By Max Fischer
Taking off my clothes
feels like peeling off parts of
myself as if I’m a butterfly
with its wings sheared…
feels like peeling off parts of
myself as if I’m a butterfly
with its wings sheared…
Explore Poems: The Body
Showing 1-20 of 1,842 poems
- By Amelia LoefflerYou might be wondering how I got here:
red handed, pants down, under the bleachers
by the football field… - By Shubhi SahniDownload the descriptive transcript
You’ll wake up in the middle of the night with
shooting pain
Your … - By Martha SilanoBecause why not? Why not take the smashed pinecone
of my life, render it in purple? Why not dream of… - By Martha SilanoIs this the last time I’ll admire the guys
in their neon-yellow slickers, guiding us
to our parking spots… - By Carmen Calatayudmy body at the water’s edge of opioid comfort
under the brain’s night sky
rounding the blue curve … - By Rigoberto GonzálezI’m consuming myself,
my doctor says, and I get
the urge each time I lift
a fork. How it rattles
with… - By Karl KnightsYou left a note.
‘Please don’t judge me
too harshly.’ I read it
at your memorial.
I hate that my voice
didn… - By Karl KnightsIt’s Boxing Day and I’m nearly ten and a half.
I got the camouflaged Action Man for Christmas.
I told … - It leaves a mark on me when I fall
in my father's kitchen.
Only a few days it's been
of lifting him up … - By William Butler Yeats'Because I am mad about women
I am mad about the hills,'
Said that wild old wicked man
Who travels where God wills.
'Not to die on the straw at home,
Those hands to close the eyes,
That is all I ask, my dear,
From the old... - By William Butler YeatsI
My Soul. I summon to the winding ancient stair;
Set all your mind upon the steep ascent,
Upon the broken, crumbling battlement,
Upon the breathless starlit air,
Upon the star that marks the hidden pole;
Fix every wandering thought upon
That quarter where all thought is... - By William Butler YeatsI
I sought a theme and sought for it in vain,
I sought it daily for six weeks or so.
Maybe at last being but a broken man
I must be satisfied with my heart, although
Winter and summer till old age began
My circus animals... - By Jalynn Harrisit never occurred to me,
this virus on the pout
of my thumb, multiplying as
sheep scat; a cluster of… - By Norman DubieIf only it were just a lousy herb
That issued feeble tendrils slowly, now and then
Relinquishing some … - By Julia FiedorczukTranslated By Bill JohnstonFrom within my bodily singularity
I play at sending out gentle sunbeams.
I don't believe in myself, but… - By Camonghne FelixWhat else could I say except I agree with you really am bulldozed
with grief
my strength a whistle in… - By Sylvia ChanI want to begin this poem with two stories:
1. In 1984, my mother was pulled over for speeding in a rural, still unnamed village in Taishan. The cop was a forty-year-old man who let her go because of her age... - By Tilsa OttaOdio la violencia
Así sea hermosa y moderna
Le temo a la ciencia
Cuando hace realidad mis peores sueños… - By Felicia ZamoraWhere wor{l}d & the tangible object of that wor{l}d collide. My brain thinks traces & again, Singh’s words at the back of my throat, The unconscious is the most evasive archive of all, yet is pulsing right there inside you....