poems and pickaxes

September 1, 1939 by W. H. Auden I sit in one of the dives On Fifty-second Street Uncertain and afraid As the clever hopes expire Of a low d...

MAIDS by: Aleksandar Ristović (translated by Charles Simic) One is in the cellar, the other one is in the attic. One carries a lamp ...

NO ONE WILL WRITE POETRY. by Matija Bećković (translated by Charles Simic) No one will write poetry anymore, The immortal themes will...

IN A DARK HOUR by: Jovan Hristić (translated by Chrales Simic) In a dark hour (there are more and more of them now), He sits alone af...

"My hunger is infinite and my hands always empty..." by Rade Drainac (translated by Charles Simic) My hunger is infinite and ...

NOTHING WHATSOEVER by: Fujiwara no Yasusue (translated by Donald Keene) Nothing whatsoever Remains of you in this grass We once used ...

SILENCE by Marianne Moore My father used to say, 'Superior people never make long visits, have to be shown Longfellow's gr...

NEITHER OUT FAR NOR IN DEEP by Robert Frost The people along the sand All turn and look one way. They turn their back on the land. The...

THE DRAFT HORSE by Robert Frost With a lantern that wouldn't burn In too frail a buggy we drove Behind too heavy a horse Through ...

WIND, ANT, HISTORY by Özdemir İnce (translated by Talat Sait Halman) The wind had hanged itself on the plane tree "death is God&#...

THE SECRET by John Clare I loved thee, though I told thee not,    Right earlily and long, Thou wert my joy in every spot,    My ...

"When a man dies..." by Anna Akhmatova When a man dies the portraits of him change. The eyes have a different look and the ...

SOUND OF THE NIGHT by Xu Yunuo (translated by Michelle Yeh) In the dark, lonely night Nothing is visible, Only a rustling -- the sound...

"Needles..." by Daigu Sochiku Needles pierce my ailing body, and my pain grows greater.  This life of mine, which has been lik...

Waking Up by Jorge Luis Borges (translated by Alastair Reid) Daylight leaks in, and sluggishly I surface from my own dreams into the co...

THE CAT Guillaume Apollinaire In my house I want: A reasonable woman, A cat passing among the books, And friends in every season, Wh...

"nowhere" by Charles Bukowski well, where are they? the Hemingways, the T.S. Eliots, the Pounds, the e.e. cummingses, the Je...

"I have given up..." by Saigyō Hōshi (translated by Stephen D Carter) I have given up    all hope of having visitors      in...

HE LIVED SO LITTLE by Nikolai Morshen (translated by Bradley Jordan) He lived so little: only forty years. In words like these there’s ...

SONGS OF DEPRESSION by Yang Wan-li (translated by Jonathan Chaves) 1. I don't feel like reading another book, and I'm tired of...

"I'm wealthy..." by Bashō I'm wealthy-- going into the new year with 20 pounds of old rice

WAITING FOR THE BARBARIANS by C.P. Cavafy (translated by Keeley & Sherrard) What are we waiting for, assembled in the forum?     ...

ICELAND POPPIES by Ruth Dallas You ask me      What I am saying      In my poems. What am I saying?      That everything      is fa...

Night. A streetlight, a drugstore, A street. A vacuous shadowy light. Live five, ten, fifteen years more -- Nothing will change.  There&...

Every Day by Ingeborg Bachmann War is no longer declared, merely perpetuated. The outrageous has become commonplace. The hero st...

KEEPING QUIET by Pablo Neruda Now we will count to twelve and we will all keep still. For once on the face of the earth, let’s not s...

from HYMNS IN DARKNESS by Nissim Ezekiel I met a man once who had wasted half his life, partly in exile from himself, partly in a pr...

IF HOT FLOWERS COME TO THE STREET by R. Meenakshi (translated by Martha Ann Selby) Red cassia flowers are a forest fire, or so they sa...

TWO POEMS AFTER READING THE POEMS OF MASTER HAN SHAN by Wang Chiu-ssu (1461-1551) (translated by Jonathan Chaves) 1. This crazy man has...

I have stolen a man but never a thing of value I roll up the bamboo blind -- Suzuki Masajo

a great big cat flooped out asleep on a round paper fan -- Issa

"now the trip is over..." by Mayuzumi Madoka now the trip is over -- my summer holidays start their B-side

In Praise Of Feeling Bad About Yourself by Wislawa Szymborska The buzzard never says it is to blame. The panther wouldn't know wh...

Things by Jorge Luis Borges The fallen volume, hidden by others from sight in the recesses of the bookshelves, and which the days and ...

Empire Of Dreams by Charles Simic On the first page of my dreambook It’s always evening In an occupied country. Hour before the curfe...

Counting the Mad by Donald Justice This one was put in a jacket, This one was sent home, This one was given bread and meat But would ...

Acquainted with the Night by Robert Frost I have been one acquainted with the night. I have walked out in rain—and back in rain. I hav...

A Story by Czeslaw Milosz Now I will tell Meader's story; I have a moral in view. He was pestered by a grizzly so bold and maliciou...

Browning Resolves To Be A Poet by Jorge Luis Borges (translated by Alastair Reid) In these red London labyrinths I find that I have cho...

We Are Many by Pablo Neruda (translated by Alastair Reid) Of the many men who I am, who we are, I can't find a single one; they di...

Curriculum Vitae by Blanca Varela (translated by Ilan Stavanas) let's say you won the race and the prize was another race you did...

A Poem by José Asunción Silva I dreamed in those days of fashioning a poem of nervous and novel art, daring and superior labor, I ch...

poetry readings by Charles Bukowski poetry readings have to be some of the saddest damned things ever, the gathering of the clansmen a...

The Sailor by Geof Hewitt In my movie the boat goes under And he alone survives the night in the cold ocean, Swimming he hopes in a sh...

Library by Roberto Bolano Books I buy Between the strange rains And heat Of 1992 Which I've already read Or will never read Bo...

F.B. -- He dead by Roberto Bolano Francis Bacon Learned to live Alone Learned to bear The slowness Of human dusk Its unbearable st...

"My gift to you will be an abyss, she said..." by Roberto Bolano My gift to you will be an abyss, she said, but it will be so...

"Now you walk alone along the piers..." by Roberto Bolano Now you walk alone along the piers of Barcelona. You smoke a black...

"Your Distant Heart" by Roberto Bolano I don't feel safe Anywhere. The adventure doesn't end. Your eyes shine in ev...

"It's nighttime and I'm in the Zone Alta..." by Roberto Bolano It's nighttime and I'm in the Zone Alta in Bar...

Solitude by Roberto Bolano Does it amuse you that I write in third person? Does it amuse you that I sometimes say in 100 years we...

"The nightmare begins over there, right there..." by Roberto Bolano The nightmare begins over there, right there. Further, up...

"Write of widows, the abandoned ones..." by Roberto Bolano Write of widows, the abandoned ones, the elderly, the handicapped,...

"In a thousand years nothing will be left..."  by Roberto Bolano In a thousand years nothing will be left of all that's b...

Daybreak by Roberto Bolano Trust me, I'm in the middle of my room waiting for rain. I'm alone. I don't care if I finish my...

Having a Coke with You by Frank O’Hara is even more fun than going to San Sebastian, Irún, Hendaye, Biarritz,      Bayonne or being si...

Voice Mail Villanelle  by Dan Skwire We're grateful that you called today And sorry that we're occupied. We will be with you r...

The Story by Mark Strand It is the old story: complaints about the moon sinking into the sea, about stars in the first light fading, a...

The Accident by Mark Strand A train runs over me. I feel sorry for the engineer who crouches down and whispers in my ear that he i...

The Serpent by Theodore Roethke There was a Serpent who had to sing. There was. There was. He simply gave up Serpenting. Because. Bec...

The Favorite by Theodore Roethke A knave who scampered through the needle's eye, He never trembled at a veiled remark. His oyster ...

The Geranium by Theodore Roethke When I put her out, once, by the garbage pail, She looked so limp and bedraggled, So foolish and trus...

Dolor by Theodore Roethke I have known the inexorable sadness of pencils, Neat in their boxes, dolor of pad and paper-weight, All the ...

XVII by James Joyce Because your voice was at my side    I gave him pain, Because within my hand I held    Your hand again. There i...

Don’t Ask Me Why by Alexander Pushkin Don’t ask me why, alone in dismal thought, In times of mirth, I’m often filled with strife, And ...

Remembrance by Aleksandr Pushkin (Scott Horton transl.) When the noisy day of mortal men grows still With illusory nocturnal shadows. ...

The Poet by Lawrence Durrell Time marched against my egg, But Saturn hatched it: Furnished two rusty claws, The antelope's logic: ...

King don Luis by Oscar Vladislas de Lubicz-Milosz (tr. John Peck) King don Luis wanted to see again The palace called Sweet Years. C...

An Illustrated Guide to the Post-Apocalypse poem by Annelyse Gelman filming by Auden Lincoln-Vogel

"I'm beginning to know myself. I don't exist..." by Fernando Pessoa (tr. Edwin Honig & Susan M Brown) I'm beg...

“Life: XIX” by Emily Dickinson “Pain has an element of blank; It cannot recollect When it began, or if there were A day when it w...

The Figure In The Scene by Thomas Hardy           It pleased her to step in front and sit              Where the cragged slope was gree...

The Photograph by Thomas Hardy The flame crept up the portrait line by line As it lay on the coals in the silence of night's profo...

By Her Aunt's Grave by Thomas Hardy 'Sixpence a week', says the girl to her lover, 'Aunt used to bring me, for she coul...

Sonnet by Ezra Pound If on the tally-board of wasted days They daily write me for proud idleness, Let high Hell summons me, and I con...

Another Long Night in the Office of Dreams  by Jeffrey McDaniel There’s a woman I’m in love with, but I forget what she looks like, so ...

Tragedy by Meerbaum-Eisinger (tr. Pearl Fichman) Dec. 23, 1941 This is the hardest: to give yourself and know that you are unwant...

You Will Hear Thunder by Anna Akhmatova You will hear thunder and remember me, And think: she wanted storms. The rim Of the sky will b...

Song of Wine by Émile Nelligan (Translation by Fred Cogswell) “Fresh in joy, life, light - all things coincide, This fine May eve ! ...

Broken Things  by Sara Teasdale Broken things are loveliest,         Broken clouds when dusk is red, Broken waves where a rainbow rid...

Mr. Cogito Meditates on Suffering by Zbigniew Herbert (tr. John & Bogdana Carpenter) All attempts to remove the so-called cup o...

And the days are not full enough by Ezra Pound And the days are not full enough And the nights are not full enough And life slips by l...

The Art of Poetry by Jorge Luis Borges To gaze at a river made of time and water and remember Time is another river. To know we stray ...

Among Many Tasks by Tadeusz Rozewicz  (tr. Magnus J. Krynski & Robert A. Maguire) Among many tasks very urgent I've forgotten ...

Missing You by Shu Ting (tr. Carolyn Kizer) A multi-colored chart without a boundary; An equation chalked on the board, with no solutio...

Travel with Grief--Goodbye to Joy by Nguyen Chi Thien (tr. Huynh Sanh Thong) Travel with grief--goodbye to joy! For baggage you have sw...

A Dress Of Fire by Dahlia Ravikovitch (tr. Chana Bloch & Ariel Bloch) You know, she said, they made you a dress of fire. Remember ...

Belfast Tune by Joseph Brodsky Here's a girl from a dangerous town.      She crops her dark hair short so that less of her has to ...

The New York Intellectual by Robert Lowell How often was their last salute recast? Did the old critic need three hundred words, such t...

My November Guest by Robert Frost My Sorrow, when she's here with me, Thinks these dark days of autumn rain Are beautiful as days ...

Life Story by Tennessee Williams After you've been to bed together for the first time, without the advantage or disadvantage of...

Fireflies in the Garden by Robert Frost Here come real stars to fill the upper skies, And here on earth come emulating flies, That tho...

The Unknown Citizen by W. H. Auden (To JS/07 M 378 This Marble Monument Is Erected by the State) He was found by the Bureau of Stati...

"I would describe myself..." by Rainer Maria Rilke I would describe myself like a landscape I've studied at length, in d...

Youth and Art by Robert Browning “It once might have been, once only: We lodged in a street together, You, a sparrow on the housetop...