By Leslie Sainz
Jerry wants to argue about the existentialists again
but I am purposefully disinterested, alarmingly …
but I am purposefully disinterested, alarmingly …
Explore Poems: Philosophy
Showing 1-20 of 1,062 poems
Filter Results
- By William Butler YeatsI
I walk through the long schoolroom questioning;
A kind old nun in a white hood replies;
The children learn to cipher and to sing,
To study reading-books and history,
To cut and sew, be neat in everything
In the best modern way—the children's eyes
In momentary... - By Lev RubinsteinTranslated By Tatiana Tulchinsky & Philip Metres1
Well, what on earth is there to say?
2
He knows something, but won’t tell.
3
Who knows, maybe you’re … - By G.C. WaldrepTwo underworlds, in Poussin.
The one touched by the force
of necessity, the other
remaining untouched.
Simone Weil makes her way
to the refectory
in Ashford. She walks slowly
down the corridors, with
or without help.
The hem of her gown brushes
the maculate plaster
of the long wall.
She could live... - By CAConradFrank is a
young boy
asleep in
ancient
Tibet
what you
thought was
your life is
really his
dream
he may
wake at any
moment - By CAConradFrank knows a
butterfly
who wonders
about her old
caterpillar
friends - By Xuela ZhangThe unexpected
intervals in his tone
converged into
another type of image,
a switch from the voice
of someone into
the lower, clearer voice
of someone’s translator.
In college, Saskia said
a group of psychologists
had asked people to spit
into a cup of water,
and drink. Nobody would.
But it came out... - By Cole SwensenGiven: The trees along a river seem constantly in motion; perhaps it’s the rhythm inherent in their equidistant planting, inciting a sense of walking, or perhaps it’s the movement of the river itself, a visio-kinetic echo connected to the viewer....
- By Catherine BarnettTo answer Kant’s last question she should take the curtains from her eyes
and lay them on the bed.
She should stand on her head and dream,
empty herself of I, I, I, I.
She should walk inside the living and the dead,
become some... - By Norman FinkelsteinYou enter the city with harps and with flutes,
with drums and with baskets
of grapes and pomegranates.
You enter the city of blue ash and blue spruce,
that terraced city rumored of the spirit.
You come there as would a fire,
but neither you nor... - By CAConradGrowing up in a rural factory town I watched my creative family extend the grind oft monotonous jobs outside the factory walls and into their lives until they were no longer capable of accessing their artistic abilities. The factory essentially...
- By UnknownTranslated By Roy M. LiuzzaAlways the one alone longs for mercy,
the Maker's mildness, though, troubled in mind,
across the ocean-ways he has long been forced
co stir with his hands the frost-cold sea,
and walk in exile's paths. Wyrd is fully fixed.
Thus spoke the... - By UnknownHere begynnes a tretys and god schorte refreytebytwixe Wynnere and Wastoure
Sythen that Bretayne was biggede and Bruyttus it aughte,
Thurgh the takynge of Troye with tresone withinn,
There hathe selcouthes bene sene in seere kynges tymes,
Bot never so many as nowe by... - By Elizabeth Willisin the wind / an inky air
in the air / finchness
in the ink / a stone
in the winter / winter
in the nest / in the piney
in the tree / filigree
in the great / bye and bye
in the worm / William... - By T. S. EliotWebster was much possessed by death
And saw the skull beneath the skin;
And breastless creatures under ground
Leaned backward with a lipless grin.
Daffodil bulbs instead of balls
Stared from the sockets of the eyes!
He knew that thought clings round dead limbs
Tightening its lusts... - By Angelina Weld GrimkéI have just seen a most beautiful thing
Slim and still
Against a gold, gold sky,
A straight black cypress,
Sensitive,
Exquisite,
A black finger
Pointing upwards.
Why, beautiful still finger, are you black?
And why arc you pointing upwards? - By Katie WillinghamLately, I've enlisted an app on my phone to keep track
of the time that I can't witness—it maps the dark blanket
of missing consciousness, a jagged line. Best night/worst night,
it says, though I remember neither.... - By Katie WillinghamWe know the last stuffed specimen of the dodo burned
in 1755, though Wikipedia's "Dodo: Talk" page shows
sources conflict on whether the fire was an accident
or intentional. They say it had started to smell. The... - By Moon Bo YoungTranslated By Hedgie ChoiThe research center is a cube building with a neat chimney plunged into the right side. The researchers are covered head to toe in white cloth. Unrelatedly, they are sexless. They don't draw lakes in forests. They don't play classic...