5 Poemas de Juliana Spahr

Thrashing Seems Crazy

this is true
a man in an alley grabbed my arm
this is true
someone called me an left the phone dangling at the post office
this is true
a man stalked me

someone tells a story

someone tells a story to another person
another person says I don’t believe this
someone tells the story again in an attempt to convince
someone tells

as disbelief is easy
belief is difficult, supported by constraint

but a woman knows a man stalked her
knows this is true

a woman knows her own address
her own body
her lost domain, her desires, her confusions

someone tells a story

there are things people can do to themselves
they are:
leave molotov cocktail on own yard
set fire to own house
leave a glass of urine on own porch
leave envelope of feces outside own door
send a butcher knife to self at work
send letter to health department that self is spreading VD
stab own back

someone tells this story
says this is true
self turns on self
the knife enters at a point that the self could not have reached
but did
someone tells and then repeats and she stalks herself several
times to convince
someone tries to enter into the information
to pass words back and forth that have meaning
fails, resorts to this is true

this is true
a woman calls her stalker The Poet

this is true
a woman describes a stalker in terms that describe herself

this is true
a woman stalked herself to kill herself

this is true
a woman is at times a man

when a fish is hooked
other fish don’t see the hook

thrashing seems crazy

the hook could be the branding of a woman at a young age
by a man
or an older male neighbor spending too much time with a
child
or the boring nature of life

in the story the hook is the artist’s rendering of the stalker as
described by the woman
it is the woman in a man’s face

she does not know this man
thrashing seems crazy

later she realizes it is herself
her knife
her hook
her own face she was always drawing male

this is true
as thrashing is not crazy when one is on the hook

Narrative

The water is blackish, green, and dark.… Leer más

9 Poemas de Amy Lowell

A Coloured Print By Shokei

It winds along the face of a cliff

This path which I long to explore,

And over it dashes a waterfall,

And the air is full of the roar

And the thunderous voice of waters which sweep

In a silver torrent over some steep.

It clears the path with a mighty bound

And tumbles below and away,

And the trees and the bushes which grow in the rocks

Are wet with its jewelled spray;

The air is misty and heavy with sound,

And small, wet wildflowers star the ground.… Leer más

11 Poemas de Mary Oliver

White-Eyes

In winter
all the singing is in
the tops of the trees
where the wind-bird

with its white eyes
shoves and pushes
among the branches.
Like any of us

he wants to go to sleep,
but he’s restless—
he has an idea,
and slowly it unfolds

from under his beating wings
as long as he stays awake
But his big, round music, after all,
is too breathy to last.
Leer más

Maxine Kumin Visual

En esta edición de «The Writing Life» de HoCoPoLitSo, grabada en 1997, la poeta, novelista y autora de memorias Maxine Kumin habla con su colega poeta Henry Taylor sobre la vida en su granja de New Hampshire, su rima y métrica y cómo se hizo amiga de la poeta Anne Sexton.… Leer más

8 Poemas de Maxine Kumin

Oblivion

The dozen ways they did it –

off a bridge, the back of a boat,

pills, head in the oven, or

wrapped in her mother’s old mink coat

in the garage, a brick on the accelerator,

the Cougar’s motor thrumming

while she crossed over.

What they left behind –

the outline of a stalled novel, diaries,

their best poems, the note that ends

now will you believe me,

offspring of various ages, spouses

who cared and weep and yet

admit relief now that it’s over.Leer más

Betty Friedan

«Una mujer debe poder decir, y no sentirse culpable al hacerlo, ’¿Quién soy? y ¿Qué quiero hacer en mi vida?’ No se debe sentir como una persona egoísta y neurótica si quiere alcanzar metas propias, que no estén relacionadas con su esposo e hijos»

B.Friedan

Esta página es de poesía pero también queremos dar presencia a algunas mujeres que, aunque no escribieron poesía, o no destacaron por ser poetas, su voz como mujeres, pioneras, pensadoras y/o escritoras es tan importante en la historia que creemos deben ser incluidas.… Leer más

15 Poemas de Sharon Olds

Para mi madre

Fuiste mi primera hija, en realidad.
Cuando mi hermana se mudó al cuarto de huéspedes
Empezaste a venir a mí por las noches
Como un niño que no puede dormir, viniendo
Hacia la cama de la madre, así que me convertí en madre
A los siete años. Como la enfermera que pone al recién nacido
En los brazos de una madre, a veces venías
Y te ponías en mis brazos, sintiéndote esponjosa y casi
deshuesada, bolsas de esto
y aquello, plumas húmedas en tus ojos.… Leer más

11 Poemas de Edna St. Vincent Millay

I, being born a woman and distressed

I, being born a woman and distressed
By all the needs and notions of my kind,
Am urged by your propinquity to find
Your person fair, and feel a certain zest
To bear your body’s weight upon my breast:
So subtly is the fume of life designed,
To clarify the pulse and cloud the mind,
And leave me once again undone, possessed.Leer más

12 Poemas de Elizabeth Bishop

Anáfora

Cada día empieza con tanta
ceremonia, con pájaros, campanas,
el silbato de una fábrica;
a cielos de un oro tan blanco se abren
nuestros ojos, a paredes tan brillantes,
que por momentos nos preguntamos
“¿De dónde viene la música, la energía?
Y el día ¿para qué criatura inefable se creó,
que seguro perdimos?”… Leer más

Proudly powered by WordPress | Theme: Baskerville 2 by Anders Noren.

Up ↑