The Courtship of the Spider Lover By Erika Beaver

The Courtship of the Spider Lover By Erika Beaver

She crawls through the spaces

of my wooden architecture,

Calm and quiet as she waits

for the crickets to cross her path.

She stays in her home,

A small, cozy, glass box.

She is used to living with us.

We aren't scared of her anymore.

Along the long, long road

of feeling each others fir.

Till all the creepy crawly

chills we've shared.

I scoop her up in my hand

and pet her.

Poem of the Day: The Courtship of the Lizard Lover

Posted:Sun, 09 Jun 2013 00:00:00 -0600

He crawls through the cracks

of my stone foundation,

 

sly and sleek as

I tempt him with food.

 

He stays out of habit; I cook

out of love for things that move.

 

We grow accustomed to each other's

trails and smells, the skins we've shed

 

along the long, long road

of rubbing each other smooth.

 

Till all the skins we've shed lie sparkling

like so many stones in this desert land.

 

I scoop him up in my hand

and eat him.

week 6 imitation 2 by liz snader

 Among the thorns by liz snader


Oh, the horrid massive grin o’ the green young earth,

This spring moring! How she sets her soul

To lay i’ the sun, and pushes out love and hare

For the thundering to ash over in it girth;

Hearing all the while, where on the pile of dirt

The black chest of the storm awaits dark and looming.

That is the truth, real, new, confusing;

Such are life’s trials, as the young earth smiles and talks.
If you hated only what was worth the time,

Hate were clear to gain, and never good for you:

Make the high nature better than the rest!!

Give the earth you love, go up and gain the respect.


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Among the Rocks

BY ROBERT BROWNING

Oh, good gigantic smile o’ the brown old earth,

      This autumn morning! How he sets his bones

To bask i’ the sun, and thrusts out knees and feet

For the ripple to run over in its mirth;

      Listening the while, where on the heap of stones

The white breast of the sea-lark twitters sweet.

That is the doctrine, simple, ancient, true;

      Such is life’s trial, as old earth smiles and knows.

If you loved only what were worth your love,

Love were clear gain, and wholly well for you:

      Make the low nature better by your throes!

Give earth yourself, go up for gain above!

We Real Lame. By Erika Beaver (imitation)

We Real Lame. By Erika Beaver

We real lame. We
like game. We

Study hard. We

Drink lard. We

Wear glasses. We

Eat molasses. We

Don't care. We

Style hair.

Poem of the Day: We Real Cool

Posted:Fri, 07 Jun 2013 00:00:00 -0600

            We real cool. We   

            Left school. We

            Lurk late. We

            Strike straight. We

            Sing sin. We   

            Thin gin. We

            Jazz June. We   

            Die soon.

Human Race by Connor Kaplan

Human Race by Connor Kaplan

I do mind the human race.

I might have gotten use to them

but they cause so much pain.

In the past couple thousand years they have grown so much.

From just a simple ape to the worlds super predator.

They have learned to control the elements.

They have learned to turn the most basic thing

into a destructive force.

They have changed other species to help them in their conquest.

They take what they want and choose to destroy to build,

And they won’t  stop until nothing is left.

===============================================================

Poem of the Day: Discrimination

Posted:Sat, 01 Jun 2013 00:00:00 -0600

I don't mind the human race.   

I've got pretty used to them   

In these past twenty-five years.   

I don't mind if they sit next   

To me on streetcars, or eat   

In the same restaurants, if   

It's not at the same table.   

However, I don't approve   

Of a woman I respect

Dancing with one of them. I've   

Tried asking them to my home   

Without success. I shouldn't   

Care to see my own sister   

Marry one. Even if she

Loved him, think of the children.   

Their art is interesting,   

But certainly barbarous.   

I'm sure, if given a chance,   

They'd kill us all in our beds.   

And you must admit, they smell.

We are so cool by Connor Kaplan

We are So Cool by Connor Kaplan

We are so cool. We

pee in pools. We

kick crates. We

go on dates. We

like to grin. We

pull the pin. We

chase the coon. We

fly to the moon.

=================================================================

Poem of the Day: We Real Cool

Posted:Fri, 07 Jun 2013 00:00:00 -0600

            We real cool. We   

            Left school. We

            Lurk late. We

            Strike straight. We

            Sing sin. We   

            Thin gin. We

            Jazz June. We   

            Die soon.

A book made of... by Abhishek Raol

A book is made out of stories

stories that are made out of words

words that are built by characters

characters that are constructed by lines

lines that imprinted from pencil lead

lead composed of graphite

graphite held together by millions of carbon atoms

carbon atoms formed by

electrons orbiting a nucleus 

electrons made of quartz

quartz of milk that power my brain

to move the carbon and lead onto my paper

and write the lines for the characters

for the words for the stories for my book

My book was fed milk

A poem that came to this by Abhishek Raol

No this poem might not reach the eyes of any
or maybe the eyes of many
To post or not to post I do not know

But this poem is a poem
of simple thoughts by great minds
the collaboration of eras and worlds

What comes around goes around
and around and around
like a broken carousel
whose drunk operator passed out
tired and intoxicated from the laughter
of children and baby
Who will never wake up to let the kids off

An object in motion shall remain in motion
until stopped by another force
the force of a bus stopping you
on your way to physics
hurrying as you're late
the best lessons come from experience

Simple thoughts by great minds

Roots

BY JOHN PILLER

Mendota, Illinois

It's easy to believe you can go back

Whenever you desire, jump in the car

And drive, arrive at dusk—the hour

You recall most vividly—and walk

Among the buildings spread across the farm,

Out toward the pastures, woods, and fields.

There is music in the leaves, in the dense

Columns of green corn. The wind lays down

The tune. You can play it, too, simply

By walking with eyes closed, arms

Stretched out, lightly striking the stalks.

Who wouldn't desire, like the children

Lost in so many similar fields,

To sit down on the turned earth and drift

Away on the rhythms of his own

First possible death? Rescuing

Voices come closer, veer off. Flashlight beams

Strobe over your head. You do not care.

Each building you remember—hen house,

Sheep shed, corn crib, barn—caved in upon itself,

The walls and roofs collapsing with a final

Percussive clap, since you last walked those fields.

No one you will ever know works that land now.

It is as green as Eden. Life rises in the roots, in the leaves.

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Source: Poetry (September 1998).