Poems Rethabile Likes

Gaza by Bill Manhire | Poems Rethabile Likes Gaza by Bill Manhire The dead boy tries to open his eyes. He wants to see the world he is leaving. But there is nothing to see here, nothing and nothing, and anyway he is gone. His parents held him while he died but they are both dead, too. Or he held them, no one remembers. 🎧 Listen to Bill Manhire read "Gaza" Your browser does not support the audio element. Poet: @BillManhire Online: @BestNewZealandPoems Book(s): @ThriftBooks ...

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...