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Spring Has Sprung by Anonymous Spring has sprung, The grass has riz, I wonder where the birdies is. They say the birdy's on the wing....

Amaryllis by Jessica Lamb I brought it home to find a blossom already come and gone in the dark box. The petals were slippery and stank...

When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd by Walt Whitman 1 When lilacs last in the dooryard bloom’d, And the great star early droop’d in...

The Wild Horses of Chernobyl by Martha Silano I can’t stop thinking about the wild horses of Chernobyl, keep going back to the sepia...

Sonnet by Alice Notley The late Gracie Allen was a very lucid comedienne, Especially in the way that lucid means shining and bright....

Midwest by Paula Bonnell My heart is like Chicago’s Union Station. Once it was full of a thunder of arrivals, departures. In the gusty...

In Praise of Ice Cream Vending Machines at a Greyhound Bus Station by Aimee Nezhukumatathil All the buttons promise ...

Spring by Edna St. Vincent Millay To what purpose, April, do you return again? Beauty is not enough. You can no longer quiet me with the...

The Bean Eaters by Gwendolyn Brooks They eat beans mostly, this old yellow pair. Dinner is a casual affair. Plain chipware on a plain...

Self-Portrait Poem That Is Also a Study by Fabienne Josaphat I see myself in her in photos, and see her in myself. Lately it seems I see...

Planetarium by Adrienne Rich Thinking of Caroline Herschel (1750—1848) astronomer, sister of William; and others. A woman in the...

There will come soft rains (War Time) by Sara Teasdale There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground, And swallows circling...

Crossroads by Joyce Sutphen The second half of my life will be black to the white rind of the old and fading moon. The second half of my...

Lately               by Patricia Fargnoli Sometimes, at night I venture out 
 into the roiling universe, just stand 
on the front lawn,...

Before Breasts by Carla Carlson (published in Mom Egg Review, July 2012 ) I was happy, and slept all night long. Everyone loved me. I...

The Land of Nod by Robert Louis Stevenson From breakfast on through all the day At home among my friends I stay, But every night I go...

Not Forgotten by Toi Derricotte I love the way the black ants use their dead. They carry them off like warriors on their steel backs....

To My Valentine by Ogden Nash More than a catbird hates a cat, Or a criminal hates a clue, Or the Axis hates the United States, That's...

Dulce Et Decorum Est by Wilfred Owen Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through...

Sorrow Is Not My Name by Ross Gay —after Gwendolyn Brooks (published in his 2011 book, Bringing the Shovel Down, published by the...