Don’t speak to me of sorghum Red fields, pressed up toward a sky Whatever called to me there Too wild, attempting a face Old verses for my father Dignify the cooling page Black earth is the word it makes Tilts forward, consequential — Wendy Xu
Continue reading...
Like liquid shadows. The ice is thin Whose mirror smears them as it intercepts withdrawing colours; and where the crust, as if a skin livid with tautening scars… — by Charles Tomlinson
Continue reading...
It has been solemn traveling A night and a day This road running straightly northwards; None went my way. — Rosamund Dargan Thomson
Continue reading...
The morning may be brilliant; the season is one of brilliances—sunlight through the fountained willow behind us, its splayed shadow spreading westward, our shadows westward, irregular across damp grass, the close-set stones. — Michael Anania
Continue reading...
… nothing can stop the truth of it art is all we can say to reverse the chain of events and make a pileup of passion to match the stars No choice but between a certain variation hard to perceive in a shade of blue…
Continue reading...
Green was the forest drenched with shadows the roads were serpentine A redwood tree stood alone with its lean and lit body unable to follow the cars that went by with frenzy a tree is always an immutable traveller. — by Etel Annan
Continue reading...
Color is new upon each sunlit surface; lifting lines are reimbursed with flight; cool and level lie the planes of morning covered with light. — by Edith Henrich
Continue reading...
虚斋寂寂茶烟细， 小瓶斜插数枝梅。 An empty study, silent – tea vapor softly curls; Plum sprigs tilt in a slender vase. — Hallucinated by Deepseek
Continue reading...
The air is like a butterfly With frail blue wings. The happy earth looks at the sky. And sings. —Joyce Kilmer
Continue reading...
O sages standing in God’s holy fire As in the gold mosaic of a wall, Come from the holy fire, Verne in a gyre, And be the singing-masters of my soul. Consume my heart away; sick with desire And fastened to a dying animal It…
Continue reading...
I’ll twine white violets and the myrtle green; Narcissus will I twine and lilies sheen; I’ll twine sweet crocus and the hyacinth blue; And last I twine the rose, love’s token true: That all may form a wreath of beauty, meet To deck my Heliodora’s…
Continue reading...
One evening in winter when nothing has been enough, when the days are too short, the nights too long and cheerless, the secret and docile buds of the apple blossoms begin their quick ascent to light. Night after interminable night the sugars pucker and swell…
Continue reading...
If we watch the trail And listen to the trees; Squirrels chatter In ancient languages, A moon can rise From behind a flower, You will capture The wind with your hair, The sun with your eyes, And balance your burden So it is light. —…
Continue reading...
Upon the hard crest of a snow-drift We tread, and grown quiet, we walk On towards my house, white, enchanted; Our mood is too tender for talk. — ANNA AKHMATOVA
Continue reading...
天涯也有江南信, 梅破知春近。 夜阑风细得香迟, 不道晓来开遍、向南枝。 – 黄庭坚《虞美人·宜州見梅作》 Even at the edge of the world, whispers of Jiangnan unfold, Plum blossoms burst, proclaiming spring’s approach. Late in the night, their fragrance drifts on a tender breeze. Unaware that by dawn, blooms full on south-facing branches. — Huang…
Continue reading...
I go down to the edge of the sea. How everything shines in the morning light! The cusp of the whelk, the broken cupboard of the clam, the opened, blue mussels, moon snails, pale pink and barnacle scarred— and nothing at all whole or shut,…
Continue reading...
time has acquired a stillness, the hour breathes over a wine jug, it’s late, the last blows have been traded, a clinch and a hang on the ropes before the bell—I give the world to anyone who wants it, let them be happy: — Gottfried…
Continue reading...
O’er the glad waters of the dark blue sea, Our thoughts as boundless, and our soul’s as free Far as the breeze can bear, the billows foam, Survey our empire, and behold our home! — George Gordon Byron (1788–1824)
Continue reading...
Cat, enough of your greedy whining and your small pink bumhole. Off my face! You’re the life principle, more or less, so get going on a little optimism around here. Get rid of death. Celebrate increase. Make it be spring. — Margaret Atwood
Continue reading...
When I think how far the onion has traveled just to enter my stew today, I could kneel and praise all small forgotten miracles, crackly paper peeling on the drainboard, pearly layers in smooth agreement, the way the knife enters onion and onion falls apart…
Continue reading...