Tags » American Poets

Just Once by Anne Sexton

Just Once

Just once I knew what life was for.
In Boston, quite suddenly, I understood;
walked there along the Charles River,
watched the lights copying themselves, 80 more words

Tributes

poet's corner: a dream lies dead by Dorothy Parker (american writer,poet,critic 1893-1967)

A dream lies dead here. May you softly go

Before this place, and turn away your eyes,

Nor seek to know the look of that which dies… 86 more words

poet's corner: dream deferred by Langston Hughes (american poet,novelist,social activist 1902-1967)

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up

Like a raisin in the sun?

Or fester like a sore–

And then run?

Does it stink like rotten meat? 21 more words

poet's corner: a song of desire by Frederic Lawrence Knowles (american author,poet 1869-1905)

Thou dreamer with the million moods,

Of restless heart like me,

Lay thy white hands against my breast

And cool its pain, O Sea!

O wanderer of the unseen paths, 96 more words

Summer Silence (by E.E. Cummings)

Summer Silence (Spenserian Stanza)
by E.E. Cummings
first published in The Harvard Advocate, 7 March 1913

Eruptive lightnings flutter to and fro
Above the heights of immemorial hills; 48 more words

American

cricketmuse reblogged this on cricketmuse and commented:

Summer Silence by e.e. cummings Eruptive lightnings flutter to and fro Above the heights of immemorial hills; Thirst-stricken air, dumb-throated, in its woe Limply down-sagging, its limp body spills Upon the earth. A panting silence fills The empty vault of Night with shimmering bars Of sullen silver, where the lake distils Its misered bounty.—Hark! No whisper mars The utter silence of the untranslated stars
file0001885948497 I do relish a summer storm. The darkened, rumbly clouds. The sudden whoosh of wind with purpose bestirring the trees. The muggy air that heightens until there is either the release of rain, thunder, complemented with staccato flashes of lighting. Yup--e.e. cummings got it spot on.

Planting a Sequoia by Dana Gioia

 

My family spent a week in California, camping in a vintage Volkswagen. On two nights we searched past dark for a campground. We walked under the giant trees in the national parks, drove into Yosemite Valley on a bright morning, and stood at Glacier Point at sunset. 276 more words

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