By Malcolm Tariq
You may find her behind
Rowan Oak, a shadow
of fortress where then now
you find no real entry…
Rowan Oak, a shadow
of fortress where then now
you find no real entry…
Explore Poems: Blame
Showing 1-20 of 1,374 poems
- By Chaelee DaltonConsider the market. Consider the gross domestic product of Korea. Call it Kimchi.
Ferment culture in… - By Zach CzaiaI'm sorry it wasn't till the end of the year
that I asked you to write about yourselves. You filled pages… - By D. H. LawrenceThe Last Lesson
When will the bell ring, and end this weariness?
How long have they tugged the leash… - By Sarah CarsonThe last man here wanted
what could not be taken: My girl, he'd say,
my baby. The narrow of his eyes… - By Anastasia Taylor-Lindv.
Isn’t it dangerous to be a woman? Surrounded by men, questions
about risk-taking, parenting (I’m childless… - By Maggie Queeneylaurel tree, limbs bent and twined into crown heifer bank of marsh reeds,
handful lashed into pipes, … - By Randall MannFirst I want to thank you all for coming,
for standing so patiently in line.
I know these are difficult… - By Sappho]frequently ]for those I treat well are the ones who most of all ]…
- By Saeed JonesThe end of the world was mistaken
for just another midday massacre
in America. Brain matter and broken… - By Anne CarsonIf I were an early person
I'd look for the limits of human wisdom
by going to sacred oak trees
or the local… - By Camonghne FelixWhat else could I say except I agree with you really am bulldozed
with grief
my strength a whistle in… - By Mike DoughtyHe was jailed for cruelty to insects, and his agent wasn’t answering the phone, so he stayed awake in…
- By Toi DerricotteTo be born woman is to know—
Although they do not speak of it at school-
Women must labor to be beautiful… - By Georg TraklAt evening autumn forests drone With deadly weapons, the golden plains And the blue lakes, above which…
- By DaMaris B. HillEvery wife must apologize for not being her husband’s
mother? But he will not forgive you. The absence… - By Shanta LeeMama birthed me, Papa sold me in the land of weeping willows
Traces of sin trail miles across skin, … - By Gwendolyn BrooksJohn Cabot, out of Wilma, once a Wycliffe,
all whitebluerose below his golden hair,
wrapped richly in… - By Lorna Dee CervantesIt was never in the planning,
in the life we thought
we’d live together, two fast
women living cheek… - By Lorna Dee CervantesHe was a good boy
making his way through
the Santa Barbara pines,
sighting the blast of fluff
as he …