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1. Hard Evidence by Timothy Liu
A room walled-in by books where the hours withdraw.
At the foot of an unmade bed a bird of paradise.
Motel carpet melted where an iron had been.
His attention anchored to a late night glory hole.
Of janitorial carts no heaviness like theirs.
Desire seen cavorting with the yes inside the no.
A soul kiss swimming solo in an open wound.
The self as church where the whores now gather in.
2. Red Cloth by Jean Valentine
Red cloth
I lie on the ground
otherwise nothing could hold
I put my hand on the ground
the membrane is gone
and nothing does hold
your place in the ground
is all of it
and it is breathing
3. A Clear Midnight by Walt Whitman
This is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless,
Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson
done,
Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the
themes thou lovest best,
Night, sleep, death and the stars.
4. Water Music by Robert Creeley
The words are a beautiful music.
The words bounce like in water.
Water music,
loud in the clearing
off the boats,
birds, leaves.
They look for a place
to sit and eat--
no meaning,
no point
5. Te Deum by Charles Reznikoff
Not because of victories
I sing,
having none,
but for the common sunshine,
the breeze,
the largess of the spring.
Not for victory
but for the day's work done
as well as I was able;
not for a seat upon the dais
but at the common table.
6. Nothing Gold Can Stay by Robert Frost
Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
I appreciate Robert Frost's poetry because he usually writes about simple settings in nature or simple facts of life that are often over looked. "Nothing Gold Can Stay" is my favorite poem of his because he expresses simultaneous feelings of joy and sorrow towards nature. It makes you understand the beauty of the process nature goes through with the seasons changing. I also like how he uses an Allusion to the bible to better convey that this process has always been and always will be the way it happens.
7. El Dorado by Edgar Allan Poe
Gaily bedight,
A gallant knight,
In sunshine and in shadow,
Had journeyed long,
Singing a song,
In search of Eldorado.
But he grew old,
This knight so bold,
And o'er his heart a shadow
Fell as he found
No spot of ground
That looked like Eldorado.
And, as his strength
Failed him at length,
He met a pilgrim shadow;
"Shadow," said he,
"Where can it be,
This land of Eldorado?"
"Over the mountains
Of the moon,
Down the valley of the shadow,
Ride, boldly ride,"
The shade replied,--
"If you seek for Eldorado!"
This is a wonderful piece by Poe describing how he feels about those that strive for impossible goals. The reason this particular poem is special to me is that it is an abnormal piece for Poe. Usually his works are filled with direct sorrow and strange details that offset normal people. They also are usually longer than this one and contain more of a developing story. I think the dark element of Poe in this poem however is the shade that tells the man where to go. It describes to the man the he must travel "Over the mountains/Of the moon,/Down the valley of the shadow," if he wants to get to Eldorado. This, to me, is figurative for how the only result to chasing an impossible dream is despair and disappointment.
8. Quilts by Nikki Giovanni
Like a fading piece of cloth
I am a failure
No longer do I cover tables filled with food and laughter
My seams are frayed my hems falling my strength no longer able
To hold the hot and cold
I wish for those first days
When just woven I could keep water
From seeping through
Repelled stains with the tightness of my weave
Dazzled the sunlight with my
Reflection
I grow old though pleased with my memories
The tasks I can no longer complete
Are balanced by the love of the tasks gone past
I offer no apology only
this plea:
When I am frayed and strained and drizzle at the end
Please someone cut a square and put me in a quilt
That I might keep some child warm
And some old person with no one else to talk to
Will hear my whispers
And cuddle
near
9. Poetry Is a Destructive Force by Wallace Stevens
That's what misery is,
Nothing to have at heart.
It is to have or nothing.
It is a thing to have,
A lion, an ox in his breast,
To feel it breathing there.
Corazon, stout dog,
Young ox, bow-legged bear,
He tastes its blood, not spit.
He is like a man
In the body of a violent beast.
Its muscles are his own . . .
The lion sleeps in the sun.
Its nose is on its paws.
It can kill a man.
10. Basket of Figs by Ellen Bass
Bring me your pain, love. Spread it out like fine rugs, silk sashes, warm eggs, cinnamon and cloves in burlap sacks. Show me the detail, the intricate embroidery on the collar, tiny shell buttons, the hem stitched the way you were taught, pricking just a thread, almost invisible. Unclasp it like jewels, the gold still hot from your body. Empty your basket of figs. Spill your wine. That hard nugget of pain, I would suck it, cradling it on my tongue like the slick seed of pomegranate. I would lift it tenderly, as a great animal might carry a small one in the private cave of the mouth.
11. Hole in the Earth by The Deftones
Can you explain to me how
You're so evil (how?)
It's too late for me now
There's a hole in the earth (a hole in earth)
There's a hole in the earth (a hole in the earth)
I'm out..
Can you explain to me now
If you're still able well...
I think you know the truth
There's a hole in the earth (a hole in the earth)
I'm out
I hate all of my friends
They all lack taste sometimes
There's a hole in the earth
I'm out..
There's a hole in the earth
Please take a bow...
This is the end (somewhere)
This is the end
Somewhere...
There's a hole in the earth
There's a hole in the earth
I hate all of my friends
I'm out...
There's a hole in the earth
Hey..
Somewhere
12. Balance by Adam Zagajewski
I watched the arctic landscape from above and thought of nothing, lovely nothing. I observed white canopies of clouds, vast expanses where no wolf tracks could be found. I thought about you and about the emptiness that can promise one thing only: plenitude— and that a certain sort of snowy wasteland bursts from a surfeit of happiness. As we drew closer to our landing, the vulnerable earth emerged among the clouds, comic gardens forgotten by their owners, pale grass plagued by winter and the wind. I put my book down and for an instant felt a perfect balance between waking and dreams. But when the plane touched concrete, then assiduously circled the airport's labryinth, I once again knew nothing. The darkness of daily wanderings resumed, the day's sweet darkness, the darkness of the voice that counts and measures, remembers and forgets.
13. Yourself the Sun by Arthur Gorges
Yourself the sun, and I the melting frost,
Myself the flax and you the kindly fire,
Yourself the maze wherein my self is lost,
I your disdain, yet you my heart's desire,
Your love the port whereto my fancies sail,
My hope the ship whose helm your fair hand guides,
Your grace the wind that must my course avail
My faith the flood, your frowns the ebbing tides,
Yourself the spring and I the toiling bee.
My thoughts in you, though yours elsewhere, do rest.
You are the brook and I the deer embossed
My heaven is you, yet you torment my ghost.14. Famous by Naomi Shihab Nye
The river is famous to the fish. The loud voice is famous to silence, which knew it would inherit the earth before anybody said so. The cat sleeping on the fence is famous to the birds watching him from the birdhouse. The tear is famous, briefly, to the cheek. The idea you carry close to your bosom is famous to your bosom. The boot is famous to the earth, more famous than the dress shoe, which is famous only to floors. The bent photograph is famous to the one who carries it and not at all famous to the one who is pictured. I want to be famous to shuffling men who smile while crossing streets, sticky children in grocery lines, famous as the one who smiled back. I want to be famous in the way a pulley is famous, or a buttonhole, not because it did anything spectacular, but because it never forgot what it could do.
15. Utensils by Richard O. Moore
An available palette thickened by air words I hold and so fast lose. A thunder so low an inaudible present its slow cycles place me shaking in its throat. Stare and beauty opens like a work of fire a made thing a connection must be made. This is to say necessity is a place made all of stares come beauty come the final ruin of the world. Stop : for what it may be or was a burned-in-after-flash of fire over distance measured light years. The glamour of it all.
This poem features my favorite white space use I have in my entire collection. It's almost as if the poet used white space instead of punctuation, especially commas. I also think it's notable how often the elements are mentioned throughout. In the first stanza it's air, in the second, thunder is mentioned, and in the third and the fifth stanzas, fire comes up. I believe there is some connection to all of these occurrences because in the only stanza without a mention to an element, the fourth one, talks about the ruin of the Earth. This poem is very difficult to find meaning in, but perhaps it has to do with the destruction of our planet should all of the elements become unbalanced.
16. Sonnet 7 by Petrarch
The soote season, that bud and bloom forth brings With green hath clad the hill and eke the vale; The nightingale with feathers new she sings; And turtle to her make hath told her tale. Summer is come, for every spray now springs; The hart hath hung his old head on the pale; The buck in brake his winter coat he flings; The fishes flete with new repairèd scale; The adder all her slough away she slings; The swift swalllow pursueth the flies small; The busy bee her honey now she mings; Winter is worn that was the flowers' bale. And thus I see among these pleasant things Each care decays, and yet my sorrow springs.
17. Poet's Work by Lorine Niedecker
Grandfather advised me: Learn a trade I learned to sit at desk and condense No layoffs from this condensery
For this being my shortest and most minimal poem in my whole collection, I have a surprising amount to say about it. First of all, I love the sheer sarcastic irony that the author conveys in this poem. It's almost as if she wrote it for her grandfather to show him that she loves her trade, but she knows it is a very different kind of job and probably not what he had in mind when he told her to go out and learn something. I think poems like this one are very much needed for a form of comic relief from the mostly serious and challenging poetry in our society.
18. Echoes by Barbara Guest
Once more riding down to Venice on borrowed horses,
the air free of misdemeanor, at rest in the inns of our fathers.
Once again whiteness like the white chandelier.
Echoes of other poems...
19. Rural Illusions by William Wordsworth
Sylph was it? or a Bird more bright
Than those of fabulous stock?
A second darted by;--and lo!
Another of the flock,
Through sunshine flitting from the bough
To nestle in the rock.
Transient deception! a gay freak
Of April's mimicries!
Those brilliant strangers, hailed with joy
Among the budding trees, Proved last year's leaves, pushed from the spray
To frolic on the breeze.
Maternal Flora! show thy face,
And let thy hand be seen,
Thy hand here sprinkling tiny flowers,
That, as they touch the green,
Take root (so seems it) and look up
In honour of their Queen.
Yet, sooth, those little starry specks,
That not in vain aspired To be confounded with live growths,
Most dainty, most admired,
Were only blossoms dropt from twigs
Of their own offspring tired.
Not such the World's illusive shows;
'Her' wingless flutterings,
Her blossoms which, though shed, outbrave
The floweret as it springs,
For the undeceived, smile as they may,
Are melancholy things: But gentle Nature plays her part
With ever-varying wiles,
And transient feignings with plain truth
So well she reconciles,
That those fond Idlers most are pleased
Whom oftenest she beguiles.20. She Dwelt Among The Untrodden Ways by William Wordsworth
She dwelt among the untrodden ways
Beside the springs of Dove,
A Maid whom there were none to praise
And very few to love:
A violet by a mossy stone
Half hidden from the eye!
--Fair as a star, when only one
Is shining in the sky.
She lived unknown, and few could know
When Lucy ceased to be; But she is in her grave, and, oh,
The difference to me!21. Opiate by Tool
Choices always were a problem for you.
What you need is someone strong to guide you.
Deaf and blind and dumb and born to follow,
what you need is someone strong to guide you..
like me, like me, like me, like me
If you want to get your soul to heaven, trust in me.
Now don't judge or question.
You are broken now, but faith can heal you.
Just do everything I tell you to do.
Deaf and blind and dumb and born to follow.
What you need is someone strong to guide you.
Deaf and blind and dumb and born to follow.
Let me lay my holy hand upon you.
My Gods will becomes me.
When he speaks out, he speaks through me.
He has needs like I do.
We both want to rape you.
[x2]
Jesus Christ, why don't you come save my life now
Open my eyes and blind me with your light
If you want to get your soul to heaven, trust in me.
Now don't you judge or question.
You are broken now, but faith can heal you.
Just do everything I tell you to do.
[x2]
Jesus Christ, why don't you come save my life now.
Open my eyes, blind me with your light now.
Deaf and blind and dumb and born to follow,
Let me lay my holy hand upon you.
My Gods will becomes me.
When he speaks, he speaks through me.
He has needs like I do.
We both want to rape you
22. A Certain Shade of Green by Incubus
A certain shade of green,
tell me, is that what you need?
All signs around say move ahead.
Could someone please explain to me your ever present
lack of speed?
Are your muscles bound by ropes?
Or do crutches cloud your day?
My sources say the road is clear,
and street signs point the way.
Are you gonna stand around till 2012 A.D.?
What are you waiting for,
A certain shade of green?
I think I grew a gray watching you procrastinate.
What are you waiting for,
A certain shade of green?
Would a written invitation
signed, "Choose now or lose it all,"
sedate your hesitation?
Or inflame and make you stall?
You've been raised in limitation,
but that glove never fit quite right.
The time has passed for hand-me-downs,
choose anew, please evolve,
take flight
What are you waiting for?
A written invitation?
A public declaration?
A private consolation?
This is a song by my favorite band, Incubus. Most of their songs have poetic elements in them, but I chose this one because it seems to have the most. It is completely littered with metaphors and figurative language, all addressing a problem that many people face. The lead singer acts as the narrator in this piece and he seems to be asking why people wait around for things to happen to them instead of taking charge of their life and controlling it themselves. "Are you gonna stand around until 2012 A.D.?" is refering to the speculated end of the world theory predicted by the Mayan calendar. This line is therefore asking people who are guilty of submissiveness if they are going to wait around until the end of the world to finally act on their beliefs.
23. The Changing Light by Lawrence Ferlinghetti
The changing light
at San Francisco
is none of your East Coast light
none of your
pearly light of Paris
The light of San Francisco
is a sea light
an island light
And the light of fog
blanketing the hills
drifting in at night
through the Golden Gate
to lie on the city at dawn
And then the halcyon late mornings
after the fog burns off
and the sun paints white houses
with the sea light of Greece
with sharp clean shadows
making the town look like
it had just been painted
But the wind comes up at four o'clock
sweeping the hills
And then the veil of light of early evening
And then another scrim
when the new night fog
floats in
And in that vale of light
the city drifts
anchorless upon the ocean24. Jabberwocky by Lewis Carroll
'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe. "Beware the Jabberwock, my son The jaws that bite, the claws that catch! Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun The frumious Bandersnatch!" He took his vorpal sword in hand; Long time the manxome foe he sought— So rested he by the Tumtum tree, And stood awhile in thought. And, as in uffish thought he stood, The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame, Came whiffling through the tulgey wood, And burbled as it came! One, two! One, two! And through and through The vorpal blade went snicker-snack! He left it dead, and with its head He went galumphing back. "And hast thou slain the Jabberwock? Come to my arms, my beamish boy! O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!" He chortled in his joy. 'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe.
25. Perfect Woman by William Wordsworth
She was a phantom of delight When first she gleam'd upon my sight; A lovely apparition, sent To be a moment's ornament; Her eyes as stars of twilight fair; Like twilight's, too, her dusky hair; But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful dawn; A dancing shape, an image gay, To haunt, to startle, and waylay. I saw her upon nearer view, A Spirit, yet a Woman too! Her household motions light and free, And steps of virgin liberty; A countenance in which did meet Sweet records, promises as sweet; A creature not too bright or good For human nature's daily food; For transient sorrows, simple wiles, Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles. And now I see with eye serene The very pulse of the machine; A being breathing thoughtful breath, A traveller between life and death; The reason firm, the temperate will, Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill; A perfect Woman, nobly plann’d, To warn, to comfort, and command; And yet a Spirit still, and bright With something of angelic light.
