a free verse poem in english

 

Of a Certain Friendship

Elsa Gidlow

Odd how you entered my house quietly, Quietly left again. While you stayed you ate at my table, Slept in my bed. There was much sweetness, Yet little was done, little said. After you left there was pain, Now there is no more pain. But the door of a certain room in my house Will be always shut. Your fork, your plate, the glass you drank from, The music you played, Are in that room With the pillow where last your head was laid. And there is one place in my garden Where it’s best that I set no foot. This poem is in the public domain. Published in Poem-a-Day on June 5, 2022, by the Academy of American Poets.

poetry for April

SOUTH VIETNAM-UKRAINES: 48 YEARS

©Nguyen Thi SaiGon

April 2022,

World, you’re all joining hands crying for Ukraine

We too were forced to leave our home the same,

on flimsy boats and cargo planes

We, too, lost our land

Then why 48 years ago you didn’t cry for us

48 years ago we alone pulled our hearse

Unlike Ukraine, we were called The Defeated

but not The Invaded

April 2022,

World, you’re all carrying your torch for Ukraine,

but 48 years ago, no torch for us

‘cause our war was brotherhood at battle,

yet Soviet was involved,

to have Marx installed

And China too, after Nixon’s trip

Tell me, then, about the international chip

that turned off the world’s light, and turned on our fate

So let me reach out to that Ukrainian,

whose sickly grandmother may be dying after too much weep

while skeleton grandfather keeps on living

in hopes of a reunion

but death already signals,

in separation

You, my Ukrainian counterpart, can’t rush back to take them with you

Promises no longer hold true

April 2022,

48 years ago, I crossed the ocean

I, too, left behind a sick grandmother

and the feeble grandfather, trembling his skeleton self

***

So, my counterpart Ukrainian, in memory we meet

On the last plane out, I did not look back,

and pretended I had no more slack

Before the airport was rocketed,

I heard a soldier had shot himself, to avoid being executed,

as invaders rolled in, tanks and armies in uniform,

The world ahead of me said no,

no invasion

So, no,

no intervention

The winners declared

April their Liberation

I am grieving for you, that Ukrainian

The wrenching moment when you depart,

you, too, must have a grandmother, whose tears pierce her heart

and a feeble grandfather who lives on to starve

When they die, only their souls fly to your side

Like me, you will learn to live through the night

So let me sing to you, Ukraine

the song of my defunct home:

I am that collapsed South Vietnam whose grandparents have long been dead

In the gap of 48 years, my wound’s still fresh

oozing still, behind emotional bandaid

You, Ukraine and me,

the child of liberty,

our right to be free

© Nguyen Thi Saigon 4/12/2022

musicality in poetry in English

FAIR USE EXCEPTION TO COPYRIGHT


testify

Eve L. Ewing


i stand before you to say
that today i walked home
& caught the light through
the fence & it was so golden
i wanted to cry & i lifted
my right hand to say thank
you god for the sun thank
you god for a chain link fence
& all the shoes that fit into
the chain link fence so that
we might get lifted god thank
you & i just wanted to dance
& it feels good to have food
in your belly & it feels good
to be home even when home
is the space between metal
shapes & still we are golden
& a man who wore the walk
of hard grounds & lost days
came toward me in the street
& said ‘girl what a beautiful
day’ & i said yes, testify
& i walked on & from some
place a horn rose, an organ,
a voice, a chorus, here to tell
you that we are not dead
we are not dead we are not
dead we are not dead we are
not dead we are not dead
we are not dead we are not
dead
yet






The Crystal Gazer

Sara Teasdale




I shall gather myself into myself again,
I shall take my scattered selves and make them one,
Fusing them into a polished crystal ball
Where I can see the moon and the flashing sun.

I shall sit like a sibyl, hour after hour intent,
Watching the future come and the present go,
And the little shifting pictures of people rushing
In restless self-importance to and fro.

GIÓ -- THE ENGLISH VERSION

 I wrote creatively mostly for myself. I find the whole process of seeking literary agents and publishers to be a hassle that hampers the creative process.  Thank God I am a lawyer and don't have to write for a living, fame or fortune...

GIÓ

 OH MY WIND,

FROM TEMPEST TO TEMPEST

 

Gió thổi rừng thu qua rừng đông

Tôi nghe từng giọt nhỏ trong lòng

Sương chiều biến dạng thành câu hát

Tôi khép mình lên những nhánh thông

            From the forest of leaves to a sea of snow – Autumn to Winter

            Tempest my Wind traverses

            from dewdrops to notes on the staff, escape or encounter

            My Beethoven converses

            

            And I, nestling  against branches of pine,

            risking all to embrace you, the least of mine

 Gió thổi trên thông, như thở than

Tôi nhìn ra gió ngự trên ngàn

Dêm về gió rít triền miên hận

Uất nghẹn là dao, cắt tiếng đàn

            Breathe over those pines, Tempest my Wind, and lament to me

            I recognize you, mountain-reign and freedom-flee

            But at night, teeth-grinding and soul-bearing grudge

            Oh my Wind, you become a butcher’s knife, and chop my piano shut

 Gió thổi từ trên hoà xuống dưới

Tôi tìm thượng đế ngự trong em

Gió không là xích, hay cai ngục

Em vẽ dùm tôi một đức tin

             Keep on blowing, my Wind, from above-Heaven and below-Hell

            Where’s our creator, except in you, Tempest, my Shakespeare will tell

            But you‘re no shackle, nor prison guard of late

            So paint for me, with your head and toe, a God-given faith 

Gió thổi từ Nam ra ải Bắc

Đuổi theo vó ngựa cuả chinh phu

Em đứng bên song, đừng khóc nhé

Khi gió mang về khúc viễn du

             Keep exhaling, from peninsula’s South to borders’ North

            In your last travel, chase after the warrior’s horse

            His widow’s leaning upon her window frame, no tears please

            when you, my Wind, return to deliver the final freeze

Gió thổi bên này, bên đó se

Lạnh như mưa bão giữa trưa hè

Bên ngoài ướt sũng thân co lại

Bên trong hừng hực khói u mê 

            Wheeze on, my Wind, from this side of heat to the other cold

            Trembling tropical rain in summer mid-day, burned with fire told

            Outward: dripping-blood frost, the body shrinks

            Inward: charcoaled feverish smoke, the soul blinks  

Tôi sẽ van xin cùng với gió

Đừng đa mang nữa, nợ trầm kha

Chuyển làm chi nếu mây hờ hững

Vứt bỏ oan khiên, trở lại nhà

             I will have to beg, my Wind, to drop it all, such sinking debt

            Not your job to move, if floating clouds don’t fret

            Go back home to find poetic justice

            Be it yours, life’s only apprentice

Gió trốn về đây, trong mắt em

Hình như gió vẫn khắt khe tìm

Xin em nhắm mắt và an nghỉ

Để gió tan đi...mộng hão huyền

            You can seek refuge now in the Lady’s ebony eyes

            Sternly searching still, Tempest to Tempest you fool, oh the sun still shines

            upon you, so in peace close the black velvet curtain,  

            let the last gleam die out, life vanishes, and stage’s certain          

 

Dnn © Dec.28,2021-Jan 17, 2022

 

am van dieu trong tho Anh My: THE NEW YEAR

 

The New Year Carrie Williams Clifford The New Year comes—fling wide, fling wide the door Of Opportunity! the spirit free To scale the utmost heights of hopes to be, To rest on peaks ne’er reached by man before! The boundless infinite let us explore, To search out undiscovered mystery, Undreamed of in our poor philosophy! The bounty of the gods upon us pour! Nay, in the New Year we shall be as gods: No longer apish puppets or dull clods Of clay; but poised, empowered to command, Upon the Etna of New Worlds we’ll stand— This scant earth-raiment to the winds will cast— Full richly robed as supermen at last! This poem is in the public domain. Published in Poem-a-Day on January 1, 2022, by the Academy of American Poets.