Told
by Philip Levine
The air lay soffly on the green fur
of the almond, it was April
and I said, I begin again
but my hands burned in the damp earth
the light ran between my fingers
a black light like no other
this was not home, the linnet
settling on the oleander
the green pod swelling
the leaf slowly untwisting
the slashed egg fallen from the nest
the tongue of grass tasting
I was being told by a pulse slowing
in the eyes
the dove mourning in shadow
a nerve waking in the groin
the distant hills
turning their white heads away
told by the clouds assembling
in the trees, told by the blooming
of a black mouth beneath the rose
the worm sobbing, the dust
settling on my eyelid, told
by salt, by water, told and told.
End of the poem
15 random poems
- lord_god_have_mercy_on_me.html
- I Sing the Body Electric. by Walt Whitman
- Альфред де Мюссе – Майская ночь
- Philomela by Sir Philip Sidney
- Владимир Британишский – Автопортрет Давида
- Yarrow Visited by William Wordsworth
- Федор Сологуб – Под сению креста рыдающая мать
- My Miracle Valentine by Tirtha Raj Baral (Sanu Punatare)
- Song to the Evening Star by Thomas Campbell
- Today by Satish Verma
- Don’t Hang Up The Phone by Miraj Patel
- Electra On Azalea Path by Sylvia Plath
- Sonnet. The Human Seasons poem – John Keats poems
- Complete Destruction by William Carlos Williams
- A daily prayer by a kid by Sunil Sharma
Some external links:
Duckduckgo.com – the alternative in the US
Quant.com – a search engine from France, and also an alternative, at least for Europe
Yandex – the Russian search engine (it’s probably the best search engine for image searches).
Philip Levine ( 1928 – 2015) was an American poet best known for his poems about working-class Detroit. He taught for more than thirty years in the English department of California State University, Fresno and held teaching positions at other universities as well. He served on the Board of Chancellors of the Academy of American Poets from 2000 to 2006, and was appointed Poet Laureate of the United States for 2011–2012