On Interesting English Poetry (1)
next door
Joan Salinger Sidney
Oaks grow along the road,
Be weighed down by yesterday's snow.
Floca walked alone,
The hood of her fur coat.
Snow sets off the trees.
I pulled over. How is he? But before
I can answer that I saw them last.
Summer: Frauca and her father.
Rely on my mother and want to believe.
Her will can make him recover.
Sitting on the lawn,
Pretend to read, I can't.
Tell them that my legs can't walk.
Leave me alone. Go on.
I've been protecting them for eleven years—
Holocaust survivors-no names
My illness. Hope they die.
Before they saw me in a wheelchair.
Fu Laoka whispered, my brother.
Died a day before your father.
Tears in her eyes, her slim.
The body trembled in the wind.
For a moment, we were closer.
Sad than ever.
On Interesting English Poetry Part II
the next day
Author RandallJarrell
From cheers to joy, from joy to everyone,
I took a box.
Add it to my wild rice, my Cornish game chicken.
Loose or shortened, sun-dried, the same
Sheep gathering food
It's my neglected self. William james said that wisdom,
Learn what to ignore. I am very smart
If that's wisdom.
But somehow, when I buy everything from these shelves,
The boy took it to my station wagon,
What have I been doing?
Even if I close my eyes, it will bother me.
When I was young, miserable and beautiful
I hope it's poor
The wish of all girls: to have a husband,
House and children. Now that I am old, my wish
Is feminine:
The boy who put groceries in my car.
See me. He didn't see me, which puzzled me.
After so many years.
I am good enough to eat: the whole world is watching me.
It's drooling How many times have they taken off my clothes,
Stranger's eyes!
Put their meat in my meat, they are despicable.
My imaginary imagination,
I also accepted it.
The chance of life. Now the boy patted my dog.
We started to go home. I'm fine now.
The last mistake,
Ecstasy, unexpected happiness, blindness
Happiness, burst, stay in the palm of your hand.
Some soap and water—
That was a long time ago, in some gay people.
Twenty, ninety, I don't know. . . I missed it today.
My lovely daughter
At school, my son is at school,
My husband has gone out to work-I pray for them.
Dogs, maids,
I have lived a certain life.
In their home. When I look at my life,
general idea
It's just that it will change because I'm changing:
I was afraid of my face this morning.
It looked at me.
In the rearview mirror, with my annoying eyes,
I hate files. Its simple and well-defined appearance.
Grey discovery
Repeat to me: "You are old." That's all. I'm getting old.
However, I was afraid because I was at the funeral.
I went yesterday.
My friend's cold makeup face, granite in flowers,
Her naked, operated, clothed body.
It is my face and body.
When I think of her, I hear her tell me.
How young I look; I am an exception;
I think of everything I have.
But no one is an exception,
Nobody owns anything, I am anyone,
I'm standing by my grave.
Confused about my life, it's a place and loneliness.
Interesting English Poetry Part III
nigger
Martin Espada
Niggerlips was my high school name.
Douglas called it that.
The car mechanic with the green tattoo.
On each forearm,
And a choir with a pink round face.
Grind happily
From the back of the classroom,
Be nagged by the teacher
The roll call is too slow.
Douglas can brag.
About cruising his car
A sidewalk near black children.
Aim at an unloaded gun,
Scare niggers
Like a crow in a tree,
He would say.
My great-grandfather Louis.
And not black,
Shoemaker in Coffee Mountain
Puerto Rico, 1900.
His family called him a secret.
And I didn't save the photos.
My father remembers.
Childhood white powder
Fail to bleach
His stubborn bronze skin,
The family said
He is still a fly in milk.
So nigger Lips has a mouth.
His great-grandfather,
The songs he must have sung.
When he beat leather and nails,
Heat transferred through copper,
The stubbornness of flies in milk,
What you have, Douglas,
It's the unloaded gun.
Part IV on Interesting English Poetry
A petition was sent to the treasury.
Gabriel Gooding
Because of train accidents, ice hockey attacks, malicious beatings,
The pole vaulter broke his pole during the ascent.
Because of his asphalt face, his screaming with a hat,
God bless dad in the stands.
For dogs that live in the middle,
Hit by a car, curled up and shivering,
Eyes as big as a plate, I can't see anything, but watch, watch.
For the blessed dove who jumped off the cliff.
Pulling off his feathers is just to taste the death of failure.
For poisoning, burns, poison gas, bayonets,
An old smooth who suffered from asthma before the first date in years.
Years have swallowed his own glass eyes.
For all these drunks,
Imagine throwing a handful of coins at sunset,
Fly into the ginkgo forest, at the highest point there,
When the whole bell pauses, pink lights up,
Prepare to sow the land with small money with an hour's salary.
As a shining, loud, short and cheap prayer, it should be
Imagine all this falling into a dark machine full of nurses,
They growled with juice and gauze,
Peaches and brushes, repair such dents and wounds.