All Poems

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Can I Forget?

© Madison Julius Cawein

Can I forget how LOVE once led the ways

Of our two lives together, joining them;

Tu m'as donnè une arme

© Judith Skillman

Poem by Anne-Marie Derése.Tu m'as donnè une arme
Dans le troupeau humain,
tu as lancè tes mots
commes des pierres.

The Meeting

© Robert Laurence Binyon

Faces of blank decorum, and bald heads
And the drone of a voice saying what none denies;
Words like cobwebs, scarcely stirred by a breath,
Loosely hanging, gray in an unswept corner;

Forgive Me

© Judith Skillman

Poem by Anne-Marie Derése, translated by Judith Skillman.Forgive me if I have laughed
in your chapels,
forgive me if I have slammed
the hospital door,

I'm Out Of The Army Now

© Franklin Pierce Adams

When first I doffed my olive drab,
I thought, delightfully though mutely,
"Henceforth I shall have pleasure ab-
Solutely."

Pardon

© Judith Skillman

Poem by Anne-Marie Derése.Pardon si j'ai ri
dans vos chapelles,
pardon si j'ai claquè
la porte de l'h?pital,

A Critic

© Walter Savage Landor

With much ado you fail to tell
The requisites for writing well;
But, what bad writing is, you quite
Have proved by every line you write.

Night Opens to the Storm

© Judith Skillman

Shimmering like mercury
The Valley of the Seven Muses
breathes mist
through its gray nostrils.

La nuit s'ouvre, l'orage

© Judith Skillman

Miroitante de mercure,
la vallèe des sept Meuses
souffle la brume
par ses narines grises.

Couplet

© Amir Khusro

Oh Khusrau, the river of love
Runs in strange directions.
One who jumps into it drowns,
And one who drowns, gets across.

Face Stolen From a Bird

© Judith Skillman

I don't know who you're hiding
behind your mask,
your face stolen from a bird,
imprisoned by red ashes.
I will love you the way one dies.

The Dead Feast of the Kol-Folk

© John Greenleaf Whittier

We have opened the door,

Once, twice, thrice!

Visage volè l'oiseau

© Judith Skillman

Je ne sais qui tu caches
sous ton visage inventè,
ton visage volè l'oiseau,
emprisonnè de cendre rouge.
Je vais t'aimer comme on meurt.

Ossians Poems

Here I have heard on hills the battle clash

Roar to the windy sea that roared again:

I Am

Poem by Anne-Marie Derése, translated by Judith Skillman.I am the red brand
on the shoulder of the condemned,
the gallows and the rope,
the ax and the block,

Gull In An Aery Morrice

Gulls in an aery morrice
Gleam and vanish and gleam . . .
The full sea, sleepily basking,
Dreams under skies of dream.

Je Suis

Poem by Anne-Marie DeréseJe suis le fer rouge
sur l'èpaule du condamnè,
le gibet et la corde,
la hache et le billot,

TRUST thou thy Love: if she be proud, is she not sweet?
Trust thou thy Love: if she be mute, is she not pure?
Lay thou thy soul full in her hands, low at her feet;
Fail, Sun and Breath!--yet, for thy peace, She shall endure.