By JP Howard
If I should ever forget you, this is my love note to you You were loved You were somebody’s lover You...
Explore Poems: Memory & Nostalgia
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- By John MurilloFor me, the movie starts with a black man Leaping into an orbit of badges, tiny moons Catching the sheen...
- By Georg TraklFull of harmonies is the flight of birds. The green woods Have closed about the stiller huts at evening...
- By Georg TraklAt evening they bore the stranger into the death parlor; a scent of tar; the faint rustling of red sycamores...
- By Lynn EmanuelLove is boring and passé, all that old baggage, the bloody bric-a-brac, the bad, the gothic, retrograde...
- By Kevin PruferThe brutality of those two men who broke into her apartment and murdered her boyfriend, then, as she...
- By Maurya SimonDelirium in the downtown mall today: Burt Reynolds! All the henna-haired girls sneer, while their mothers...
- By Ted HughesI climbed through woods in the hour-before-dawn dark. Evil air, a frost-making stillness, Not a leaf...
- By Kara van de GraafThe water was so still I believed it would keep us right-side up forever there in that pool on a night...
- By Nikki GiovanniI watched Mommy Cook Though I cooked With Grandmother With Grandmother I learned To pluck chickens Peel...
- By Lorna Dee CervantesWe were so poor. The air was a quiver of thoughts we drew from to poise, unsaid in the ineffable world...
- By Patricia Smith62. You would have been 62. I would have given you a Roosevelt Road kinda time, an all-night jam in ...
- By Kwoya Fagin MaplesMy brother still bites his nails to the quick, but lately he’s been allowing them to grow. So much hurt...
- By Pablo OtavaloIn midsentence. Like a pregnant sow in another mud- and mire-laden trench, your hay-stuffed midland ...
- By Tennessee HillSharing the lap belt, we slide imperfectly into each other as Dad speeds through an overpass. His daddy...
- By Beth Ann FennellyWhen my sister and I would meet at her apartment before heading out to bars, I would choose my clothes...
- By Aileen CassinettoOcean-born, I was always bound to come home to a sea that has no memory of me save for my stars, long...
- By JoAnn Balingitmy filipino father’s art was to christen each child with a mother’s memory held close over centuries...
- By Marlanda DekineGrandma Thelma told me if I slept on my back a hag would ride me and I’d never return, so I trained ...
