By Rigoberto González
Boys will be boys, the saying goes,
even if that boy will one day
age into Messiah. One would
never guess…
even if that boy will one day
age into Messiah. One would
never guess…
Explore Poems: Youth
Showing 1-20 of 428 poems
- By Inua EllamsWe were wild children / we moved through space / like blades
We were tame children / we fell to sleep… - By Marianne ChanAt the playground, my mother hid from me, I couldn’t find her, and I called her name a thousand times…
- By Li BaiTranslated By Keith HolyoakBack when my hair barely covered my forehead
I was picking flowers in front of the gate.
You rode over… - By Mitchell GlazierStiletto melon collies, a tinsel mystic streaks our homeplace.
Lantern flies triple from the sleeping… - By Heidi WilliamsonYou’re fifteen and nowhere in a town on the edge of pitiful lands stripped of fruit. The burger van’…
- By Kate PartridgeThe dentist is now the same
age as me, which is troubling,
mostly because of what I
have and have not done… - By Joshua BennettFor the sake of argument, let’s say
the day my father outlawed all contact
between backhand and face, … - By ire’ne lara silvathey announce us Valentina Covarrubias montada en Viento
my girl does not cower does not wave or smile… - By Yi LiI love cherries.
The fruit, juice, jam,
blossoms, prints on a summer
dress, in a black forest cake… - By Sarah CarsonThe first gun we knew came in a toolbox for the apocalypse: hammer, barrel, crushed can, pack of Newports…
- By Anastasia Taylor-Lindv.
Isn’t it dangerous to be a woman? Surrounded by men, questions
about risk-taking, parenting (I’m childless… - By Carole Boston WeatherfordGazing at the sky, all cloud-strewn
A child wonders, Where’s my moon?
Child cries a river like a monsoon… - By Anya JohnsonAfter the storm, Zach and the girls sprawled on the dock,
legs disappeared in the lake. They were arguing… - By Phil Kayeand yes it does beg
the question why
a nine-year-old needs
two twenty-dollar bills still
sticky and … - By Tamsin MooreLong, empty roads stretching as long as the gas tank is willing—
Sixty-seven dollars left from last … - By Abriella Guertintwin plaits down my freckled back shining in suburban sunlight. my mother’s hands made…
- By Damien McClendonsuppose you’re eight
a crow drowns in the dishwater
black plum
-age all over the place.
your mother… - By Karl KnightsIt’s Boxing Day and I’m nearly ten and a half.
I got the camouflaged Action Man for Christmas.
I told … - By Louise ErdrichAugust and the drive-in picture is packed.
We lounge on the hood of the Pontiac
surrounded by the slow…