By Frank X Walker
We held hands for the first time
on his deathbed, which would have been
insignificant had we at least …
on his deathbed, which would have been
insignificant had we at least …
Explore Poems: Death
Showing 1-20 of 2,180 poems
- By Dāshaun WashingtonThe news said an unidentified man died today
in an accident involving several stray bullets,
fired … - By Ricardo ReisWise is the man who contents himself with the spectacle of the world,
Who, when he drinks, has no memory… - By Ricardo ReisTranslated By Margaret Jull Costa & Patricio FerrariSabio é o que se contenta com o espectaculo do mundo,
E ao beber nem recorda
Que já bebeu na vida,
Para… - By Ricardo ReisNão quero recordar nem conhecer-me.
Somos demais se olhamos em quem somos.
Ignorar que vivemos
Cumpre bastante… - By Ricardo ReisTranslated By Margaret Jull Costa & Patricio FerrariI do not want to remember or to know myself.
We just get in the way if we look into who we are.
Not knowing… - By Ricardo ReisAmo o que vejo porque deixarei
Qualquer dia de o ver.
Amo-o tambem porque é.
No placido intervallo … - By Ricardo ReisTranslated By Margaret Jull Costa & Patricio FerrariI love what I see because one day
I will cease to see it.
And simply because it is.
In this placid interval… - By Sunnylyn ThibodeauxStorm comes like Gorgon slither
Gorgon wingspan
Sound is someplace else
like head under water someplace… - By Cara DeesThe year the local woman was murdered and her body
fed to dogs, we slipped vanilla gloss over our lips… - By Larry LevisI had already decided that a thing could not be seen
For the thing it was, when I looked up & waved … - By Frank X WalkerBoth of them were history, even before one
pulled the trigger, before I rocketed through
the smoking barrel… - By Frank X WalkerNobody slept. We just lay there stretched out
on the floor like we did when we were kids,
all lined up… - By Elisa GabbertLook at a painting of sky. Look
a long time and notice one thing.
How someone’s wet eye stares back
like… - By Sara ElkamelI am pleased I will soon die and with me the pressing need to make a terrible, terribly poignant film…
- By Shlagha BorahWhen my grandfather was on his deathbed, he didn’t
move toward the light. At his feet, there were four… - By E. Ethelbert MillerAfter reading my obituary
folks went to their local bookstores
looking for my books. For a few days… - By Austin AllenEven weeks after you went, they came:
Frontgate, Fresh Finds, Hearthsong—the names blurring,
the smiling… - By Austin AllenKeyed up after a sleepless flight,
we stared at the Place de la Comédie:
the stone Graces glowing pink… - By Nay ThitBefore I was born, my mother says, there was another boy. My brother. One day, half-asleep during lunch…