Oatmeal (Galway Kinnell Poem)
I eat oatmeal for breakfast. I make it on the hot plate and put skimmed milk on it. I eat ...
I eat oatmeal for breakfast. I make it on the hot plate and put skimmed milk on it. I eat ...
(For Shaemas O Sheel) One winter night a Devil came and sat upon my bed, His eyes were full of ...
(For Mrs. Henry Mills Alden) I think that I shall never see A poem lovely as a tree. A tree ...
1 On my way home from school up tribal Providence Hill past the Academy ballpark where I could never hope ...
(sign at a railroad crossing in Kenya) In a poem, one line may hide another line, As at a crossing, ...
First, I would have her be beautiful, and walking carefully up on my poetry at the loneliest moment of an ...
The poetry of earth is never dead: When all the birds are faint with the hot sun, And hide in ...
Lucy, you brightness of our sphere, who are Life of the Muses' day, their morning star! If works, not th' ...
Here where the end of bone is no end of song And the earth is bedecked with immortality In what ...
Farewell, thou child of my right hand, and joy; My sin was too much hope of thee, loved boy. Seven ...
When the writing is going well, I am a prince in a desert palace, fountains flowing in the garden. I ...
All winter the fire devoured everything -- tear-stained elegies, old letters, diaries, dead flowers. When April finally arrived, I opened ...
This poem is not addressed to you. You may come into it briefly, But no one will find you here, ...
Our lives avoided tragedy Simply by going on and on, Without end and with little apparent meaning. Oh, there were ...
This morning Hitler spoke in Danzig, we hear his voice. A man of genius: that is, of amazing Ability, courage, ...
Stone-cutters fighting time with marble, you foredefeated Challengers of oblivion Eat cynical earnings, knowing rock splits, records fall down, The ...
When the sun shouts and people abound One thinks there were the ages of stone and the age of bronze ...
In Autumn, as in Spring, the sap flows, the sap wishes to race against heartbeats before the winter, before the ...
Sometimes the poem doesn't want to come; it hides from the poet like a playful cat who has run under ...
You gave me the child that seamed my belly & stitched up my life. You gave me: one book of ...
All the endings in my life rise up against me like that sea of troubles Shakespeare mixed with metaphors; like ...
The lover in these poems is me; the doctor, Love. He appears as husband, lover analyst & muse, as father, ...
His death poem: A bath when you're born, a bath when you die, how stupid. (Kobayashi Issa)
poem supposed to be about one minute and the lives of three women in it writing it and up the ...
The hushed dark hugs the streets. Somewhere a cat snaps the silence. Dogs begin to bark, like a pack moving ...
Frail as smoke, she drifts through the crowded train, bringing with her the cold ashes of poverty. Without a word, ...
I never made a poem, dear friend-- I never sat me down, and said, This cunning brain and patient hand ...
Dear Condor: Much thanks for that telephonic support from North Carolina when I suddenly went ape in the Iowa tulips. ...
'TERENCE, this is stupid stuff: You eat your victuals fast enough; There can't be much amiss, 'tis clear, To see ...
'My father still reads the dictionary every day. He says your life depends on your power to master words.' Arthur ...
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