By Kevin Prufer
The brutality of those two men who broke into her apartment and murdered her boyfriend, then, as she...
Explore Poems: Elegy
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- By Layli Long SoldierHere, the sentence will be respected. I will compose each sentence with care, by minding what the rules...
- By Federico García Lorca1. La cogida y la muerte A las cinco de la tarde. Eran las cinco en punto de la tarde. Un niño trajo...
- By Federico García Lorca1 The Goring and the Death At five in the afternoon At the stroke of five The boy brought the white ...
- By Tracy K. Smith200 cows more than 600 hilly acres property would have been even larger had J not sold 66 acres to DuPont...
- By Gabriel RamirezI couldn’t be who I am today if it wasn’t for you being dead. It was time for glitter, nail polish, ...
- By Dylan ThomasDo not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against...
- By Assotto Saintwhere do you find strength to climb down the hill to your lover’s grave what do you bring but thirteen...
- By David St. JohnWho keeps the owl’s breath? Whose eyes desire? Why do the stars rhyme? Where does The flush cargo sail...
- By Jeanne LarsenIf I claim this poem presents the tundra swans we saw at first light, you might, wrongly, think of Yeats...
- By Thylias MossBecause all energy went into making him breathe dawn was not noticeable though on the beach it was bigger...
- By Audre LordeI have not ever seen my father’s grave. Not that his judgment eyes have been forgotten nor his great...
- By Cody SmithRemember when we almost drowned in ’03, the woods so thick we only knew the rainstorm by sound of thunder...
- By John KinsellaPollination against the seed to grow canopy and mark place in shades of green—dry here to reflect in...
- By Jack SpicerWhat are you thinking about? I am thinking of an early summer. I am thinking of wet hills in the rain...
- By Nam Lei Kubla Ché, dreaming of ancient Egypt, ate his hyacinths and was marvelous. Wherever you are is what...
- By William WordsworthWhen first, descending from the moorlands, I saw the Stream of Yarrow glide Along a bare and open valley...
- By Etheridge Knight1 There are no dry bones here in this valley. The skull of my father grins at the Mississippi moon from...
- By Ocean Vuongyellow plastic black sea eye-shaped shard on a darkened map no shores now to arrive — or depart no wind...
- By Stephen Derwent PartingtonCowards, let us sing in dead Elmolohow the elephants have died.We thank the cavemen, that they drew ...