by Michel Deguy At sunrise I arose To the sound the machine animals make passing by in the streets over heads Was it briefly interminable or intermina...
by Edgar Lee Masters In youth my wings were strong and tireless， But I did not know the mountains. In age I knew the mountains But my weary wings coul...
by Elizabeth Bishop Although it is a cold evening， down by one of the fishhouses an old man sits netting， his net， in the gloaming almost invisible， a...
by Darcy Cummings One summer afternoon， I learned my body like a blind child leaving a walled school for the first time， stumbling from cool hallways ...
by Harryette Mullen Forgive me， I'm no good at this. I can't write back. I never read your letter. I can't say I got your note. I haven...
by Mark Doty This salt-stain spot marks the place where men lay down their heads， back to the bench， and hoist nothing that need be lifted but some bu...
by William Shakespeare All the world's a stage， And all the men and women merely players； They have their exits and their entrances， And one man i...
by Maya Angelou Lying， thinking Last night How to find my soul a home Where water is not thirsty And bread loaf is not stone I came up with one thing ...
by Pierre Joris If the light is the soul then soul is what's all around me. It is you， it is around you too， it is you. The darkness is inside me，...
by Ruth Stone Writing poems about writing poems is like rolling bales of hay in Texas. Nothing but the horizon to stop you. But consider the railroad&...