The Academy of American Poets is a nonprofit organization with a mission to support American poets at all stages of their careers and to foster the appreciation of contemporary poetry. Our membership is nearly 9,000 strong and growing, and our programs reach over 20 million people every year. Our programs include Poets.org, the Poets Forum, Poem in Your Pocket Day, National Poetry Month, American Poet magazine, the Poem-a-Day email series, the Poetry Audio Archive, educational initiatives, readings and events, awards and prizes, and so much more. We've been doing this since 1934.
Maybe you haven't found the poet or poem for you yet? I hope you do someday. If not, then i hope you find joy in many other parts jewels that life has to offer.
A mother's Love there's no greater Joy airplane. I was selfish you see only thinking about my pain. If I can lay in her lap again. The heartbreak. I listen to trees I talked to birds. The King of random piece. But if I could feel her loving touch I wouldn't have to do that so much. What does pain go away. For I need her in my arms to stay. seagrave got me wrapped around his finger. From Love. And trauma had me delusional in the grave. But I realized what was happening to me.. it seems I can't stop.. you see I looked for love underage branch. I felt love again in a single glance. Put all my childhood trauma and pain add my heartbreak of love Kane Brown again. Will I still feel the pain of it all. I'll try to keep my sorrow locked away imperial deep in shades of grey. Vote for the future I have a few. Will my ending be brand new. I went a little insane so I have to check the timer on my brain. You see I want to prosper and grow as a woman. But I'm in a child of State. Can anyone relate.
This poem brought tears to my old tired careworn eyes and brought back not only the memory of what soft ripe sweet juicy peaches once tasted like, but how sweet, joyful, succulent and juicy life was once...
Great poem that captures a California supermarket where the light is a little too bright. Also captures the loneliness of the poet, who imagines Walt Whitman nearby, although Ginsberg deals with that in a surprisingly funny way.
If he w(as/ere) still alive he could tabulate the amount of kweer bait east of East River and the complete selection of massage and muscle relaxers across the universe!
Thank you for sharing this beautiful work. I had not heard of Joy Harjo before, though I've had a love of poetry for many years. I found Joy's poem really powerful and am now off to find more work by her. ❤
0:34 " In the steamer, is the trout seasoned with slivers of ginger, two sprigs of green onion, and sesame oil. We shall eat it with rice for lunch, brothers, sister, my mother who will taste the sweetest meat of the head, holding it between her fingers deftly, the way my father did weeks ago. Then he lay down to sleep like a snow-covered road winding through pines older than him, without any travelers, and lonely for no one.
0:35 1. In the night, in the wind, at the edge of the rain, I find five irises, and call them lovely. As if a woman, once, lay by them awhile, then woke, rose, went, the memory of hair lingers on their sweet tongues. I’d like to tear these petals with my teeth. I’d like to investigate these hairy selves, their beauty and indifference. They hold their breath all their lives and open, open. 2. We are not lovers, not brother and sister, though we drift hand in hand through a hall thrilling and burning as thought and desire expire, and, over this dream of life, this life of sleep, we waken dying- violet becoming blue, growing black, black-all that an iris ever prays, when it prays, to be.
