All Poems

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At the Gym

© Mark Doty

This salt-stain spot
marks the place where men
lay down their heads,
back to the bench,

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The Christian Slave

© John Greenleaf Whittier

A CHRISTIAN! going, gone!
Who bids for God's own image? for his grace,
Which that poor victim of the market-place
Hath in her suffering won?

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1. Faith

© Mark Doty

"I've been having these
awful dreams, each a little different,
though the core's the same-

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Grenley Water

© William Barnes

The sheädeless darkness o' the night

  Can never blind my mem'ry's zight;

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The Embrace

© Mark Doty

You weren't well or really ill yet either;
just a little tired, your handsomeness
tinged by grief or anticipation, which brought
to your face a thoughtful, deepening grace.

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A Sonnet

© Francis Beaumont

Flattering Hope, away and leave me,
She'll not come, thou dost deceive me;
Hark the cock crows, th' envious light
Chides away the silent night;
Yet she comes not, oh ! how I tire
Betwixt cold fear and hot desire.

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A Display Of Mackeral

© Mark Doty

They lie in parallel rows,
on ice, head to tail,
each a foot of luminosity
barred with black bands,
which divide the scales'
radiant sections

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To Jane: The Invitation

© Percy Bysshe Shelley

Best and brightest, come away!
Fairer far than this fair Day,
Which, like thee to those in sorrow,
Comes to bid a sweet good-morrow

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The Vagaries of Fishes

© Judith Skillman

After they passed beneath us I could tell
more would be coming, beneath the sand,
under the bejeweled sky, under the first
layer of earth where water exists

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Nightfall

© Robert Fuller Murray

Let me sleep.  The day is past,
And the folded shadows keep
Weary mortals safe and fast.
Let me sleep.

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Tic Douloureux

© Judith Skillman

The trigger is sensation.

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My Love, Oh, She Is My Love

© Douglas Hyde

SHE casts a spell, oh, casts a spell! 

Which haunts me more than I can tell. 

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Bourne

© Judith Skillman

When the Cherry
rustles above her head
she hardly realizes
why she leaves
her clothes on the rocks,

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The Raft

© Vachel Lindsay

A banjo and a hymn are heard afar.
No solace on the lazy shore excels
The Duke's blue castle with its steamer-bells.
The floor is running water, and the roof
The stars' brocade with cloudy warp and woof.

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Field Thistle

© Judith Skillman

A raucous noise,
the dawn of great beauty
and he with his tripod
matting the grasses as he walked.

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Distress Coils

© Judith Skillman

Poem by Anne-Marie Derése, translated by Judith Skillman.The waiting volcano inside us
gnaws, digs, trembles,
weighs its chances.
Distress coils up,

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The Spring

© William Barnes

When wintry weather's all a-done,
An' brooks do sparkle in the zun,
An' naisy-builden rooks do vlee
Wi' sticks toward their elem tree;

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La dètresse s'enroule

© Judith Skillman

Poem by Anne-Marie Derése.Le volcan en attente au fond de nous
ronge, creuse, tremble,
soupése ses chances.
La dètresse s'enroule,

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The North And The South

© Elizabeth Barrett Browning

I  
"Now give us lands where the olives grow,"
Cried the North to the South,
"Where the sun with a golden mouth can blow
Blow bubbles of grapes down a vineyard-row!"
Cried the North to the South.  

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You've given me a weapon

© Judith Skillman

Poem by Anne-Marie Derése, translated by Judith Skillman.You've given me a weapon.
you've flung your words
into the human herd
like stones.