Poetry
Heritage
By the time their sons learn the meaning of sunset, only father’s hands remain, and the plow and the field.
Section
Showing 649-672 of 681 pieces
Poetry
By the time their sons learn the meaning of sunset, only father’s hands remain, and the plow and the field.
Poetry
Today I raked a melody with syllables culled from your lips. But I miss you when you gather chrysanthemums each morning;
Poetry
On the eight hour lorry ride from El Fashir to Nyala, perched on potato sacks, I am stripped of the constant bickering
Poetry
… In my hand, the Christmas card, a red bird against a stark background of snow.
Poetry
Breathe deep And immerse into An amniotic kingdom
Poetry
A Visual poem by Leila Fortier
Poetry
He can feel them turning lazy cartwheels, digging holes their exact diameter into his thoughts.
Poetry
a bucketful of stars across the black tarpaulin
Poetry
If I were to be ever be here I would see this
Poetry
You zoomed in on the screen, in the mist of Shillong and colored the studio green.
Poetry
While hiking in the wild I picked it up on the trail Hard like a diamond Sleek like a mirror
Poetry
Spent his life hunched over, carving symbols with a bleeding hand. Every night the same dream – an open sky and a doorway with no key.
Poetry
Shed of weight, it weeps gently, the air suffused with fermenting sweetness. Cut further along its flanks, following its contour, in diagonal cuts blinding its many eyes, one by one.
Poetry
Dawn is still far away, beyond the wire-meshed fence in another country, another world.
Poetry
Poetry you suffer at the hands of pimps and yet you blush to the delight of your true loves
Poetry
is it when eyes droop red and lactic acid does bleed in your veins no blood is left that you be a beast?
Poetry
On walls I paste, whose colors decline, ‘Wanted’ posters for those lost times!
Poetry
I keep your belongings, Our belongings; safe; For the day we will reconcile
Poetry
And thus it was that the Earth made light Shine where it had been forever dark.
Poetry
… in a warm July you lay Christened and smiling … While I, a guest in your green court, At a West window sat and…
Poetry
That night, the veil of clouds; Torn by a streak of lightening Led once to the arrival Of that infant so born, To face the…
Poetry
Stretched between wakefulness and oblivion; identity’s rebellion and sleep’s persuasion; I fiddled with the bitter cold star inside me. Dead star with dead dreams at its core….
Poetry
a few meters away the church bells ring and earthen lamps light a prayer for a son daughters don’t get burial in this land
Poetry
He remembered his father’s face, Grey eyes, with a cold gaze, His mother’s proud stance, As she threw him a final glance.