always remember things like living in Woodlawn
with no inside toilet
and if you become famous or something
they never talk about how happy you were to have
your mother
all to yourself and
how good the water...
Poem of The Day
By Ann-Margaret Lim
Every day is perfect, if
when you wake, you hear birds
in the garden, in the yard. Birds
up and down, ushering in one more day
in all the houses on Shaker Way. Birds
on telephone lines, light posts. Birds
twit, twittering on trees
hailing fellow birds
with a nod of beak—gray kingbird;
top-hatted, streamertail
tuxedoed, doctor bird—
busy-bodied…
when you wake, you hear birds
in the garden, in the yard. Birds
up and down, ushering in one more day
in all the houses on Shaker Way. Birds
on telephone lines, light posts. Birds
twit, twittering on trees
hailing fellow birds
with a nod of beak—gray kingbird;
top-hatted, streamertail
tuxedoed, doctor bird—
busy-bodied…
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Glossary Terms
An occasional verse form, usually in celebration of a wedding.
Poem Guides
Poem GuideBy Joshua WeinerTouch, risk, trust, improvisation—“the intellect as powerhouse of love.”
Poem GuideBy Kazim AliThe poet shines a bright new light on Lucifer, who answers God in a whirlwind of verse.
From the Poetry Magazine Archive
- PoemBy Destiny O. Birdsongthe women, small and neat,
top each other like
slices of wonder bread.
when she and i
finally meet,
we knead each other—
fresh dough—
adjusting our
rehearsed finger-tread.
outside, magnolias
cup their sepals
like good hands.
inside, we spade
like leaves: tenderly,
and only at each other’s bidding.
when my sister
stopped speaking to me,
what... - PoemBy Timothy LiuComing back
from the ski trip
in the back of a van,
it had gotten dark
enough for
the steady hum
of the engine
to lull us all
into a deep sleep—
my best friend
and I having
the backseat
all to ourselves.
Have you ever felt
your body starting
to lean toward
its truest
intentions—head
hoping hard
for... - PoemBy Bruce SniderShe lip-syncs “Hello God,” then “9 to 5.”
She struts. Or does she fly? Like the soul,
a rhinestone, she tells us, will never die.
She’s a blush-pink Bible. Patched together,
she’s a cosmic doll. Mirror of a mirror,
she winks, her face the only...
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Erasure Poetry
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Ode
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Epithalamion
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New York School
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Tanka