Posts Tagged ‘ poem ’

Popcorn-can Cover – Niedecker | Illustrated Poetry

Source: Popcorn-can Cover – Niedecker | Illustrated Poetry

Night 4: Linton Kwesi Johnson reading Kamau Brathwaite’s Jou’vert – YouTube

☀ Today’s Poem: “This is the mineral hour of twilight” Eva Veiga

This is the mineral hour of twilight

Eva Veiga
Translated from the Galician by Jonathan Dunne

 

when the crystal
dreams
of being the incandescent bubble
of defeated metal.
Dreaming is the extreme temptation to become confused.
On the back of horses
the mountain goes down to the plains.
At the foot of the path a tree
against the light
the fruit hangs the way a moment
flares
flower of time.
The world is the shells’ secret.


Esta é a hora mineral do crepúsculo

cando o cristal
soña
se-la burbulla incandescente
do metal vencido.
E soñar é a extrema tentación de confundirse.
Ó lombo dos cabalos
o monte baixa ás chairas.
Ó pé do camiño unha árbore
contraluz
suspende o froito como un instante
se prende
flor de tempo.
O mundo é o segredo das cunchas.

 

from the journal ASYMPTOTE

Source: ☀ Today’s Poem: “This is the mineral hour of twilight” Eva Veiga

The Best Way | Grandy’s Landing

THE BEST WAY

 

Why that way, towards the hills,

towards that blinding line as the sun sets,

skein after skein, honking?

Why not out across the sea?

I walk the Old Quay, wondering.

 

Waders cry in the flashing fire of the saltmarsh.

The glowing sandstone of the low wall

thrums with ancient knowledge.

Yet it is in your high-altitude honking

I find an answer:

 

Instinct, trust in instinct, it’s the best way…

 

I take her hand in mine

and we sing.

 

Paul Beech

Copyright © Paul Beech 2020

Source: The Best Way | Grandy’s Landing

Erhard Karkoschka e Paul Celan – vengodalmare

 

Source: Erhard Karkoschka e Paul Celan – vengodalmare

“Forsook” by LAF

IMG_20200523_094324322_HDR

Forsook

Emerging from shelters
Dazed by sun following storm
Finding messages beaded
In every North-facing window screen
Around town
Braille-shaped rain droplets reading
“Condolences on your loss”

– LAF

Ana Božičević on Christina Rossetti’s “Goblin Market” – Poetry Daily

Source: Ana Božičević on Christina Rossetti’s “Goblin Market” – Poetry Daily

Two Poems by Amy King @ Tusculum Review – AMY KING

 

Source: Two Poems by Amy King @ Tusculum Review – AMY KING

Journey by Lidija Dimkovska – Poems | Academy of American Poets

 

Translated from the Macedonian by Ljubica Arsovska and edited by Patricia Marsh Stefanovska

Time trampled on you the moment you set out.
In the coach across the border
the conductor wiped the seats
with a brochure on human rights someone left behind.
Rain didn’t beat against the windows of the other passengers,
it was only yours that the raindrops hit like stones,
just like at the exit from a metro station you know
where it’s always raining
and the little orphans sniff glue from plastic bags
sprawled on the escalators.
Your soul shivered in the buffer zone,
your body gaped like a cupboard emptied before moving out,
the night was the senselessness of the daytime sense.
You dreamt in snatches an unending dream of how
the nineteenth century travels around with a beard
like a drunk loser,
how the twentieth century has a haircut and a shave
at the town barber’s,
and how the twenty-first runs frantically between the two.
In the first city the Politkovskaya Club awaits you
in the second—the Joyce Irish Pub,
in the third—white houses with lace curtains
and a notice: Today is Dr. Roberto’s funeral.
White underwear hung
from the balconies of Hell.
But Heaven’s balconies
have long run out of clotheslines and pegs
to hang washed brains out to dry.
Grannies in the corners of the neighbourhood
didn’t even hold out a hand any more.
On the table in the small room of your fellow countryman:
two volumes of Das Kapital and a key for the toilet.
An empty noose dangled from the ceiling light.
If everything is all right, one day
you too will become a postman here.
You’ll unlock the town’s cemetery
with a key from a big keyring
and read to the dead women
the letters from their dead husbands.
And then the neighbourhood boys
in their long black coats
will come upon you
and afterwards no one will
remember you any more,
not that you were here nor that you were born somewhere else.

Source: Journey by Lidija Dimkovska – Poems | Academy of American Poets

The Gardenia by Cornelius Eady – Poems | Academy of American Poets

The Gardenia

Cornelius Eady – 1954-

The trouble is, you can never take
That flower from Billie's hair.
She is always walking too fast
and try as we might,

there's no talking her into slowing.
Don't go down into that basement,
we'd like to scream. What will it take
to bargain her blues,

To retire that term when it comes
to her? But the grain and the cigarettes,
the narcs and the fancy-dressed boys,
the sediment in her throat.

That's the soil those petals spring from,
Like a fist, if a fist could sing.

Source: The Gardenia by Cornelius Eady – Poems | Academy of American Poets