Tag: poetry

by John M. Ford

The worm drives helically through the wood
And does not know the dust left in the bore
Once made the table integral and good;
And suddenly the crystal hits the floor.
Electrons find their paths in subtle ways,
A massless eddy in a trail of smoke;
The names of lovers, light of other days —
Perhaps you will not miss them. That’s the joke.
The universe winds down. That’s how it’s made.
But memory is everything to lose;
Although some of the colors have to fade,
Do not believe you’ll get the chance to choose.
Regret, by definition, comes too late;
Say what you mean. Bear witness. Iterate.

by Jose Luis Peixoto

a la hora de poner la mesa éramos cinco:
mi padre, mi madre, mis hermanas
y yo. después, mi hermana mayor
se casó. después, mi hermana menor
se casó. después, mi padre murió. hoy
a la hora de poner la mesa, somos cinco,
menos mi hermana mayor que está
en su casa, menos mi hermana menor
que está en su casa, menos mi madre viuda. cada uno
de ellos es un lugar vacío en esta mesa donde
como solo. pero estarán siempre aquí.
a la hora de poner la mesa, seremos siempre cinco.
mientras uno de nosotros esté vivo, seremos
siempre cinco.

by Gwendolyn Brooks

Exhaust the little moment.
Soon it dies.
And be it gash or gold
It will not come
Again in this identical
Disguise.

by e. e. cummings

maggie and milly and molly and may
went down to the beach (to play one day)

and maggie discovered a shell that sang
so sweetly she couldn’t remember her troubles, and

milly befriended a stranded star
whose rays five languid fingers were;

and molly was chased by a horrible thing
which raced sideways while blowing bubbles; and

may came home with a smooth round stone
as small as a world and as large as alone.

For whatever we lose (like a you or a me)
it’s always ourselves we find in the sea