By Paula Bohince
Again, an ousted child or orphan happens onto a den.
It happens then. Invitation by faun or badger to…
It happens then. Invitation by faun or badger to…
Explore Poems: Joy & Contentment
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- By Ann-Margaret LimEvery day is perfect, if
when you wake, you hear birds
in the garden, in the yard. Birds
up and down, ushering… - By Jane ZwartWhen death comes, final and novel—
the trick cul-de-sac or burst dam, a door
that opening erases or shutting… - By Daniel HalpernThe redolence of rose and new road.
The attar of grass, recently cut.
The fish-whiff of anchovy.
The spinning… - By Magda PortalTranslated By Kathleen WeaverI'm a sea since I could never have been a river
An unchanneled sea
of green merriments
and solitary depths… - By Henry Wadsworth LongfellowUnder a spreading chestnut-tree
The village smithy stands;
The smith, a mighty man is he,
With large… - By avery r. younga•ver•y (ā ver'ē), n. dark(iss) ¹blk-male chile foundate(id) in luv unlimit(id) fuc(k) anthem(s). ²jee…
- By Robert HaydenAt Dunbar, Castle or Arcade
we rode with the exotic sheik
through deserts of erotic flowers;
held in the… - By William OlsenObservation isn’t serious play. It is living serious. Same heron. It’s used to us, we are as twilight…
- By W. S. MerwinLate in May as the light lengthens
toward summer the young goldfinches
flutter down through the day for… - By Arvind Krishna MehrotraSet with raindrops, displayed
between the king’s mantle and the litchi tree,
was the cobweb I almost walked… - By James JoyceHe travels after a winter sun,
Urging the cattle along a cold red road,
Calling to them, a voice they … - By James JoyceFrail the white rose and frail are
Her hands that gave
Whose soul is sere and paler
Than time's wan wave… - By Thomas TraherneI saw new Worlds beneath the Water ly,
New Peeple; yea, another Sky
And Sun, which seen by Day
Might things… - By 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... - By 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...
- By George Oppen11 River of our substance
Flowing
With the rest. River of the substance
Of the earth's curve, river of … - By Rev. Robin G. WhiteThe 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... - By 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... - By David RoderickI 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...