Posts Tagged ‘ poem ’

Have we been taught poetry all wrong? | PBS NewsHour

I Wake Up Before the Machine
By Matthew Zapruder

I wake up before the machine
made of all the choices
we are together not making
lights up this part of Oakland
it’s dark so I can imagine
another grid humming in the east
already people are deciding
I lie in the western
pre-decision darkness and almost
hear that silent voice
saying go down there
the coffee needs you
to place it in the device
its next form will help you remember
daylight is coming
but dreams do not go away
they just move off and change
your mind is a tree
on a little hill
surrounded by grasses
that look up and say
father wind
loves moving through you

 

Poet Matthew Zapruder say that we are too often asked to find the “hidden meanings” in poems, as if a poem is a riddle.

Source: Have we been taught poetry all wrong? | PBS NewsHour

One Poem by Chia-Lun Chang

Against Nostalgia

 

water between somewhere cider
when volatile sky before sum rain
drops before faces astray raise
your head from a dictionary
raise your hat from one and another
degree put Iowa consciousness down
is age a mother it’s not funny yeah I
am so humid when we lie under
the tree ends up being a meeting five
minutes vague putrid roots there
is no construct nature she ain’t
transplanted seeding

 

please sometimes I break you
I have been spending my entire
life preparing for leaving grey
peace off making like with myself
wipe out lotus unaided stages

 

too many tiring people one
step away from disappearing
as soon as they open windows
drip pauses typewriting
mail mechanism out melt
sweat shirt I don’t see
shores pepper blind do you
hear my French war is a peach
of wall war raises waves re-
volution young adults hide
behind hinoki tables you don’t
come to an end I am com-
pliable to answer I think all
I want is being flawless
teary eyes, sparkling tumors so
I go, I lie, I tree and I were

 

Chia-Lun Chang

Source: One Poem by Chia-Lun Chang

▶ 13 The Bronze Sounding by 3CW Palimpsest

Bamboo and Plum Blossom: T’ao Ch’ien (365-427)

T’ao Ch’ien (365-427)

Ninth Day, Ninth Month

Slowly autumn comes to an end.
Painfully cold a dawn wind thicks the dew.
Grass round here will not be green again,
Trees and leaves are already suffering.
The clear air is drained and purified
And the high white sky’s a mystery.
Nothing’s left of the cicada’s sound.
Flying geese break the heavens’ silence.
The Myriad Creatures rise and return.
How can life and death not be hard?
From the beginning all things have to die.
Thinking of it can bruise the heart.
What can I do to lighten my thoughts?
Solace myself drinking the last of this wine.
Who understands the next thousand years?
Let’s just make this morning last forever.

 

Source: Bamboo and Plum Blossom: T’ao Ch’ien (365-427)

Bamboo and Plum Blossom: Hsu Yun (1840-1959)

Hsu Yun (1840-1959)

Passing the Winter at Yunhua but not meeting up with my friend
I came to this place where the trees are confusingly thick.
Suddenly in the arched vault of the forest I found a path.
I passed that stone… the one below the green pavilion.
There was frost on the leaves and the branch tips were bare and red.
Who was it who carved those emotional words in the rock?
I waited. Ah… All feelings,
Are they not just emptiness of “me”?
The Chan gates both rest quietly now
With the plum trees and the grasses
Awaiting the winds of Spring.

Source: Bamboo and Plum Blossom: Hsu Yun (1840-1959)

Seven – from Noah Eli Gordon | The Brooklyn Rail

It’s All You

 

All the geraniums
All the paintings of geraniums
All the photographs of geraniums
The word geranium
In all the languages
That have a word for geraniums
Lucky you & your constant removal
My daughter who doesn’t know
Why she’s crying tells me
I feel like there are
Tornadoes in my head
She’s four and her drawings
Of flowers look like the sun

 

Noah Eli Gordon lives in Denver, CO and teaches in the MFA program for Creative Writing at CU Boulder, where he currently directs Subito Press. His most recent book is The Word Kingdom in the Word Kingdom (Brooklyn Arts Press, 2015).

Source: Seven | The Brooklyn Rail

Jim Harrison – Pivoines (Peonies, 2009) | BEAUTY WILL SAVE THE WORLD

The peonies, too heavy with their beauty,
slump to the ground. I had hoped
they would live forever but ever so slowly
day by day they´re becoming the soil of their birth
with a faint tang of deliquescence about them.
Next June they´ll somehow remember to come alive again,
a little trick we have or have not learned.

Source: Jim Harrison – Pivoines (Peonies, 2009) | BEAUTY WILL SAVE THE WORLD