Tag Archive: english poem

Naked in the Bee-House

Being humble is right for you now.
Don’t thrash around showing your strength.
Devamını Oku


Only Breath


Not Christian or Jew or Muslim, not Hindu
Buddhist, sufi, or zen. Not any religion

or cultural system. I am not from the East
or the West, not out of the ocean or up Devamını Oku


The Marriage of the Soul (from The Secret Rose Garden)



Descending to the earth, that strange intoxicating beauty of the unseen world
lurks in the elements of nature.

Devamını Oku


Marriage / by William Carlos Williams


So different, this man

And this woman:

A stream flowing

In a field. Devamını Oku


May the light of your soul guide you / By John O’Donohue



May the light of your soul guide you.
May the light of your soul bless the work
You do with the secret love and warmth of your heart.
May you see in what you do the beauty of your own soul. Devamını Oku


Self-Portrait in a Wire Jacket / by Monica Youn


To section off
is to intensify,

to deaden.
Some surfaces

cannot be salvaged.
Leave them

to lose function,
to persist only
Devamını Oku


It was a hard thing to undo this knot / by Gerard Manley Hopkins


It was a hard thing to undo this knot.

The rainbow shines, but only in the thought

Of him that looks. Yet not in that alone,

For who makes rainbows by invention?  Devamını Oku


from Please Bury Me in This / by Allison Benis White


Maybe my arms lifted as a woman lowers a dress over my head.

This is not what I want to tell you.

Devamını Oku


Excelsior / by Walt Whitman

Walt Whitman

Who has gone farthest? for I would go farther,
And who has been just? for I would be the most just person of the Devamını Oku


Getting Close / by Victoria Redel

Because my mother loved pocketbooks

I come alive at the opening click or close of a metal clasp. Devamını Oku


Permanence / by Denise Duhamel


The barista at the coffee shop is covered in tattoos. She says there are only two ways they hold her back. 1. She can’t work at Starbucks. 2. She can’t wear a corsage, since she’d just be way too busy, and this makes me laugh. She says no to gifts from prom dates–the wrist corsage, the pinned corsage; no to bridal bouquets, the get-well-soon carnations. One day soon her mother will insist on sympathy wreaths around her coffin, which is closed, lest she be confused with the flowers. Devamını Oku


Summer in the South / by Paul Laurence Dunbar

Paul Laurence Dunbar

The oriole sings in the greening grove

As if he were half-way waiting,

The rosebuds peep from their hoods of green,

Timid and hesitating.  Devamını Oku


Remorse / by Carl Sandburg


 The horse’s name was Remorse.

There were people said, “Gee, what a nag!”
And they were Edgar Allan Poe bugs and so
They called him Remorse. Devamını Oku


They Romp with Wooly Canines / by Patricia Smith

and spy whole lifetimes on the undersides of leaves.
Jazz intrudes, stank clogging that neat procession
of lush and flutter. His eyes, siphoned and dimming,
demand that he accept ardor as it is presented, with
its tear-splashed borders and stilted lists, romance
that is only on the agenda because hours do not stop. Devamını Oku

Living in Numbers / by Claire Lee


Sunday, August 22, 2010:

Number of times I’ve woken up after

oversleeping and sprung out of bed like a ninja: 959

Number of broken bones: 3

Number of scars, physical: 4; emotional: 947

Number of funerals attended: 7

Number of friends, Facebook: 744, real: 9

Number of cavities filled: 0 Devamını Oku

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