Poems Rethabile Likes

"The Children," by Donald Revell The Children In three directions are two storms. I instruct the edges of my hands to become irises, to shatter in that way, in three directions. There's nothing behind me. Viols claw beneath our fences at the elevation of sound to pure unsanctity, the moment of simultaneity: airplanes seeming to collide and not colliding, the crow alighting in the manner of a seabird, the carbomb a more than momentary poppy. The bad total of death points one direction. It moves at the edge of my hand at the memorial service, viols useless now laid acr...

"When you are old," by William Butler Yeats When you are old When you are old and grey and full of sleep, And nodding by the fire, take down this book, And slowly read, and dream of the soft look Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep; How many loved your moments of glad grace, And loved your beauty with love false or true, But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you, And loved the sorrows of your changing face; And bending down beside the glowing bars, Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled And paced upon the mountains overhead And hid his face amid a c...

"Water Music," by Robert Creeley Water Music The words are a beautiful music. The words bounce like in water. Water music, loud in the clearing off the boats, birds, leaves. They look for a place to sit and eat— no meaning, no point. Poet: Robert Creeley Source: @Poets.Org Books: @Abebooks Water music, loud in the clearing. ...

"Let Me Tell You What a Poem Brings," by Juan Felipe Herrera Let Me Tell You What a Poem Brings "for Charles Fishman" Before you go further, let me tell you what a poem brings, first, you must know the secret, there is no poem to speak of, it is a way to attain a life without boundaries, yes, it is that easy, a poem, imagine me telling you this, instead of going day by day against the razors, well, the judgments, all the tick-tock bronze, a leather jacket sizing you up, the fashion mall, for example, from the outside you think you are being entertained, when you enter, things c...

In the Desert, by Stephen Crane In the Desert In the desert I saw a creature, naked, bestial, Who, squatting upon the ground, Held his heart in his hands, And ate of it. I said: “Is it good, friend?” “It is bitter—bitter,” he answered; “But I like it Because it is bitter, And because it is my heart.” Poet: Stephen Crane Source: @PoemsThatHurt Books: @Abebooks Held his heart in his hands, and ate of it. ...

"Lie Down", by Nancy Paddock Lie Down Lie down with your belly to the ground, like an old dog in the sun. Smell the greenness of the cloverleaf, feel the damp earth through your clothes, let an ant wander the uncharted territory of your skin. Lie down with your belly to the ground. Melt into the earth's contours like a harmless snake. All else is mere bravado. Let your mind resolve itself in a tangle of grass. Lie down with your belly to the ground, flat out, on ground level. Prostrate yourself before the soil you will someday enter. Stop doing. Stop judging, fearing, trying. This is ...

You Will Forget, by Chenjerai Jove You Will Forget If you stay in comfort too long You will not know The weight of a water pot On the bald head of the village woman You will forget The weight of three bundles of thatch grass On the sinewy neck of the woman Whose baby cries on her back For a blade of grass in its eyes Sure, if you stay in comfort too long You will not know the pain Of child birth without a nurse in white You will forget The thirst, the cracked dusty lips Of the women in the valley On her way to the headman who isn’t there You will forget the pouring pain of a thorn prick With a l...

"We are People, Yes", by Rethabile Masilo we are people, yes "In union we created god" — Rustum Kozain we are people      yes      with ordinary lives      whom life takes by the hand      on ordinary days      like mary and joseph before      who were born to raise god      and enjoyed sleeping i...

"Friendly advice to a lot of young men", by Charles Bukowski Friendly advice to a lot of young men Go to Tibet. Ride a camel. Read the Bible. Dye your shoes blue. Grow a Beard. Circle the world in a paper canoe. Subscribe to “The Saturday Evening Post.” Chew on the left side of your mouth only. Marry a woman with one leg and shave with a straight razor. And carve your name in her arm. Brush your teeth with gasoline. Sleep all day and climb trees at night. Be a monk and drink buckshot and beer. Hold your head under water and play the violin. Do a belly dance bef...

Untitled, by Rachel McKibbens Untitled To my daughters I need to say: Go with the one who loves you biblically. The one whose love lifts its head to you despite its broken neck. Whose body bursts sixteen arms electric to carry you, gentle the way old grief is gentle. Love the love that is messy in all its too much. The body that rides best your body, whose mouth saddles the naked salt of your far-gone hips, whose tongue translates the rock language of all your elegant scars. Go with the one who cries out for her tragic sisters as she chops the winter’s wood, the one whose skin triggers your heart into...

"The Apple" is a poem by Laura Gilpin The Apple You gave me your heart like a polished apple and being young I bit into it letting my teeth pierce the tight skin deep into the flesh while the juices ran down between my fingers. But now I’m not sure what fruit it is that I’ve eaten or from what tree or why suddenly neither one of us is quite as young. Poet: Laura Gilpin Source: @PoemToday Books: @AbeBooks You gave me your heart like a polished apple ...

"The Facts of Life" is a poem by Ronald Wallace The Facts of Life She wonders how people get babies. Suddenly vague and distracted, we talk about "making love." She’s six and unsatisfied, finds our limp answers unpersuasive. Embarrassed, we stiffen, and try again, this time exposing the stark naked words: penis, vagina, sperm, womb and egg. She thinks we’re pulling her leg. We decide that it’s time to get passionate and insist. But she’s angry, disgusted. Why do we always make fun of her? Why do we lie? We sigh, try cabbages, storks. She smiles. That’s more like it. We ...