By Andrew Frisardi
PRIMEAt dawn, the shapes of cypresses in fog
Were fingers pointing up from graves, as if what's born…
Were fingers pointing up from graves, as if what's born…
Explore Poems: Holidays
Showing 1-20 of 550 poems
- By Charles ReznikoffIn a world where each man must be of use
and each thing useful, the rebellious Jews
light not one light… - By Charles ReznikoffThe Jewess, Hadassah, takes the name of the moon-goddess, Esther;
her kinsman, Mordecai, whatever his… - By Charles ReznikoffThis was a season of our fathers' joy:
not only when they gathered grapes and the fruit of trees
in Israel… - By Richard BrautiganI saw thousands of pumpkins last night
come floating in on the tide,
bumping up against the rocks and
rolling… - By Felicia Dorothea HemansSee’st thou yon gray gleaming hall,
Where the deep elm-shadows fall?
Voices that have left the earth
… - By Chana BlochOn the holiest day we fast till sundown.
I watch the sun stand still
as the horizon edges toward it. Four… - By Lindsay TurnerSome yellow sunflowers open down the street,
A ladder is open beneath someone’s apple tree.
Beneath … - By William Butler YeatsMidnight has come and the great Christ Church bellAnd many a lesser bell sound through the room;And …
- By Karyna McGlynn& Memphis is out in Full Fang!
Skeletons skip down our pitted streets.
Whole families with matching hobo stipple
roam tragicomically through the sprawling
candy deserts: polka-dot bandanas
on sticks, flapping Chaplinesque shoes.
Unclaimed pumpkins pile high
behind razor wire. The air's thick
with caw & trouble. Our... - By Robert DuncanThis is the way it is. We see
three ages in one: the child Jesus
innocent of Jerusalem and Rome
- magically at home in joy -
that’s the year from which
our inner persistence has its force.
The second, Bergman shows us,
carries forward image after... - By Edwina Attleefrom here
I can see a rave and a jingling bell
an early morning settling around the edges
of the car boot sale and the football match
knocking gently at the sides of the exhibition
soap in the bath
apple in the water butt
the church is... - By Sharon OldsAnother Grand Jury
does not hand
an indictment down (“I Can’t Breathe”), and for a
moment it seems as if I could be dreaming,
the helicopters there in the dream,
the sharp, loud
sounds of the chopping
of the air, the cutting it in thousands of pieces,
fissioning... - By Angela JacksonBefore the doctor told me
I could not leave her,
Not even for fifteen minutes,
Twice a week
I would rumble-race out of that house,
Wind-zip down the street to the el,
Jump on to 87th,
Haul-dash to the gym,
Stomp the treadmill
For forty-five minutes,
Then pull heavy arms
And... - By Charif ShanahanThe open air had the predictable sparkle
After two months not only indoors
But flat on my back, waiting, mostly,
For the neck they kept cutting open to heal
So that when they wheeled me out through double
Doors and the tram passed across my... - By Terrance HayesThe rain falling on a night
in mid-December,
I pull to my father’s engine
wondering how long I’ll remember
this. His car is dead. He connects
jumper cables to his battery,
then to mine without looking in
at me and the child. Water... - By David WagonerUnder the sagging clotheslines of crepe paper
By the second string of teachers and wallflowers
In the school gym across the key through the glitter
Of mirrored light three-second rule forever
Suspended you danced with her the best slow dancer
Who stood on tiptoe who... - By Countee CullenThe many sow, but only the chosen reap;
Happy the wretched host if Day be brief,
That with the cool oblivion of sleep
A dawnless Night may soothe the smart of grief.
If from the soil our sweat enriches sprout
One meagre blossom for our... - By Countee CullenWherein are words sublime or noble? What
Invests one speech with haloed eminence,
Makes it the sesame for all doors shut,
Yet in its like sees but impertinence?
Is it the hue? Is it the cast of eye,
The curve of lip or Asiatic breath,
Which... - By Lewis MacAdamsJust to say that today
the female power is revealed
by the blue sky flapping
in the laundry
on the roof across the street.
I refer, of course,
to the quiet study and the
empty bed. The head
would be ruled by the heart today,
and by the sidewalk
drifting...