Poetry
Poetry
On Christmas Day, we lost one of our great advocates for poetry.
Poem of the Week
I was created in His image I had dominion over every thing
Poem of the Week
I would slip the hook under the sow’s chin, hold my breath, and pull.
Classics
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens her first rose
Poem of the Week
Beached on the kingdom I learned to swim with my eyes closed.
Poem of the Week
Ahab went mad when he saw the sea is just the sea and nothing more.
Poetry
Filarial worms in bloodstream darkness know when it’s night.
Poem of the Week
I know what my promises are worth, know the worth of material things.
Poem of the Week
Their days go over in idleness, and they sigh if the wind but lift a tress.
Poem of the Week
If you are hidden treasure, mine, don’t let me lose what I have gained.
Poem of the Week
Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive, but to be young was very Heaven!
Poem of the Week
I ought to haul out this junk I called winter and lose it somewhere.
Poem of the Week
You go out larking with a neatly mustached man.
N30B Winners
For eight weeks no one heard my voice for eight weeks no one slept.
Poem of the Week
How can you love them and yet how could you live
without them?
without them?
Poem of the Week
This summer I mothered my brother’s death; I brothered my mother’s cancer.
My brother and mother died this summer, two of seven billion.
Poem of the Week
I keep an eye on my shit—this body, this lost cause, this bad joke—
I want to be good at more than just childlessness and tying balloon animals.
Poem of the Week
When I cast my vote, I become just that tiny, abstract, lost, and essential.
Poem of the Week
Poetry isn’t work, he said, unless you’re talking about reading it.
Poetry Contest Winners
Collage what we can, form fractured and repaired, blend of is and isn’t.
Poem of the Week
A plastic Kroger’s bag caught in the chinking—Spelter’s only banner.
Poem of the Week
Rumi advised me to keep my spirit up in the branches of a tree.
iPoems
Oklahoma, a state shaped like a pot, probably some gruel inside.
Poem of the Week
As a girl I was raised to sing along with the rest. To praise. Especially men.
Poem of the Week
I was a darling without even trying, kerchief and dungarees.
Poem of the Week
I couldn’t make sense of the ruined house, the love stained to its creases.
Sometimes life is a sequence of departures, sometimes a destruction.
Poem of the Week
I see a young ZZ Top smiling, eyes darting from my shirt to my beard.
