A poem by Adrienne Cecile Rich (1929 – 2012)
the quality of being complete; unbroken condition; entirety
~ Webster
A wild patience has taken me this far
as if I had to bring to shore
a boat with a spasmodic outboard motor
old sweaters, nets, spray-mottled books
tossed in the prow
some kind of sun burning my shoulder-blades.
Splashing the oarlocks. Burning through.
Your fore-arms can get scalded, licked with pain
in a sun blotted like unspoken anger
behind a casual mist.
The length of daylight
this far north, in this
forty-ninth year of my life
is critical.
The light is critical: of me, of this
long-dreamed, involuntary landing
on the arm of an inland sea.
The glitter of the shoal
depleting into shadow
I recognize: the stand of pines
violet-black really, green in the old postcard
but really I have nothing but myself
to go by; nothing
stands in the realm of pure necessity
except what my hands can hold.
Nothing but myself?….My selves.
After so long, this answer.
As if I had always known
I steer the boat in, simply.
The motor dying on the pebbles
cicadas taking up the hum
dropped in the silence.
Anger and tenderness: my selves.
And now I can believe they breathe in me
as angels, not polarities.
Anger and tenderness: the spider’s genius
to spin and weave in the same action
from her own body, anywhere —
even from a broken web.
The cabin in the stand of pines
is still for sale. I know this. Know the print
of the last foot, the hand that slammed and locked the door,
then stopped to wreathe the rain-smashed clematis
back on the trellis
for no one’s sake except its own.
I know the chart nailed to the wallboards
the icy kettle squatting on the burner.
The hands that hammered in those nails
emptied that kettle one last time
are these two hands
and they have caught the baby leaping
from between trembling legs
and they have worked the vacuum aspirator
and stroked the sweated temples
and steered the boat there through this hot
misblotted sunlight, critical light
imperceptibly scalding
the skin these hands will also salve.
A few random poems:
- Юлия Друнина – Елка
- Robert Burns: Verses To Collector Mitchell :
- Why Did I Laugh Tonight? No Voice Will Tell poem – John Keats poems
- Le Christianisme by Wilfred Owen
- Palanquin Bearers by Sarojini Naidu
- A Great Time by William Henry Davies
- The Red Earth of Kupungarri by Nicole M Nugent
- Instead of farewell by Vinko Kalinić
- Philadelphia by Rudyard Kipling
- Children039s Eyes
- Виктор Шамонин-Версенев – Заяц-врун
- Michelle Obama Tribute by Susan King Saunders
- Inscription to Jessie Lewars by Robert Burns
- Autumnal Sonnet by William Allingham
- Spilt Milk by William Butler Yeats
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
- Иннокентий Анненский – Еврипид. Ифигения в Авлиде («Ифигения-жертва») (перевод)
- Иннокентий Анненский – Еврипид. Геракл (перевод)
- Илья Зданевич – Пабло Пикассо
- Илья Зданевич – Ослиный Бох
- Илья Зданевич – Опять на жизненную скуку
- Илья Зданевич – Галоша
- Илья Зданевич – Экспромт
- Илья Эренбург – Жилье в горах, как всякое жилье
- Илья Эренбург – Я знаю, будет золотой и долгий
- Илья Эренбург – Я так любил тебя, до грубых шуток
- Илья Эренбург – Я слышу всё, и горестные шепоты
- Илья Эренбург – Я помню, давно уже я уловил
- Илья Эренбург – Я не трубач, труба
- Илья Эренбург – Я бы мог прожить совсем иначе
- Илья Эренбург – Взвился рыжий, ближе
- Илья Эренбург – Вы приняли меня в изысканной гостиной
- Илья Эренбург – Ода
- Илья Эренбург – О Москве
- Илья Эренбург – Легкий сон
- Илья Эренбург – Круг
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
Adrienne Cecile Rich (1929 – 2012) was an American poet, essayist, and feminist.