Ode. Arthur O'Shaughnessy
<3.Day. « This is your reason to stay. they’re having coffee at Starbucks for a date on Valentine’s Day because they’re fourteen and that’s what you do at fourteen. she wears a long-sleeved tee shirt and too much eyeliner she’s mildly not-skinny he wears a short sleeved striped polo
Perspective by vijayendra mohanty
A Myth of Devotion When Hades decided he loved this girl he built for her a duplicate of earth, everything the same, down to the meadow, but with a bed added. Everything the same, including sunlight, because it would be hard on a young girl to go so quickly from bright light to utter darkness Gradually, he thought, he'd introduce the night, first as the shadows of fluttering leaves. Then moon, then stars. Then no moon, no stars.
Welcome Welcome to The Poetry Translation Centre’s website. We’re a small organisation dedicated to translating contemporary poetry from Africa, Asia and Latin America. To date, we've translated 399 poems written in 27 different languages by 86 poets from 39 countries. Poetry Translation Centre
Nathaniel Whittemore Waiting in line at a taco stand for my number to be called I started talking to a six-year-old kid kicking his little foot against A curb and waiting for his dad to come out of the bathroom. And he said, “Why do you cough so much?” And I said, “Because I have cancer.” And he said, “Bummer.” “Death and Tacos” by Nathaniel Whittemore
I Will Wade Out by E. E. Cummings
You Are Tired (I Think) by e.e. cummings You Are Tired (I Think) by e.e. cummings You are tired,(I think)Of the always puzzle of living and doing;And so am I. Come with me, then,And we’ll leave it far and far away—(Only you and I, understand!) You have played,(I think)And broke the toys you were fondest of,And are a little tired now;Tired of things that break, and—Just tired.So am I. But I come with a dream in my eyes tonight,And I knock with a rose at the hopeless gate of your heart—Open to me!For I will show you places Nobody knows,And, if you like,The perfect places of Sleep.
A Refusal To Mourn The Death, By Fire, Of A Child In London - by Dylan Thomas Poet: Dylan ThomasPoem: A Refusal To Mourn The Death, By Fire, Of A Child In London Comment 196 of 196, added on April 1st, 2014 at 9:03 AM. wsRMfLbNJuTDaMdWP vkGfrF Thanks for sharing, this is a fantastic article.Really thank you!
Autobiography In Five Chapters 1) I walk down the street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I fall in. I am lost... I am hopeless.
There were twelve fairies at the feast. Never Thirteen. The day the queen gave birth, the king Sent out twelve messengers on horses, One to each of us, begging us Carabosse by Delia Sherman
I Loved You, by Alexander Pushkin
Rain by Shel Silverstein
Pantomime by Marcus Lane
Imagine for a second that the world you live in is magic. Not your hocus-pocus, wave-your-wand-magic, but magic like the coffee tables you sit at beat with the hearts of the trees they were made from. That the coffee and beer in your mouths is feeding you life straight off the tongues of the plants they were made from. That every heart beating in this room is beating in time to every heart in this room and this poem.