Island Life I live on an island. But that’s not the worst part. Water sloshes uncontrollably at the edges of this entire geological formation. You can hardly go anyplace without falling off. Julie O’Callaghan briefpoems.wordpress.com/2021/02/04/w...

White Sound – Brief poems by Julie O’Callaghan

Julie O’Callaghan was born in 1954 in Chicago. Her great-grandparents had emigrated there from Ballyjamesduff in County Cavan. She was the second of seven children. Her father, Jack, whom she has w…

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Laughter Not sure what counts more for me or for her, the surge of pleasure at making the other laugh, the sudden sun coming out, or warming to oneself for one’s wit, that shaft of it bisecting the clouds. Michael Laskey

Rhina Espaillat, for your labor day weekend

U-District Incident Report Apparently they want your body parts. They frisk you for Your handset, earbud, bluetooth, cellphone, iPad, thumb drive, memory stick And laptop.    You won’t need any of it soon.    Give them The finger too. Heather McHugh

On a Singing Girl Musa of the sea-blue eyes, Silver nightingale, alone In a little coffin lies: A stone beneath a stone. She, whose song we loved the best, Is voiceless in a sudden night: On your light limbs, O loveliest, May the dust be light. Elinor Wylie

Endings The story has two endings. It has one ending and then another. Do you hear me? I do not have the heart to edit the other out. Sandra Lim

So weird and wonderful

Daily Poem no. 1 You say you love birds But only if heard No sooner than 12pm Come morning I’ll sit With magpies and tits And echo “carpe diem” Nancy Eimers

Fake Pockets Like doll don’t work except in pretend; you can’t actually get
 a word out or a spoon in. Kay Ryan Image courtesy @phillipcrymble.bsky.social‬

Wendell Berry

Breaking Did I believe I had a clear mind? It was like the water of a river flowing shallow over the ice. And now
 that the rising water has broken
the ice, I see that what I thought was the light is part of the dark. Wendell Berry RIP

Jamesian Their relationship consisted In discussing if it existed. Thom Gunn

Scarf Whoever claims beauty lies in the eye of the beholder has forgotten the music silk makes settling across a bared neck: skin never touched so gently except by a child or a lover. Rita Dove Image courtesy of @mayacpopa.bsky.social

Return I will come to you again on autumn nights, as the clouds fly, as the leaves blow down. I shall speak to you again, if you will listen — as the winds cry as the years go down. Joseph Payne Brennan Image courtesy @tomsnarsky.bsky.social

The Conductor one flick of the wrist and he conjures a solipsism so orchestral it sounds like empathy. Watch him. He thinks the universe resolves around him. Jessica Traynor

Revenge of the Ex-Mistress Dear X— Finally met your wife in Beef & Beer. She hates it that you let me pierce your ear, and time you lost to me she guessed. Still, we fell in love. Please send her clothes to my address. Best wishes, no regrets. —Another X Mary Karr

Fuck the Banks you can’t even storm out they have to buzz you out Matthew Rohrer

Somebody Else If I was not myself, I would be somebody else. But actually I am somebody else. I have been somebody else all my life. It’s no laughing matter going about the place all the time being somebody else: people mistake you; you mistake yourself. Jackie Kay

Business Plan Open a shop on the beach and name it the phonetic translation in English of the sound waves make when they crash on the shore so you get free advertising all day and night until the end of time. Mark Leidner

Winter Love I would like to decorate this silence, but my house grows only cleaner and more plain. The glass chimes I hung over the register ring a little when the heat goes on. I waited too long to drink my tea. It was not hot. It was only warm. Linda Gregg

Weldon Kees

poemakontsa@poemakontsa.bsky.social · 2w ago

Trying to pray with poet Weldon Kees Small Prayer Change, move, dead clock

Happy birthday Dorothy Parker. Some brief poems here:- briefpoems.wordpress.com/2017/03/27/r...

Razors – Brief Poems by Dorothy Parker

Dorothy Parker (1893 – 1967) was an American poet, short story writer, critic, and satirist, best known for her wit and her wisecracks, a reputation she deplored. On August 22, 1893, she was born t…

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The Moth Magazine@themothmagazine.bsky.social · 2w ago

❛ I'd like to have money. And I'd like to be a good writer. These two can come together, and I hope they will, but if that's too adorable, I'd rather have money. Dorothy Parker, born #OTD in 1893.

The Way We Go the way we go about our lives trying out each empty room like houses we might own eavesdropping for clues in corridors until standing at a gate or attic window seeing beauty in a flag of sky we're gone, leaving the doors open all the lights burning Katherine Towers

So Large Big world when I was very young. The shopping aisles a mile long … Our lawn, though anything but wide, Unfolding like the countryside … The sky! So large and far away … Exactly as it is today. Daniel Brown

Window Sometimes it seems just a push would get you over the rooftops and out into air it feels has nothing but space to give you. This riding high was made for serious people who want to live but can't. Just a push and you're up there, out, and free as the birds. Robert Creeley

Wrath Lying in the darkness, grim with anger against the one lying by your side, herself grim with anger at your lying so grim with anger by her side. This night only absence will be her lover, only wrath will be your bride. John Montague Image courtesy @phillipcrymble.bsky.social‬

All You Who Sleep Tonight All you who sleep tonight Far from the ones you love, No hands to left or right, And emptiness above – Know that you aren’t alone. The whole world shares your tears, Some for two nights or one, And some for all their years. Vikram Seth

On Giving Birth That night I was full of information. Kathleen Ossip

Poetry An old art spreading rumours about Paradise, it begs outside the gates Of the gods: the active gods come out. Peter Porter

Could mortal lip divine The undeveloped Freight Of a delivered syllable ‘Twould crumble with the weight. Emily Dickinson briefpoems.wordpress.com/2016/07/18/a...

A Freight of Feathers – 50 Brief Poems by Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson  (1830 – 1886) was an American poet born in Amherst, Massachusetts. She  spent most of her life, after a conventional education in Amherst, as a highly introverted woman. Considered…

briefpoems.wordpress.com