Internet Poetry Resources

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My Poems

Sorry, at this point in time, my stuff is not available anonymously. I would be very happy to mail you pointers to my poems, so if you are interested send me e-mail! But this way I know who gets them so I can impose on you for feedback...

My Favorite Poems

This, like everything else on the web, is a work in progress. I will be adding my favorite poems as time permits.

Stephen Dunn


I've sought out corner bars, lived in corner houses;
   like everyone else I've reserved 
corner tables, thinking they'd be sufficient. 
   I've met at corners 
perceived as crossroads, loved to find love 
   leaning against a lamp post 
but have known the abruptness of corners too, 
   the pivot, the silence. 
I've sat in corners at parties hoping for someone 
   who knew the virtue 
of both distance and close quarters, someone with a 
   corner person's taste 
for intimacy, hard won, rising out of shyness 
   and desire. 
And I've turned corners there was no going back to, 
in the middle of a room that led 
   to Spain or solitude. 
And always the thin line between corner 
   and cornered, 
the good corners of bodies and those severe bodies 
   that permit no repose, 
the places we retreat to, the places we can't bear 
   to be found. 

Peter Meinke

The Heart's Location

all my plans for suicide are ridiculous
I can never remember the heart's location
too cheap to smash the car
too queasy to slash a wrist
once jumped off a bridge
almost scared myself to death
then spent two foggy weeks
waiting for new glasses

of course I really want to live
continuing my lifelong search
for the world's greatest unknown cheap restaurant
and a poem full of ordinary words
about simple things
in the inconsolable rhythms of the heart

Ted Hughes

October Dawn

October is marigold, and yet
A glass half full of wine left out

To the dark heaven all night, by dawn
Has dreamed a premonition

Of ice across its eye as if
The ice-age had begun to heave.

The lawn overtrodden and strewn
From the night before, and the whistling green

Shrubbery are doomed.  Ice
Has got its spearhead into place.

First a skin, delicately here
Restraining a ripple from the air;

Soon plate and rivet on pond and brook;
Then tons of chain and massive lock

To hold rivers.  Then, sound by sight
Will Mammoth and Saber-tooth celebrate

Reunion while a fist of cold
Squeezes the fire at the core of the world,

Squeezes the fire at the core of the heart,
And now it is about to start.

Ted Kooser

At the Office Early

Rain has beaded the panes
of my office windows,
and in each little lens
the bank at the corner
hangs upside down.
What wonderful music
the rain must have made
in the night, a thousand banks
turned over, the change
crashing out of the drawers
and bouncing upstairs
to the roof, the soft
percussion of ferns
dropping out of their pots,
the ballpoint pens
popping out of their sockets
in a fluffy snow
of deposit slips.
Now all day long,
as the sun dries the glass,
I'll hear the soft piano
of banks righting themselves,
the underpaid tellers
counting their nickels and dimes.

Margaret Atwood

They eat out

In restaurants we argue
over which of us will pay for your funeral

though the real question is
whether or not I will make you immortal.

At the moment only I
can do it and so

I raise the magic fork
over the plate of beef fried rice

and plunge it into your heart.
There is a faint pop, a sizzle

and through your own split head
you rise up glowing;

the ceiling opens
a voice sings Love Is A Many

Splendoured Thing
you hang suspended above the city

in blue tights and a red cape,
your eyes flashing in unison.

The other diners regard you
some with awe, some only with boredom;

they cannot decide if you are a new weapon
or only a new advertisement.

As for me, I continue eating;
I liked you better the way you were,
but you were always ambitious.

James Tate

A Wedding

She was in terrible pain the whole day,
as she had been for months: a slipped disc,
and there is nothing more painful.  She

herself was a nurse's aide, also a poet
just beginning to make a name for her
nom de plume.  As with most things in life,

it happened when she was changing channels
on her television.  The lucky man, on the other
hand, was smiling for the first time

in his life, and it was fake.  He was
an aspiring philosopher of dubious potential,
very serious, but somehow lacking in

essential depth.  He could have been
an adequate undertaker.  It was not the first
time for either of them.  It was a civil

service, with no music, few flowers.
Still, there was a slow and erratic tide
of champagne--corks shot clear into the trees.

And flashcubes, instant photos, some blurred
and some too revealing, cake slices that aren't
what they were meant to be.  The bride slept

through much of it, and never did we figure out
who was one whose team.  I think the groom
meant it in the end when he said, "We never

thought anyone would come."  We were not the first
to arrive, nor the last to leave.  Who knows,
it may all turn out for the best.  And who

really cares about such special days, they
are not what we live for.