If one rainy night you find yourself
leaving a phone booth, and you meet a man
with a lavender umbrella, resist
your desire to follow him, to seek
shelter from the night in his solace.
Later, don’t fall victim to the Hypnotist’s
narcotic of clarity, which proves
a curare for the heart; her salve
is merely a bandage, under which memories
pulse. Resist the taste for something still
alive for your first meal; resist the craving
for the touch of a hand from your past.
We live some memories,
and some memories are planted. There’s
only so much space for the truth
and the fabrications to spread out
in one’s mind. When there’s no more
space, we grow desperate. You’ll ask
if practicing love for years in your mind,
prepares you for the moment,
if practicing to defend one’s life
is the same as living? You’ll
hole up, captive, in a hotel room
for fifteen years and learn to find
a man within you, which will prove
a painful introduction to the trance
into which you were born. Better
to stay under the spell of your guilt,
than to forget; you’ve already released
your pain onto the world; don’t believe
there’s some joy in forgetting.
There’s no joy in the struggle to forget.
And what appears as an endless verdant field,
only spreads across a building’s rooftop;
your peaceful sleep could be a fetal position,
which secures you in a suitcase in this field.
A bell rings, and you fall out of this luggage
like clothes you no longer fit. Now what to do?
You remember when you were the man
who fit those clothes, but you’ve forgotten this
world. Even forgotten scenes from your life,
leave shadows of the memory,
haunting your spirit
until, within a moment’s glance,
strangers passing you on the street,
observe history in your eyes. Experience
lingers through acts of forgetting,
small acts of love or trauma
falling from the same place. Whether
memory comes in the form of a stone
or a grain of sand, they both sink in water.
A tongue—even if it were, say, sworn
to secrecy; or if it were cut from one’s mouth;
yes, even without a mouth to envelop
its truth—the tongue continues to confess.
A few random poems:
- Robert Burns: Ode For General Washington’s Birthday :
- Алексей Жемчужников – Так прочен в сердце и в мозгу
- Sonnet IV. How Many Bards Gild The Lapses Of Time! poem – John Keats poems
- Mr. William Smellie: A Sketch by Robert Burns
- Hymn To Death poem – Alfred Austin
- Огюст Барбье – Леонардо да Винчи
- Sonnet II: Not At First Sight by Sir Philip Sidney
- The Convert
- Happy Teacher’s Day by Vinaya Kumar Hanumanthappa
- a deceving reflection by vanessa anderson
- Epilogue by Vachel Lindsay
- Olney Hymn 67: Longing To Be With Christ by William Cowper
- Balin and Balan poem – Lord Alfred Tennyson poems
- Владимир Маяковский – Слово “Товарищ” говоришь ты?! (РОСТА №449)
- Auntie’s Skirts by Robert Louis Stevenson
External links
Bat’s Poetry Page – more poetry by Fledermaus
Talking Writing Monster’s Page –
Batty Writing – the bat’s idle chatter, thoughts, ideas and observations, all original, all fresh
Poems in English
- To an Early Daffodil poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- To a Friend poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- Thompson’s Lunch Room – Grand Central Station poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- The Way poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- The Trout poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- The Tree of Scarlet Berries poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- The Temple poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- The Taxi poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- The Shadow poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- The Road to Avignon poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- The Red Lacquer Music-Stand poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- The Promise of the Morning Star poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- The Precinct. Rochester poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- The Pleiades poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- The Pike poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- The Paper Windmill poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- The Fruit Garden Path poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- The Forsaken poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- The Foreigner poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- The Fool Errant poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
More external links (open in a new tab):
Doska or the Board – write anything
Search engines:
Yandex – the best search engine for searches in Russian (and the best overall image search engine, in any language, anywhere)
Qwant – the best search engine for searches in French, German as well as Romance and Germanic languages.
Ecosia – a search engine that supposedly… plants trees
Duckduckgo – the real alternative and a search engine that actually works. Without much censorship or partisan politics.
Yahoo– yes, it’s still around, amazingly, miraculously, incredibly, but now it seems to be powered by Bing.
Parallel Translations of Poetry
The Poetry Repository – an online library of poems, poetry, verse and poetic works
A. Van Jordan, born 1965 in Akron, Ohio, USA, is a contemporary American poet and the author of four important collections: Rise, which won the PEN/Oakland Josephine Miles Award (Tia Chucha Press, 2001); M-A-C-N-O-L-I-A, (2005), which was listed as one the Best Books of 2005 by the London Times; Quantum Lyrics, (W.W. Norton, 2007); and The Cineaste (W.W. Norton,, 2013). Jordan has been awarded a Whiting Writers Award, an Anisfield-Wolf Book Award, and a Pushcart Prize.