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Reluctance Out through the fields and the woods And over the walls I have wended; I have climbed the hills of view And looked at the world, and descended; I have come by the highway home, And lo, it is ended. The leaves are all dead on the ground, Save Robert Frost But to look up from the leaves, remember, is a choice also, as if up from the shame of it Carl Phillips b. I am here to slay the dragon in the ready-made Susan Howe b.

You thought this myth arose from poor translation. I can attest to your misapprehension.

Gary Soto | Poetry Foundation

My social studies teacher in grade 8, Ms. Rogers, believed it was customary for the Chinese to walk Weyman Chan b. Newfoundland Sealing Disaster Sent to the ice after white coats, rough outfit slung on coiled rope belts, they stooped to the slaughter: gaffed pups, slit them free of their spotless pelts. The storm Michael Crummey b. Sara Peters b.

Now, speak! Gregory Scofield b. Pale Blue Cover In the middle of the night Matt would fly to Vancouver so he could take a walk on the sea wall the next day, then go home. No one can imagine Matt teaching religion at George Bowering b.

Leanne Betasamosake Simpson b. Follow thy fair sun, unhappy shadow Follow thy fair sun, unhappy shadow, Though thou be black as night And she made all of light, Yet follow thy fair sun unhappy shadow. Thomas Campion The Potato Harvest A high bare field, brown from the plough, and borne Aslant from sunset; amber wastes of sky Washing the ridge; a clamour of crows that fly In from the wide flats where the spent tides mourn To yon their rocking roosts in pines wind-torn; A line of grey snake-fence, that zigzags by Charles G.

Roberts On Shakespeare. Thou in our wonder and astonishment Hast built thyself a live-long monument John Milton The pools low lying, dank with moss and mould, Glint through their mildews like large cups of gold. Among the wild rice in the still lagoon, In monotone the lizard shrills his tune. The wild goose, Pauline Johnson Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove. Anne Carson b. Norman Dubie b. John Keats When I was a little girl At Shubenacadie school. You snatched it away: I speak like you I think like you I create like you The scrambled ballad, about my word.

Two ways I talk Both ways I say, Your way is more powerful. Rita Joe — Should Lanterns Shine Should lanterns shine, the holy face, Caught in an octagon of unaccustomed light, Would wither up, and any boy of love Look twice before he fell from grace. The features in their private dark Are formed of flesh, but let the false day come And from her lips the added pigments fall, The mummy cloths expose an ancient breast.

Dylan Thomas — Richard Harrison From The Titanic: The Iceberg Calved from a glacier near Godhaven coast, It left the fiord for the sea — a host Of white flotillas gathering in its wake, And joined by fragments from a Behring floe Had circumnavigated it to make Pratt Money Coin Exhibit, British Museum. Their misshapenness strikes the table in tiny splashes, like still-cooling splatters of silver. Stater and shekel, mina and obol. Athens an owl, Messana a hare, a jar for Terone, Melos a pomegranate.

Call it museum money, written Carmine Starnino b. A diamond ring. It ate promises and rants. Sue Goyette b. John Clare How One Winter Came in the Lake Region For weeks and weeks the autumn world stood still, Clothed in the shadow of a smoky haze; The fields were dead, the wind had lost its will, And all the lands were hushed by wood and hill, In those grey, withered days. Behind a mist the blear sun rose and set, At night the Wilfred Campbell Walt Whitman Lose something every day. Accept the fluster of Elizabeth Bishop Lawrence Ferlinghetti b.

Poor Speaker I understand you. I get it. You want me to understand. Got it. The Fish wade through black jade. Marianne Moore Old Ironsides Ay, tear her tattered ensign down! Oliver Wendell Holmes Gerard Manley Hopkins Lofty mansions, warm and spacious; Courtiers cringing and voracious; Misers scarce the wretched heeding; Gallant soldiers fighting, bleeding. Wives who Mary Robinson Milton Acorn — The Cremation of Sam McGee There are strange things done in the midnight sun By the men who moil for gold; The Arctic trails have their secret tales That would make your blood run cold; The Northern Lights have seen queer sights, Robert W.

Service Confessions What is he buzzing in my ears? Dulce et Decorum Est Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs, And towards our distant rest began to trudge. Men marched asleep.

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Many had lost their boots, But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind; Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots Wilfred Owen Edgar Allan Poe Spencer Reece b. The liturgy begins to echo itself and why does it matter? If the ground-water is too scarce one can stretch nets into the air and harvest the fog. Kazim Ali b. En Route The train has stopped for no apparent reason In the wilds; A frozen lake is level and fretted over With rippled wind lines; The sun is burning in the South; the season Is winter trembling at a touch of spring.

A little hill with birches and a ring Of cedars — all so still, so pure with snow — It seems a tiny landscape in Duncan Campbell Scott Matthew Rohrer b. We posed with our wide grins and best-friends-forever certainty. Souvankham Thammavongsa b. I knew the language Dorothy Parker Alootook Ipellie — From Correspondences Sometimes we are led through the doorway by a child, sometimes by a stranger, always a matter of grace changing the past, for if there is anything we must change it is the past.

To look back and see another map. Anne Michaels. Wilt thou forgive that sin, through which I run, And do run still, though still I do deplore? When thou hast done, thou hast not done, For I have more. Wilt thou John Donne A Boat Beneath a Sunny Sky A boat, beneath a sunny sky, Lingering onward dreamily In an evening of July — Children three that nestle near, Eager eye and willing ear, Pleased a simple tale to hear — Long has paled that sunny sky: Echoes fade and memories die: Autumn frosts have slain July. Lewis Carroll Liz Howard b.

El Jones. You came by on bamboo stilts, playing horse, You walked about my seat, playing with blue plums. Song: To Celia Come, my Celia, let us prove, While we can, the sports of love; Time will not be ours forever; He at length our good will sever. Spend not then his gifts in vain.

Why should we defer our joys? Fame and rumor are but toys Ben Jonson William Butler Yeats From World of Made and Unmade In my dream my mother comes with me. We are in the meadows we call The Flats, walking the dogs. Walk straight past the water trough, she says, do not engage the moss. Go back to the top of the page, the dream says, and leave out the suicides. In my dream I walk and Jane Mead b. Whether he vainly cursed, or prayed indeed, The Bullets chirped — In vain! Machine-guns chuckled, — Tut-tut!

And the Big Gun guffawed. Now here is your father inside your lungs. Ocean Vuong b. Insomnia If I were to sleep, it would be on an iron bed, bolted to the floor in a bomb-proof concrete room with twelve locks on the door. Kate Hall b. Were we not weaned till then? But sucked on country pleasures, childishly? And now Song for a Silent Treatment. I told her, in plain language, how I felt. It doesn't matter. Allons, feignons David McGimpsey b.

The New Experience I was ready for a new experience. All the old ones had burned out. They lay in little ashy heaps along the roadside And blew in drifts across the fairgrounds and fields. Suzanne Buffam b. Good Day Villanelle You ran naked out the door. The neighbours laughed; I chased you down. I hardly see you anymore.

Did I tell you when you were little how you ran naked out the door? You got halfway down the street before I caught you in my arms. Damian Rogers b. Christian severity etched in the lines he draws from his mouth. Clearly a noble man who believes in work and mission. See how he rises from Armand Garnet Ruffo. What peaches and what penumbras! Whole families shopping at night! Allen Ginsberg Rita Wong b.

But I am done with apple-picking now. Essence of winter sleep is on the night, The scent of apples: I am drowsing off. I cannot Full desertness, In souls as countries, lieth silent-bare Under the blanching, vertical eye-glare Of the absolute heavens. Hotel Centrale, Rotterdam I am awake between stiff sheets tonight in room thirty four, listening to the heat tick through the radiator, seeing a television pour out news of the war the war in the air, the war in the Gulf. The walls vibrate with video light.

This is no room for sleep anymore. There is no room for Daniel David Moses b. Joshua Whitehead b. England in An old, mad, blind, despised, and dying King; Princes, the dregs of their dull race, who flow Through public scorn, — mud from a muddy spring; Rulers who neither see nor feel nor know, But leechlike to their fainting country cling Till they drop, blind in blood, without a blow.

Percy Bysshe Shelley Sherman Alexie b. The Bow river churns and smokes as the city rumbles, economy chokes and bundled homeless build cardboard homes in the snow. Yes, Walt, this is the new world, and how often has your huge, burled form lengthened beside me as we strode through parking lots, the filth and ice of streets? Great seer, I listen for your relentless Rosemary Griebel. Let the Ponies Out oh papa, to have you drift up, some part of you drift up through water through fresh water into the teal plate of sky soaking foothills, papa, to have your breath leave, escape you, escape the weight of bone, muscle and organ, escape you, to rise up, to loft, till you are all breath filling the room, rising, escaping the white Marilyn Dumont b.

These Poems, She Said These poems, these poems, these poems, she said, are poems with no love in them. These are the poems Robert Bringhurst b. Under the Answering Sky I can manage being alone, can pace out convivial hope across my managing ground. Someone might call, later. I would catch, not my echo, but their guarantee that this Denise Riley b. Salmon Courage Here at Woodlands, Moriah, these thirty-five years later, still I could smell her fear.

Then, the huddled hills would not have calmed her, now as they do me. Then, the view did not snatch the panting breath, now, as it does these thirty-five years later, to the day, I relive the journey of my salmon mother. NourbeSe Philip b. Of many was I sought their mistress for to be. But I did scorn them all and answered them therefore: Go, go, go, seek some other where; importune me no more. How many weeping eyes I made to pine in woe, How many sighing hearts I have not skill to show, But I the prouder Queen Elizabeth I In Flanders Fields In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place; and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved and John McCrae One by one, Deep rooted in our souls, there springeth up Dark groves of human passion, rich in gloom, At first no bigger than an acorn-cup. Hope threads the tangled labyrinth, but grieves Till all our sins Charles Sangster Richard Cory Whenever Richard Cory went down town, We people on the pavement looked at him: He was a gentleman from sole to crown, Clean favored, and imperially slim.

And he was always quietly arrayed, And he was always human when he talked; But still he fluttered pulses when he said, The limpness of a bird's legs in flight. The place, the question, the question. The place, the interest, the question. There is the place. There is what you do in the place. There is your belief.

There is the faith in a knowing. There is your instruction by the gods. There is your instruction as you are told. There is your relief We Wear the Mask We wear the mask that grins and lies, It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes, — This debt we pay to human guile; With torn and bleeding hearts we smile, And mouth with myriad subtleties. Why should the world be over-wise, In counting all our tears and sighs? Nay, let them only see us, while Paul Laurence Dunbar Rosanna Deerchild. Wild Nights — Wild Nights! Were I with thee Wild Nights should be Our luxury!

Rowing in Eden — Ah, the Sea! Might I but moor — Tonight — In Thee! Emily Dickinson Solitude Laugh, and the world laughs with you; Weep, and you weep alone; For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth, But has trouble enough of its own. Sing, and the hills will answer; Sigh, it is lost on the air; The echoes bound to a joyful sound, But Ella Wheeler Wilcox Sonnet LV: Not marble, nor the gilded monuments Not marble nor the gilded monuments Of princes shall outlive this powerful rhyme, But you shall shine more bright in these contents Than unswept stone besmeared with sluttish time.

Application Form Please read all the instructions carefully before proceeding. Use only permanent blue or black ink. If you have special needs that require accommodation, please explain. The information you provide should not be limited by the space allowed. If you require more space, append another sheet of paper. In the blanks below please Phoebe Wang. Why, Because the Dazzling Sun Ah! I was at peace, and drank your beams Crossing the Bar Sunset and evening star, And one clear call for me! And may there be no moaning of the bar, When I put out to sea, But such a tide as moving seems asleep, Too full for sound and foam, When that which drew from out the boundless deep Composed upon Westminster Bridge, September 3, Earth has not anything to show more fair: Dull would he be of soul who could pass by A sight so touching in its majesty: This City now doth, like a garment, wear The beauty of the morning; silent, bare, Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie Open unto the fields, and to the sky; All bright and glittering in the smokeless William Wordsworth Brenda Hillman b.

And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me. O, well for the sailor lad, That he sings O wilt thou therefore rise from me? Love, which in spite of darkness brought us hither, Should in despite of light keep us together. Light hath no tongue, but is all eye; If it could speak as well It would be quite impossible to have less sense of Michael Ondaatje b. A Stone Diary At the beginning I noticed the huge stones on my path I knew instinctively why they were there breathing as naturally as animals I moved Pat Lowther When I consider how my light is spent When I consider how my light is spent, Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, And that one Talent which is death to hide Lodged with me useless, though my Soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest he returning chide; Harryette Mullen b.

A Dream Within a Dream Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now, Thus much let me avow — You are not wrong, who deem That my days have been a dream; Yet if hope has flown away In a night, or in a day, In a vision, or in none, Is it therefore the less gone? All that we see or seem Sun Bear yesterday at the Oakland zoo I was walking alone for a moment past the enclosure holding the sun bear also known as beruang madu it looked at me without interest it has powerful jaws and truly loves honey it sleeps in a high hammock its claws look made out of wood and if it dreams at all it is of Malaysia Matthew Zapruder b.

Poetry I too, dislike it: there are things that are important beyond all this fiddle. Billy-Ray Belcourt. Common Magic Your best friend falls in love and her brain turns to water. You stop for lunch in a Bronwen Wallace The Gods and Fortune take their part Who like young monarchs fight; And boldly dare invade that heart John Dryden Joy Harjo b. Invitation to Love Come when the nights are bright with stars Or when the moon is mellow; Come when the sun his golden bars Drops on the hay-field yellow.

You are sweet, O Love, dear Love, Heat From plains that reel to southward, dim, The road runs by me white and bare; Up the steep hill it seems to swim Beyond, and melt into the glare. Upward half-way, or it may be Nearer the summit, slowly steals A hay-cart, moving dustily With idly Say this Was something reported as news On a day when your life came to no good. The new homeless drifting from row houses Along streets tamped down by the heedless And paved in afterthought. Out of hollows James Langer b. Shane Book. And you O my soul where you stand, Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretched in never-ending Cowboy Story The books sit on the shelf, a row of coma patients in a ward, a series of selves no longer able to learn and trapped at the point of injury: the last page.

At the donor clinic I offer my arm to the spigot of the needle and think, as I see the bag fill with blood, there goes some of me.

George Murray b. Through the windows — through doors — burst like a ruthless force, Into the solemn church, and scatter the congregation, Into the school where the scholar is studying; Leave not the bridegroom quiet — no happiness must he have now with his bride, Nor the peaceful farmer any peace, ploughing his field or From me he I Have Not Lingered in European Monasteries I have not lingered in European monasteries and discovered among the tall grasses tombs of knights who fell as beautifully as their ballads tell; I have not parted the grasses or purposefully left them thatched Leonard Cohen Ralph Waldo Emerson Stuart Ross b.

Not Waving But Drowning Nobody heard him, the dead man, But still he lay moaning: I was much further out than you thought And not waving but drowning. Poor chap, he always loved larking Stevie Smith Leigh Hunt Or as Robin teaches the gap, from which all things emerge. A left handed compliment. Bats, houses of parliament, giants, stones. What woman, witness to such Thought, does not feel Sharon Thesen b. There are secret passwords you Joy Kogawa b. Rudyard Kipling Five Postcards from Jericho Dear Regret, my leaning this morning, my leather foot, want of stone, age old, my burnished and bruised, hair lingering, hand caked, spongy as November, my dear Relentless, my dear Aging, Sina Queyras b.

Their numbers as he watched, Beat on the dusty shore and were obscured. Charles Lamb To an Athlete Dying Young The time you won your town the race We chaired you through the market-place; Man and boy stood cheering by, And home we brought you shoulder-high. Today, the road all runners come, Shoulder-high we bring you home, And set you at your threshold down, Townsman of a stiller town.

Smart lad Housman Ted Berrigan The Lake Isle of Innisfree I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made; Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee, And live alone in the bee-loud glade. And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings Nicole Brossard b. Epitaph On her Son H. Youth and Beauty both are dust. Long we gathering are with pain, What one moment calls again.

Seven years childless marriage past, A Son, a son is born at last: So Katherine Philips I wanna live, son. But which son are you? What still Canisia Lubrin b. Paul Muldoon b.

'Cities are built with language': how poetry feeds on urban life

Porphyria's Lover The rain set early in to-night, The sullen wind was soon awake, It tore the elm-tops down for spite, And did its worst to vex the lake: I listened with heart fit to break. When glided in Porphyria: straight She shut the cold out and the storm, And kneeled You are on the highway, there is a kind of laughter, the cars pound south. Over your shoulder the scrub-grass, the fences, the fields wait patiently as though someone believed in them. The light has laid it upon them. Dennis Lee b.

The Second Coming Turning and turning in the widening gyre The falcon cannot hear the falconer; Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere The ceremony of innocence is drowned; The best lack all conviction, while the worst Are full of passionate Robert Burns Tide Would I have seen her?

The tide tugging her gently past the Comfort Inn; houses, tall and gabled, the bridge and its passersby. This is not a hidden place. The graze and drag of her, clumsy, obstructive in the divided caress of eelgrass.

To Create in Context

No search. Eight days. Soraya Peerbaye b. Connie Fife b. The Emperor of Ice-Cream Call the roller of big cigars, The muscular one, and bid him whip In kitchen cups concupiscent curds.

Morning Inspiration - Poetic Christianity

Let be be finale of seem. The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream. Take from the Wallace Stevens O Captain! My Captain! O the bleeding drops of red, Emma Healey b. The Dead How great unto the living seem the dead! How sacred, solemn; how heroic grown; How vast and vague, as they obscurely tread The shadowy confines of the dim unknown!

Charles Heavysege Kamau Brathwaite b. Revenge Ay, gaze upon her rose-wreathed hair, And gaze upon her smile; Seem as you drank the very air Her breath perfumed the while: And wake for her the gifted line, That wild and witching lay, And swear your heart is as a shrine, That only Letitia Elizabeth Landon Hip-Hop Ghazal Gotta love us brown girls, munching on fat, swinging blue hips, decked out in shells and splashes, Lawdie, bringing them woo hips.

As the jukebox teases, watch my sistas throat the heartbreak, inhaling bassline, cracking backbone and singing thru hips. Patricia Smith b. Wioletta Greg b. Fear of Snakes The snake can separate itself from its shadow, move on ribbons of light, taste the air, the morning and the evening, the darkness at the heart of things.

I remember when my fear of snakes left for good, Lorna Crozier b. Dover Beach The sea is calm tonight. The tide is full, the moon lies fair Upon the straits; on the French coast the light Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand, Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay. Come to the window, sweet is the night-air! Only, from the long line of spray Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land, Matthew Arnold On desperate seas long wont to roam, Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face, Thy Naiad airs have We laugh. Everyone is half-naked in I-See-U. Behind a grey curtain, a thump and quiet invoke Code Blue.

We uncover your bottom line, the Left Main of a black-and-white heart, hand-drawn Madhur Anand b. Thomas Hardy Laurentian Shield Hidden in wonder and snow, or sudden with summer, This land stares at the sun in a huge silence Endlessly repeating something we cannot hear. Inarticulate, arctic, Not written on by history, empty as paper, Scott The Tide Rises, the Tide Falls The tide rises, the tide falls, The twilight darkens, the curlew calls; Along the sea-sands damp and brown The traveller hastens toward the town, And the tide rises, the tide falls.

Darkness settles on roofs and walls, But the sea, the sea in the darkness calls; The little waves, with their soft, white Wayde Compton b. Ode on Solitude Happy the man, whose wish and care A few paternal acres bound, Content to breathe his native air, In his own ground. Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, Whose flocks supply him with attire, Whose trees in summer yield him shade, Alexander Pope Annabel Lee It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden there lived whom you may know By the name of Annabel Lee; And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child, Hoa Nguyen b.

Trillium the animal in me is constant. Gwen Benaway These are mine acolytes and these my choir, And this mine altar in the cool green shade, Where the wild soft-eyed does draw nigh Wondering, as in the byre Of Bethlehem the oxen heard Thy cry Marjorie Pickthall Claire Harris b. The Lonely Land Cedar and jagged fir uplift sharp barbs against the gray and cloud-piled sky; and in the bay blown spume and windrift and thin, bitter spray Smith From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be, Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow, And soonest our best men with thee do go, Katherena Vermette b.

Helen All Greece hates the still eyes in the white face, the lustre as of olives where she stands, and the white hands. All Greece reviles But I cannot leave them Adebe D. What horror to awake at night What horror to awake at night and in the dimness see the light.

Lorine Niedecker Thou Poem Thou poem of lost attention and half try, do you fear more the inner world or outer? I do not love the self less than the others, my name is legion and my mouth one cry. Moritz b. The sedge has withered from the lake, And no birds sing. O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms, So haggard and so woe-begone? A Fixed Idea What torture lurks within a single thought When grown too constant, and however kind, However welcome still, the weary mind Aches with its presence.

Dull remembrance taught Remembers on unceasingly; unsought The old delight is with us but to find That all recurring joy is pain refined, Become a habit, and we struggle, caught Amy Lowell Klein Rachel Boast b. The Road Not Taken Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as Are you interested in joining our diverse network of poets and writers?

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