Tag Archives: Poetry

but then you read

“You think your pain and your heartbreak are unprecedented in the history of the world, but then you read,” James Baldwin  BOOKS by Hermann Hesse All the books of the world will not bring you happiness, but build a secret … Continue reading →

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I think I could turn and live with animals

Song of Myself, 32 Walt Whitman I think I could turn and live with animals, they are so placid and self-contain’d, I stand and look at them long and long. They do not sweat and whine about their condition, They … Continue reading →

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“Hope”

 Happy Birthday Emily Dickinson   “Hope” is the thing with feathers BY EMILY DICKINSON “Hope” is the thing with feathers – That perches in the soul – And sings the tune without the words – And never stops – at all … Continue reading →

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Thank you for waiting

Thank You for Waiting by Simon Armitage Thank you for waiting. At this moment in time, we’d like to invite First Class passengers only to board the aircraft. Thank you for waiting. We now extend our invitation to Exclusive, Superior, Privilege … Continue reading →

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A Boat

A Boat O beautiful was the werewolf in his evil forest. We took him to the carnival and he started crying when he saw the Ferris wheel. Electric green and red tears flowed down his furry cheeks. He looked like … Continue reading →

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Life While You Wait

LIFE WHILE-YOU-WAIT by Wisława Szymborska Life While-You-Wait. Performance without rehearsal. Body without alterations. Head without premeditation. I know nothing of the role I play. I only know it’s mine. I can’t exchange it. I have to guess on the spot … Continue reading →

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“In the End, Everything Gives”

Earlier this year, the National Gallery of Art in Washington D.C. held a symposium titled “Poetry is a country.” The symposium brought poets together to premiere original poetry inspired by works in the Gallery’s collection—including U.S. Poet Laureate Ada Limón, who wrote “In the … Continue reading →

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Hearts not averse to being beguiled

October by Robert Frost O hushed October morning mild, Thy leaves have ripened to the fall; Tomorrow’s wind, if it be wild, Should waste them all. The crows above the forest call; Tomorrow they may form and go. O hushed … Continue reading →

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Eagerly I wished the morrow

“Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December; And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost … Continue reading →

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thinking about burning the bookstore down

In the Bookstore By: Julia Vinograd I went down to the bookstore this evening and found myself in the poetry section. But for every thin book of poems there was a thick biography of the poet and an even thicker … Continue reading →

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