POEMS & THE POETS

All my customers and readers,

I’m not a writer or a poet although I ever wanted to be when at college!  The time quickly passing never waits for anyone! I have no time to read much more , especially novels and poets.

Now whenever I read a novel or a poet, I really admire and love  its author a lot. That’s why I  want to share this site with everyone. 

I hope everyone would enjoy all the poems I share here.


The Summer Day

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean—
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down—
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

                                        By Mary Oliver

Copyright @ 1990 by Mary Oliver. First published in House of Light, Beacon Press. Reprinted in The Truro Bear and Other Adventures: Poems and Essays, Beacon Press.

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See more aout Mary Oliver and her books Poems & The Poets: The Summer Day, by Mary Oliver


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The Ground’s Lament

The ground frozen,
giving winter it’s shoulder
not impressed with the cold
or its icy sword and brass
knuckles. It’s nothing the
ground hasn’t seen before.

Soon enough a warm rain
will come, and winter will
have no choice but to retreat.
Let the rain come and cover up
yards, tree trunks
Let the rivers overthrow bridges
We’ll make boats out of
billboards and give everyone
a ride.

The ground shrugs winter or
rain. It knows, when it all ends,
there’ll be nothing left but dust
No place to gather oxygen.
Soon enough there will be
nowhere to rest.

Tosha Michelle 

tosha-michelle

See more abour Tosha Michelle  The Ground’s lament, By Tosha Michelle


there-are-you-mom

There are you Mom

There are you Mom
In the cold of my night
There are you mom
In the heat of my day
There are you mom
Inside of my heart

You always cry with me
Then you wipe my tears
You always laugh with me
Then you knocked me

There are you mom, at every step of my feet
There are you mom at every my pray
There are you mom, at the end of my heart
There are you mom, in every my tears
There are you mom, in every my happiness

Because I cannot live without you

                            By Alexil872

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See more the author Poems & The Poets: There are you Mom, by Alexil872


LOREN KLEINMAN

loren-kleinman-02

Loren Kleinman’s poetry appeared in The New York Times, Drunken Boat, The Moth, Domestic Cherry, Blue Lake Review, Columbia Journal (Columbia University), Stony Thursday Anthology (Arts Council Ireland) LEVURE LITTÉRAIRE, Red Sky, Nimrod, Wilderness House Literary Review, Narrative Northeast, Writer’s Bloc (Texas A&M University-Kingsville), Journal of New Jersey Poets, Paterson Literary Review (The Poetry Center), Resurgence (UK), HerCircleEzine and Aesthetica Annual. She was the recipient of the Spire Press Poetry Prize (2003), was a 2000, 2003, and 2015 Pushcart Prize nominee, and was a 2004 Nimrod/Pablo Neruda Prize finalist for poetry.

More about her and listen to her poems Poems & The Poets: Loren Kleinman

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