By E. Ethelbert Miller
“I can’t breathe,” he said.
But there was no air.
Only the absence of trees
and rope. The swaying
of…
But there was no air.
Only the absence of trees
and rope. The swaying
of…
Explore Poems: Emotions
Showing 1-20 of 9,018 poems
- By E. Ethelbert Milleri will die this month. how
i do not know. still there
is much work to be done. i
am afraid not for myself… - By E. Ethelbert Millerour friendship
is what keeps us whole
love is essential as air
prayer contains desire
to worship is… - By Mark WaldronI don’t want to say
things were indescribably
bad exactly
but things were
indescribably bad exactly… - By Austin AllenEven weeks after you went, they came:
Frontgate, Fresh Finds, Hearthsong—the names blurring,
the smiling… - By Abner Dormiendokung saan ako dinala ng aking mga paa,
latak ng alaalang nililigaw ako
na parang engkanto,
na parang… - By Abner DormiendoTranslated By Ethan ChuaI was dragged to by my feet,
memories misled me
with their leavings, an engkanto
made my native … - By Nay ThitBefore I was born, my mother says, there was another boy. My brother. One day, half-asleep during lunch…
- By Nate Marshallour vow—
if vowless by thirty
then us
was such
a stupid, childish way
to say love.
but love we were… - By E. Ethelbert MillerDear America, my love.
If my blackness turns to fruit
do not pull it from the vine;
let it grow from… - By Courtney KampaIt’s an hour before noon, and Amtrak train no. 56 rips a path
through the rain outside Baltimore,
its … - By Gabrielle CalvocoressiRemember how you didn’t fall yesterday
even though you thought you would?
Life can be like that all the… - By Darius Simpsondo you remember in fifth grade
when i was all of eighty pounds
soaking wet and fully clothed
i told you… - By Darius Simpsonbut i know better. i know poets like you don’t do no half-steppin. especially not on your way out. especially…
- By Courtney KampaA man sits across from me, patterned silk padlock
at his neck and orders us whatever
people drink from… - By Shann Rayi . sorrow is the curved ribcage of a beautiful death,
- By Gabrielle CalvocoressiNot an optimist. I lie awake at night and say the name
of everyone on the block and for three blocks … - By Pierre JorisIt wasn't even around Pentecost
and nothing was flowering
but it was an overheated day
mid-February & mid-town... - By Pierre JorisYou should, once I’m gone, mourn only as long
as you hear the bell, the dark one, from the tower;
as long… - By Pierre Joriswake up in pre-
dawn Brooklyn,
make water, heat water, squeeze
lemon, crush home-grown (at Joseph’s
on 68th…