Posts tagged ‘2015’

Sunday, 19 July 2020

Ciara Calls Off Engagement to Future After He Cheated by Christopher Childers

—Us Weekly headline, 8/13/14

Isn’t it always like this? At the start
it’s chocolates, then a 15-carat ring
and you’re locked in: what will your Future bring?
Turns out, a baby and a broken heart.
Well, he can’t play you like that—you’re too smart.
You’ll hit the gym, go back to modeling,
and when the world is at your feet, you’ll sing.
The record of your heartbreak tops the chart.

But baby Future wants his Pops again,
and nightly crying spoils your beauty sleep.
Sometimes the mask beneath your mask won’t keep
the skeleton concealed beneath the skin.
Then the doorbell, and you smell something sweet:
chocolates in hand, it’s Future, that old cheat.

From: https://pankmagazine.com/piece/three-poems-55/

Date: 2015

By: Christopher Childers (19??- )

Saturday, 4 July 2020

U.S. by Jeffrey Yang

The U.S. is a small fish
with a false head; or a big fish
with false scales; or a dream
of the perfect fish
that turns into nightmare;
or a fish with a mouth as big
as an atom; or a secret fish
named Morgan, Mellon, Carlyle,
Rockefeller; or a fish that eats
its own tail; or an illegal
fish with respect to its own laws;
or a fish with a circulatory system
of black gold; or an army of robot fish;
or a fish that acts like it’s the only existing fish;
or a Japanese fish; or an Israeli fish;
or a fish that pollutes the whole sea;
or a fish that consumes the whole sea;
or a fish that ate its ancestors; or a
fish with a double life; or a fish
out of water hooked up to a respirator;
or a fried fish; or a fat fish; or a red fish;
or a fish unhappy with its own skin;
or a tin-straw-lion fish; or a Shiite Muslim
fish with a Protestant upbringing;
or a blind fish swimming thru a minefield;
or an extinct fish in a museum;
or a fish with fry full of hope;
or not really a fish but a gamba.

From: Yang, Jeffrey, “U.S.” in Brett Fletcher Lauer and Lynn Melnick (eds.), Please Excuse This Poem: 100 New Poets for the Next Generation, 2015, Viking: New York, pp. 95-96.
(https://books.google.com.au/books?id=4I3MAwAAQBAJ)

Date: 2015

By: Jeffrey Yang (1974- )

Sunday, 21 June 2020

Midsummer – Sweden by Bruce Louis Dodson

This sans sunset day
twilight till dawn
another summer solstice
endless clock of seasons.

Magic hours when animals can talk
and humans dream of lovers
dress the maypole
join in celebration
gatherings of thousands

celebrate until the early morning mist.

Life on earth reborn.

From: https://silverbirchpress.wordpress.com/2015/03/20/midsummer-sweden-by-bruce-louis-dodson-where-i-live-poetry-photography-series/

Date: 2015

By: Bruce Louis Dodson (19??- )

Friday, 19 June 2020

A Small Needful Fact by Ross Gay

Is that Eric Garner* worked
for some time for the Parks and Rec.
Horticultural Department, which means,
perhaps, that with his very large hands,
perhaps, in all likelihood,
he put gently into the earth
some plants which, most likely,
some of them, in all likelihood,
continue to grow, continue
to do what such plants do, like house
and feed small and necessary creatures,
like being pleasant to touch and smell,
like converting sunlight
into food, like making it easier
for us to breathe.

*Eric Garner, a 44-year-old African American man, died in 2014 after being put in a chokehold by a NYPD officer. His last words were “I can’t breathe”.

From: https://poets.org/poem/small-needful-fact

Date: 2015

By: Ross Gay (1974- )

Saturday, 13 June 2020

The Tradition by Jericho Brown

Aster. Nasturtium. Delphinium. We thought
Fingers in dirt meant it was our dirt, learning
Names in heat, in elements classical
Philosophers said could change us. Star Gazer.
Foxglove. Summer seemed to bloom against the will
Of the sun, which news reports claimed flamed hotter
On this planet than when our dead fathers
Wiped sweat from their necks. Cosmos. Baby’s Breath.
Men like me and my brothers filmed what we
Planted for proof we existed before
Too late, sped the video to see blossoms
Brought in seconds, colors you expect in poems
Where the world ends, everything cut down.
John Crawford. Eric Garner. Mike Brown.

From: https://poets.org/poem/tradition

Date: 2015

By: Jericho Brown (1976- )

Monday, 24 February 2020

9 March 1823 by Vasily Andreyevich Zhukovsky

You stood before me
So still and quiet,
Your gaze was languid
And full of feeling.
It summoned memories
Of days so lovely…
It was the final
One you gave me.

Now you have vanished,
A quite angel;
Your grave is peaceful,
As calm as Eden!
There rest all earthly
Recollections,
There rest all holy
Thoughts of heaven.

Heavenly stars,
Quiet night!

From: Dralyuk, Boris, “Three Poems from the Golden Age” in Pushkin Review, 2015-16, 18-19, p. 139.
(https://muse.jhu.edu/article/688665)

Date: 1823 (original in Russian); 2015 (translation in English)

By: Vasily Andreyevich Zhukovsky (1783-1852)

Translated by: Boris Dralyuk (19??- )

Monday, 25 November 2019

Tantaliad by Ana Gorría

A raft capsizing
in your gut;
a far-off sun,
an empire of thirst.

From: https://exchanges.uiowa.edu/issues/fledglings/gorria-siegert/

Date: 2005 (original in Spanish); 2015 (translation in English)

By: Ana Gorría (1979- )

Translated by: Yvette Siegert (19??-)

Thursday, 21 November 2019

Little Red by Peter Leight

Children are born brave,
hardly a day passes,
wedged into the hood like a soft room,
deliberate but not-always-knowing,
she has a lot on her mind,
her body is another story.
This is what she has:
a growing mind,
knowing body.
Or is it the other way around?
Hardly a day passes,
loosening her straps the way you leave a room without even thinking,
never wilting under cross examination,
she could have said
I don’t want any,
but she isn’t very good at word problems.
Her body is smooth,
her mind is rough
the way oysters are slippery while toast dries out.
Or is it the reverse?
It isn’t really an emergency, but the hunters arrive sooner or later,
they always promise to take you away.

From: http://columbiajournal.org/3-poems-by-peter-leight/

Date: 2015

By: Peter Leight (19??- )

Monday, 14 October 2019

Life and Limb by Hannah Stephenson

This is a song for the body that crumbles,
that does not fear its own enfeebling.

In one life you had a great ass.
There are bones beneath it.

This is a song for the mostly-obedient
body. The shaking foot that lifts.

Children guard other children walking
to school. Oh, beautiful crossing guards,

this is a song for the orange vests flapping
against your small bodies, uninflated

life jackets, for the stop signs you hold up
like torches as you wade into the street.

This is a song for the body protected,
the body desired, the body melting away.

From: https://www.splitlipmagazine.com/14-hannah-stephenson

Date: 2015

By: Hannah Stephenson (19??- )

Monday, 7 October 2019

Security Light by David Mason

The glow outside our window is no fallen star.
It is futility itself. It is the fear of night
a neighbor burns with, nightmare of a stubborn child.

I dreamed of chasing crows in a dark of sea fog
and no wind, the chill smell of kelp and changing things,
knowing the sea’s edge and the sand met where the fish lived.

I saw the waters running out to meet the water
coming in, the small crabs lifted off their claws.
I saw the trysting place of cormorants, the cliffs

of guarded nests where eagles watched like sated kings
alive, alive at the moving sand clock of the sea
where all’s dissolved, where earth itself is taken down.

From: https://www.sandiegoreader.com/news/2015/sep/09/poetry-four-poems-poet-laureate-colorado/#

Date: 2015

By: David Mason (1954- )