All of the missing plastic is in the garage. when you ask to write inside of my writing. when you drop me off in the K-Mart parking lot and say you will be back later. the minimal is close by a horse farm. At birthday parties he would pull me on his lap. I wanted to be on the swings. No one was watching. lift the window and let the snow come in the room. play in the snow. make angels in the snow. now i am walking home from dance…
Read MoreCategory: بین الاقوامی ادب International Literature
Poem for my Father by Quincy Troupe
father, it was an honor to be there, in the dugout with you, the glory of great black men swinging their lives as bats, at tiny white balls burning in at unbelievable speeds, riding up & in & out a curve breaking down wicked, like a ball falling off a table moving away, snaking down, screwing its stitched magic into chitlin circuit air, its comma seams spinning toward breakdown, dipping, like a hipster bebopping a knee-dip stride, in the charlie parker forties wrist curling, like a swan’s neck behind a…
Read MoreFive Landscapes by Cole Swensen
One Green moves through the tops of trees and grows lighter greens as it recedes, each of which includes a grey, and among the greys, or beyond them, waning finely into white, there is one white spot, absolute; it could be an egret or perhaps a crane at the edge of the water where it meets a strip of sand. Two There is a single, almost dazzling white spot of a white house out loud against the fields, and the forest in lines receding, rises, and then planes.…
Read MoreAnne Frank’s High Heels by Phillis Levin
When Miep took us home with her She held us up in the air, Eye-level with those eyes You may know, eyes spelling Sorrow-girl, wait-for-me, Happiness-around-a-corner- One-day, hurry-back, don’t-tell. Two new hands took us in, Skin cradling skin. How empty we had been, Only a little bit worn — Not a penny, not a pebble Dwelling within. We became an altar, An offering red as wine, A wishing well. She was made to carry us Near and far, We were made to bear The pressure of her feet In darkness, in…
Read MoreOregon Trail by Nate Marshall
For my great aunt & Jonathan Hicks My first venture west was in Windows 98 or Independence, Missouri. class in the computer lab & we were supposed to be playing some typing game or another. the one i remember had a haunted theme. ghosts instructing us on the finer points of where to put our fingers. these were the last days before keyboards as appendage, when typing was not nature. i should’ve been letting an apparition coach me through QWERTY but rather I was at the general store deciding between…
Read MoreThe New Colossus by Emma Lazarus
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame, With conquering limbs astride from land to land; Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame. “Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.…
Read MoreThe Road not taken By Robert Frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,And sorry I could not travel bothAnd be one traveler, long I stoodAnd looked down one as far as I couldTo where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair,And having perhaps the better claim,Because it was grassy and wanted wear;Though as for that the passing thereHad worn them really about the same, And both that morning equally layIn leaves no step had trodden black.Oh, I kept the first for another day!Yet knowing how way leads on to way,I…
Read MoreHope is the Thing With Feathers by Emily Dickenson
“Hope” is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul And sings the tune without the words And never stops – at all And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard And sore must be the storm That could abash the little Bird That kept so many warm I’ve heard it in the chillest land And on the strangest Sea Yet – never – in Extremity, It asked a crumb – of me.
Read Moreتیمور شاہ دُرانی ۔۔۔ جانِ من، آرامِ من، صبر و قرارِ من کجاست
جانِ من، آرامِ من، صبر و قرارِ من کجاست؟ جانم آمد بر لبم آن غمگسارِ من کجاست؟ جمعِ خوبان کرده از اِمروز، آہنگِ شکار دلبرِ صیدافگن آہوشکارِ من کجاست؟ ساقی و نقل و شراب و شیشہ و پیمانہ است شمعِ بزم و بادہ نوش و مَیگسارِ من کجاست؟ تیرہ شد روزم چو شب، بی نورِ شمعِ رویِ او مونسِ جان و دل و شبہایِ تارِ من کجاست؟ در گلستان خونِ دل از دیدہ میریزد مرا در میانِ گلرخان آن گلعذارِ من کجاست؟ سروِ گلشن شد شہِ تیمور، حقِ قُمریان سروِ…
Read Moreصائب تبریزی
مُریدِ مولویِ رُوم تا نشد صائب نکرد در کمرِ عرش دست گُفتارش
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