Poems Rethabile Likes

The Word That Is a Prayer by Ellery Akers | Poems Rethabile Likes The Word That Is a Prayer by Ellery Akers One thing you know when you say it: all over the earth people are saying it with you; a child blurting it out as the seizures take her, a woman reciting it on a cot in a hospital. What if you take a cab through the Tenderloin: at a street light, a man in a wool cap, yarn unraveling across his face, knocks at the window; he says, Please. By the time you hear what he's saying, the light changes, the cab pulls away, and you don't go back, though you know someone just prayed to you the way you pray. P...

The First Water Is the Body by Natalie Diaz | Poems Rethabile Likes The First Water Is the Body by Natalie Diaz The Colorado River is the most endangered river in the United States—also, it is a part of my body. I carry a river. It is who I am: ‘Aha Makav. This is not metaphor. When a Mojave says, Inyech ‘Aha Makavch ithuum , we are saying our name. We are telling a story of our existence. The river runs through the middle of my body. So far, I have said the word river in every stanza. I don't want to waste water. I must preserve the river in my body. In future stanzas, I will try to be more conservative. ↠ ...

Funeral Blues by W. H. Auden | Poems Rethabile Likes Funeral Blues by W. H. Auden Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come. Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead, Put crepe bows around the white necks of the public doves, Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last...

Kumina by Kamau Brathwaite | Poems Rethabile Likes “Kumina,” by Kamau Brathwaite Poet Kamau Brathwaite reads selections from “Kumina,” from Born to Slow Horses . Read more of the poem What I admire about “Kumina” is how Brathwaite turns ritual into rhythm on the page. The poem doesn't just describe a Kumina ceremony — it becomes one. The spacing, the line breaks, the way words fall like drumbeats: that's Nation Language at its most alive. Here is how “Kumina” opens: on the first day of yr death it is quiet it is dormant like a doormat no one-foot touch its welcome. its dust on the floor is not disturb nor are the sleeping spirits of this house Brathwaite’s Kumina takes its name from a Jamaican religious tradition of drumming, dancing, and spirit possession. The poem's sc...

Hug o' War by Shel Silverstein | Poems Rethabile Likes Hug o' War by Shel Silverstein I will not play at tug o' war. I'd rather play at hug o' war, Where everyone hugs Instead of tugs, Where everyone giggles And rolls on the rug, Where everyone kisses, And everyone grins, And everyone cuddles, And everyone wins. Poet: @ShelSilverstein Online: @alisonmcghee.com Book(s): @ThriftBooks ...

The Orange by Wendy Cope | Poems Rethabile Likes The Orange by Wendy Cope At lunchtime I bought a huge orange The size of it made us all laugh. I peeled it and shared it with Robert and Dave— They got quarters and I had a half. And that orange it made me so happy, As ordinary things often do Just lately. The shopping. A walk in the park This is peace and contentment. It’s new. The rest of the day was quite easy. I did all my jobs on my list And enjoyed them and had some time over. I love you. I’m glad I exist. Poet: @WendyCope Online: @TheGl...