Poems Rethabile Likes

Sacred Days by Kay McKenzie Cooke | Poems Rethabile Likes Sacred Days by Kay McKenzie Cooke How I stalled, hiding inside my head, liking it there, cushioned. Being in the world as it was unfolding, with the sun shining neat on to footpaths, the rain's dribble on to hedges and patient mail-boxes, the smell of cooped-up budgies, the deep, warm bath nine o'clock at night, the creak of the passage; all things that cluster to form a town were bearable if the edges were woolly with fabrications. Rhododendrons and marigolds to soften front y...

this i remember by Raphael d'Abdon | Poems Rethabile Likes this i remember by Raphael d'Abdon i too, twice, wrote a piece on demand those performative poems that get you pocket cash and cheap applause  and it felt like bathing in a polluted river like stealing from grandma's wallet like the old drunk painter from my old town must have felt who scrawled still lifes in the morning to trade them with a sandwich and a bottle of wine at lunch  this i remember  as i sit on this pile of poems that will go nowhere and yet make me feel like swimming in spring waters like praying at grandma's grave ...

The Oven Bird by Robert Frost | Poems Rethabile Likes The Oven Bird by Robert Frost There is a singer everyone has heard, Loud, a mid-summer and a mid-wood bird, Who makes the solid tree trunks sound again. He says that leaves are old and that for flowers Mid-summer is to spring as one to ten. He says the early petal-fall is past, When pear and cherry bloom went down in showers On sunny days a moment overcast; And comes that other fall we name the fall. He says the highway dust is over all. The bird would cease and be as other birds But that he knows in singing not to sing. The question that he frames in all but words ...

The Things by Donald Hall | Poems Rethabile Likes The Things by Donald Hall When I walk in my house I see pictures, bought long ago, framed and hanging —de Kooning, Arp, Laurencin, Henry Moore— that I've cherished and stared at for years, yet my eyes keep returning to the masters of the trivial—a white stone perfectly round, tiny lead models of baseball players, a cowbell, a broken great-grandmother's rocker, a dead dog's toy—valueless, unforgettable detritus that my children will throw away as I did my mother's souvenirs of trips with my dead father, Kodaks of kittens, and bundles of cards from her mothe...

He Pleaded Ignorance by Kobus Moolman | Poems Rethabile Likes "He Pleaded Ignorance" by Kobus Moolman Poet Kobus Moolman reads "He Pleaded Ignorance" — a poem of unknowing and emergence. Find his books 📖 Read along He Pleaded Ignorance He did not know what the sky was made of. He did not know what fire tasted like. He did not know how far away from the earth the truth was. He did not know how long a man could survive without any covering over his body. Such as skin. He did not know the current market value of love. He did not know the lengths a man would go to in order to find deception. He did not know where it all came from. Then he came up out of the water. Then he found that he could still breathe. Even though it was air. Kobus Moolman's "He Pleaded Igno...