The Island
by Milton Acorn
Since I’m Island-born home’s as precise
as if a mumbly old carpenter,
shoulder-straps crossed wrong,
laid it out, refigured
to the last three-eighths of shingle.
Nowhere that plowcut worms
heal themselves in red loam;
spruces squat, skirts in sand
or the stones of a river rattle its dark
tunnel under the elms,
is there a spot not measured by hands;
no direction I couldn’t walk
to the wave-lined edge of home.
Quiet shores — beaches that roar
but walk two thousand paces and the sea
becomes an odd shining
glimpse among the jeweled
zigzag low hills. Any wonder
your eyelashes are wings
to fly your look both in and out?
In the coves of the land all things are discussed.
In the ranged jaws of the Gulf,
a red tongue.
Indians say a musical God
took up his brush and painted it,
named it in His own language
“The Island”.
End of the poem
15 random poems
- Ольга Высотская – Здравствуй, праздник
- the secrets , we hide by tulip
- Batty by Shel Silverstein
- A Meeting poem – Alfred Austin
- Birds heavenly by Sunil Sharma
- Robert Burns: O Wert Thou In The Cauld Blast:
- Степан Щипачев – Тебе
- Nell Barnes by William Henry Davies
- A Quick Ode to Spam, a Poem about Spam
- Robert Burns: On A Noisy Polemic:
- Вера Полозкова – Губы плавя в такой ухмылке
- Busy Heart, The by Rupert Brooke
- South London Sketch poem – John Betjeman poems
- Come In by Robert Frost
- 致老鼠的铅笔
Some external links:
Duckduckgo.com – the alternative in the US
Quant.com – a search engine from France, and also an alternative, at least for Europe
Yandex – the Russian search engine (it’s probably the best search engine for image searches).
