By Cornelius Eady
I’m here to tell you an old story. ThisAppears to be my work. I live in the world,Walk the streets of...
Explore Poems: Arts & Sciences
Showing 1-20 of 4,871 poems
- By R. L. SwihartThe young man says, “Alan can do anything he wants”“Not fly,” I sayThe young man returns a puzzled look...
- By Cornelius EadySome folks will tell you the blues is a woman,Some type of supernatural creature.My mother would tell...
- By CAConradFrank is a young boy asleep in ancient Tibet what you thought was your life is really his dream he may...
- By CAConrad
Frank knows a
butterfly
who wonders
about her old
caterpillar
friends - By CAConrad“this is your captain” Frank says from the cockpit “all passengers wishing to bail out any time during...
- By CAConrad
“don’t tell me it was
the wind!” Frank shouts
“THAT TREE
WAVED
AT ME!” - By CAConradMother was angry when Frank accused his brother of being a cartoon “but look!” Frank said “I can fold...
- By K. IverYou’ve never seen a lilac in Mississippi. Backstage you wear lotion laced with its chemical imitation...
- By Matthew RohrerReading a kind of laborious poem about rural things and a horse is shot for breaking its leg. I still...
- He was jailed for cruelty to insects, and his agent wasn’t answering the phone, so he stayed awake in...
- By Amy ClampittThe lit night glares like a day-glo strawberry, the stakeout car beside the hydrant is full of feds,...
- By Sally Wen MaoIt is natural to live in an era when no one uttered–– and silence was glamour so I could cast one glance...
- By Josh Bell“You can’t kiss a movie,” Jean-Luc Godard said, and this is mostly true, in that you cannot initiate...
- By David RoderickI wear a flower in my lapel. I like the sweetness of its lie in my nose. A carnation, the fool’s flower...
- By Paisley RekdalHow horrible it is, how horrible that Cronenberg film where Goldblum’s trapped with a fly inside his...
- By John MurilloFor me, the movie starts with a black man Leaping into an orbit of badges, tiny moons Catching the sheen...
- By Cyrus ConsoleRotor wash, or the downward-flowing Air by which our helicopters formed Imprints in the jungle grass beneath ...
- By Cyrus CassellsThat was the season I couldn’t think or write indoors, the garrulous springtime every strophe, every...
- By Holly Mitchell1. After the beginning of the gallop, there are counts when the horse is in the air, her legs withdrawn...