Poems Rethabile Likes

Untitled by César Vallejo | Poems Rethabile Likes "Untitled" by César Vallejo Poet César Vallejo — read by Claudia Rankine . Find Vallejo's books 📖 Read along Untitled For several days, I have felt an exuberant, political need to love, to kiss affection on its two cheeks, and I have felt from afar a demonstrative desire, another desire to love, willingly or by force, whoever hates me, whoever rips up his paper, a little boy, the woman who cries for the man who was crying, the king of wine, the slave of water, whoever hid in his wrath, whoever sweats, whoever passes, whoever shakes his person in my soul. And I want, therefore, to adjust the braid of whoever talks to me; the hair of the soldier; the light of the great one; the greatness of the little one. I want to iron directly a ...

The Unchosen by Judson Jerome | Poems Rethabile Likes The Unchosen by Judson Jerome I guess I have a deficiency. God never said boo to me when as a boy I stood straining in church with muscular endeavor for the sweet squirt of salvation. I never could see why He spoke to this or that old lady, sending her, hallelujah, down the aisle. Was I alone in the congregation vile? Or was their claim of spirit something shady? And now when I read poets who simply Know, drinking their imagery from God's own cup, whose poems "just come," and then, like Topsy, grow, whereas I always have to make them up, ...

What I Believe by Michael Blumenthal | Poems Rethabile Likes What I Believe by Michael Blumenthal I believe there is no justice, but that cottongrass and bunchberry grow on the mountain. I believe that a scorpion's sting will kill a man, but that his wife will remarry. I believe that, the older we get, the weaker the body, but the stronger the soul. I believe that if you roll over at night in an empty bed, the air consoles you. I believe that no one is spared the darkness, and no one gets all of it. I believe we all drown eventually ...

Canto Two [excerpt] by John Shade (from Pale Fire) | Poems Rethabile Likes Canto Two [excerpt] by John Shade (A poet in Vladimir Nabokov's novel "Pale Fire") There was a time in my demented youth When somehow I suspected that the truth About survival after death was known To every human being: I alone Knew nothing, and a great conspiracy Of books and people hid the truth from me. There was the day when I began to doubt Man's sanity: How could he live without Knowing for sure what dawn, what death, what doom Awaited consciousness beyond the tomb? And finally there was the sleepless night ...