A Poem for You: poem where no one is deported

2021-01-21T14:05:22-05:00

poem where no one is deported José Olivarez now i like to imagine la migra running into the sock factory where my mom & her friends worked. it was all women who worked there. women who braided each other’s hair during breaks. women who wore rosaries, & never  had a hair out of place. women who were ready for cameras or for God, who ended all their sentences with si dios quiere. as in: the day before  the immigration raid when the rumor of a raid was passed around like bread & the women made plans, si dios quiere. so when [...]

A Poem for You: poem where no one is deported2021-01-21T14:05:22-05:00

A Poem for You: Around Us

2020-11-30T12:47:35-05:00

Around Us Marvin Bell  We need some pines to assuage the darkness when it blankets the mind, we need a silvery stream that banks as smoothly as a plane's wing, and a worn bed of needles to pad the rumble that fills the mind, and a blur or two of a wild thing that sees and is not seen. We need these things between appointments, after work, and, if we keep them, then someone someday, lying down after a walk and supper, with the fire hole wet down, the whole night sky set at a particular time, without numbers or hours, [...]

A Poem for You: Around Us2020-11-30T12:47:35-05:00

A Poem for You: Marshlands

2020-11-18T13:05:01-05:00

Marshlands Emily Pauline Johnson A thin wet sky, that yellows at the rim, And meets with sun-lost lip the marsh’s brim. The pools low lying, dank with moss and mould, Glint through their mildews like large cups of gold Among the wild rice in the still lagoon, In monotone the lizard shrills his tune. The wild goose, homing, seeks a sheltering, Where rushes grow, and oozing lichens cling. Late cranes with heavy wing, and lazy flight, Sail up the silence with the nearing night. And like a spirit, swathed in some soft veil, Steals twilight and its shadows o’er the swale. [...]

A Poem for You: Marshlands2020-11-18T13:05:01-05:00

A Poem for You: This Is Not a Small Voice

2020-11-18T13:02:10-05:00

This Is Not a Small Voice Sonia Sanchez  This is not a small voice you hear               this is a large voice coming out of these cities. This is the voice of LaTanya. Kadesha. Shaniqua. This is the voice of Antoine. Darryl. Shaquille. Running over waters navigating the hallways of our schools spilling out on the corners of our cities and no epitaphs spill out of their river mouths. This is not a small love you hear               this is a large love, a passion for kissing learning on its face. This is a love that crowns the feet with hands that nourishes, [...]

A Poem for You: This Is Not a Small Voice2020-11-18T13:02:10-05:00

Prompt for the Week: 10/26/20

2020-10-19T16:32:30-04:00

“"[Dad] pronounced the word ‘nudity’ as though a fruit fly had just flown into his mouth—he spat as he said it. The word mainly made me think of the potatoes whose jackets my mother peeled off every evening before she dropped them into the water,' writes Marieke Lucas Rijneveld in her debut novel, The Discomfort of Evening, translated from the Dutch by Michele Hutchison, which won the 2020 International Booker Prize. The observations of the young narrator couple a unique perspective, one that actively accrues knowledge, with the power of setting the tone for and foreshadowing the novel’s eventual tragedy, threading [...]

Prompt for the Week: 10/26/202020-10-19T16:32:30-04:00

A Poem for You: On the Mountain

2020-10-26T14:39:53-04:00

On the Mountain BY JOHN HAINES We climbed out of timber, bending on the steep meadow to look for berries, then still in the reddening sunlight went on up the windy shoulder. A shadow followed us up the mountain like a black moon rising. Minute by minute the autumn lamps on the slope burned out. Around us the air and the rocks whispered of night . . . A great cloud blew from the north, and the mountain vanished in the rain and stormlit darkness.

A Poem for You: On the Mountain2020-10-26T14:39:53-04:00

A Poem for You: A Hymn to the Evening

2020-10-19T16:23:21-04:00

A Hymn to the Evening BY PHILLIS WHEATLEY Soon as the sun forsook the eastern main The pealing thunder shook the heav'nly plain; Majestic grandeur! From the zephyr's wing, Exhales the incense of the blooming spring. Soft purl the streams, the birds renew their notes, And through the air their mingled music floats. Through all the heav'ns what beauteous dies are spread! But the west glories in the deepest red: So may our breasts with ev'ry virtue glow, The living temples of our God below! Fill'd with the praise of him who gives the light, And draws the sable curtains of the [...]

A Poem for You: A Hymn to the Evening2020-10-19T16:23:21-04:00

A Poem for You: If You Should Go

2020-06-30T15:10:57-04:00

If You Should Go Countee Cullen  Love, leave me like the light, The gently passing day; We would not know, but for the night, When it has slipped away. So many hopes have fled, Have left me but the name Of what they were. When love is dead, Go thou, beloved, the same. Go quietly; a dream When done, should leave no trace That it has lived, except a gleam Across the dreamer’s face.

A Poem for You: If You Should Go2020-06-30T15:10:57-04:00

A Poem for you: Glory

2020-06-25T15:20:48-04:00

 Glory Gbenga Adesina Glory of plums, femur of Glory. Glory of ferns on a dark platter. Glory of willows, Glory of Stag beetles Glory of the long obedience of the kingfisher. Glory of waterbirds, Glory of thirst.  Glory of the Latin of the dead and their grammar composed entirely of decay.  Glory of the eyes of my father which, when he died, closed inside his grave, and opened even more brightly inside me. Glory of dark horses running furiously inside their own dark horses.

A Poem for you: Glory2020-06-25T15:20:48-04:00

A Poem for You: Three Songs at the End of Summer

2020-06-23T16:06:24-04:00

Three Songs at the End of Summer Jane Kenyon  A second crop of hay lies cut and turned. Five gleaming crows search and peck between the rows. They make a low, companionable squawk, and like midwives and undertakers possess a weird authority. Crickets leap from the stubble, parting before me like the Red Sea. The garden sprawls and spoils. Across the lake the campers have learned to water-ski. They have, or they haven’t. Sounds of the instructor’s megaphone suffuse the hazy air. “Relax! Relax!” Cloud shadows rush over drying hay, fences, dusty lane, and railroad ravine. The first yellowing fronds of [...]

A Poem for You: Three Songs at the End of Summer2020-06-23T16:06:24-04:00

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