Lend your ears I have other ways To enamour your heart Hark! My calligraphy Lending your ears On the wings of a butterfly – One flower to the next ** Colour of my grief I puff up the earth A little more, from Under my grave To see you blooming Colour of my grief – The blood of my poppies Rooting the nerves, inside ** Scarecrow of the night You have been So easy upon me Like a butterfly of my dreams Yet, the reality; outside was maintaining an eerie silence in this turbulent night I settled down With an imagery of the fore Cozy in my sleep Yet the evil spirit of the night Was hell bent over frightening me, with its Scarecrow imagery ** Trollybag I was all seeing – You, that were…
“Pain of the Poet,” Assamese Poetry by Guna Moran
PAIN OF THE POET Original: Assamese: Guna Moran Translation: Bibekananda Choudhury Creator means poet So many innumerable poems did my mother write In the fresh leaf of the heart From the date she conceived me in her womb Who has bothered about the silent poet? I don’t know how much help I could be Having now understood the value of labour of the creator At least I could discover my sangfroid brother As I write My mother lovingly serves a cup of tea And says, looking at me From the corner of her eyes “Poem is one only Only writer is different But the pain of all the poets are All the same” The sun is burning to light others— Fuel cannot give light to others Without burning itself Don’t write much My darling I…
Carolyn Adams — Art and Poetry
“Epiphany” In the Absence of Red Alarms My blood sisters remember what I’ve almost forgotten, the menses that measure our time. I’ve lapsed my membership in that club, I travel free from the 30-day clock. My time is counted differently now. Days are years, years are millennia, millennia are without measure at all. There is no monthly debt; all accounts have been balanced. I spend myself as I wish now, with no child or threat of one. I’ve reached a bargain with the planets, their moons, the sky and all of its diamonds. I won’t wish on anything anymore. I have what I need. Days pass quietly here in the corner of the universe where I savor the slight air of a spring night, where my steps have taken 60 years to make sense. I…
“Points to Make,” Poetry by John Grey
POINTS TO MAKE Today began like a heart on fire. In between there was this hot-cold-hot-cold movement to establish the fact of me. It ended like a man with something to bury. I woke to the sight of a burning house, instructing firemen where to point their hoses. Family units are brittle. I’ve known this all along. I fell asleep that night like someone on a long, long highway. There must be something here about love – no, yearning – that’s it. In future excavation, you who yearn to uncover the ancient will find nothing but ancient yearning. Today, everything moved. It tried to leave me behind but I kept seeing me by my side. By night, I’d made it. I vowed to teach the light – teach it something new. I’m who I am…
FC Celebrates National Poetry Month!
National Poetry Month 2022 The Academy of American Poets launched National Poetry Month in 1996 to increase awareness and appreciation of poetry. Celebrated every April, it has become one of the largest literary celebrations in the world. To celebrate the twenty-sixth anniversary of National Poetry Month, we are honored to introduce the amazing poets featured here. Please read their works and support their ongoing projects. Some ways you can participate: write a poem, listen to a poetry podcast, or buy some poetry books (from our list of poets or others you discover). Helpful Links:Poets.orgPoetry FoundationPodcast ReviewPoetry Podcasts ** “Games“Yong Takahashi(From Yong’s memoir, Observations Through Yellow Glasses: A Memoir Through Poems) Every card I put on the table, you take away in plain sight. At the flop, you say I don’t need any distractions. Too many…