Because life’s too short to blush,
I keep my blood tucked in.
I won’t be mortified
by what I drive or the flaccid
vivacity of my last dinner party.
I take my cue from statues posing only
in their shoulder pads of snow: all January
you can see them working on their granite tans.
That I woke at an ungainly hour,
stripped of the merchandise that clothed me,
distilled to pure suchness,
means not enough to anyone for me
to confess. I do not suffer
from the excess of taste
that spells embarrassment:
mothers who find their kids unseemly
in their condom earrings,
girls cringing to think
they could be frumpish as their mothers.
Though the late nonerotic Elvis
in his studded gut of jumpsuit
made everybody squeamish, I admit.
Rule one: the King must not elicit pity.
Was the audience afraid of being tainted
–this might rub off on me–
or were they–surrendering–
what a femme word–feeling
solicitous–glimpsing their fragility
in his reversible purples
and unwholesome goldish chains?
At least embarrassment is not an imitation.
It’s intimacy for beginners,
the orgasm no one cares to fake.
I almost admire it. I almost wrote despise.
Copyright ©:
Alice Fulton
A few random poems:
- Scribbles by Suchi Gaur
- Soliloquy Of The Solipsist by Sylvia Plath
- Banishment by Siegfried Sassoon
- I looked here by Stephen Crane
- Vivien
- Whispers of Immortality by T. S. Eliot
- Robert Burns: Address To A Haggis:
- THE MOSAIC by Satish Verma
- He Tells Of A Valley Full Of Lovers by William Butler Yeats
- Robert Burns: Address Of Beelzebub: To the Right Honourable the Earl of Breadalbane, President of the Right Honourable and Honourable the Highland Society, which met on the 23rd of May last at the Shakespeare, Covent Garden, to concert ways and means to frustrate the designs of five hundred Highlanders, who, as the Society were informed by Mr. M’Kenzie of Applecross, were so audacious as to attempt an escape from their lawful lords and masters whose property they were, by emigrating from the lands of Mr. Macdonald of Glengary to the wilds of Canada, in search of that fantastic thing-Liberty.
- A Peck of Gold by Robert Frost
- The Cottager To Her Infant by William Wordsworth
- Crapulous Impression
- I Begin To Think by Satish Verma
- Where we fall by Osman cisse Hanif
External links
Bat’s Poetry Page – more poetry by Fledermaus
Talking Writing Monster’s Page –
Batty Writing – the bat’s idle chatter, thoughts, ideas and observations, all original, all fresh
Poems in English
- Валерий Брюсов – Город сестер любви видение
- Валерий Брюсов – Голубое, голубое
- Валерий Брюсов – Голос мертвого
- Валерий Брюсов – Голос иных миров
- Валерий Брюсов – К портрету Лермонтова
- Валерий Брюсов – К портрету К.Д. Бальмонта
- Валерий Брюсов – К Пасифае. Сонет
- Валерий Брюсов – К народу
- Валерий Брюсов – К моей стране
- Валерий Брюсов – К финскому народу
- Валерий Брюсов – К.Д. Бальмонту (Вечно вольный, вечно юный)
- Валерий Брюсов – К.Д. Бальмонту (Как прежде, мы вдвоем, в ночном кафе. За входом)
- Валерий Брюсов – К большой медведице
- Валерий Брюсов – К Бальмонту (Погасни, исчезни)
- Валерий Брюсов – К Армении
- Валерий Брюсов – К Адалис
- Валерий Брюсов – К.А. Коровину (Душа твоя, быть может, ослепительней)
- Валерий Брюсов – Из-за облака скользящий
- Валерий Брюсов – Из тихих бездн
- Валерий Брюсов – Из песен Мальдуна
More external links (open in a new tab):
Doska or the Board – write anything
Search engines:
Yandex – the best search engine for searches in Russian (and the best overall image search engine, in any language, anywhere)
Qwant – the best search engine for searches in French, German as well as Romance and Germanic languages.
Ecosia – a search engine that supposedly… plants trees
Duckduckgo – the real alternative and a search engine that actually works. Without much censorship or partisan politics.
Yahoo– yes, it’s still around, amazingly, miraculously, incredibly, but now it seems to be powered by Bing.
Parallel Translations of Poetry
The Poetry Repository – an online library of poems, poetry, verse and poetic works
