Poetry Commons^™

New York Symphony, Ed Galing

Bryant Literary Review

It was a drab brownstone

Tenement house we lived in

When I was growing up

Drive-Ins, John Grey

Bryant Literary Review

I should have noticed something

was up when the film stopped mid-reel.

Disconnected, Jim Hart

Bryant Literary Review

I'm leaving you - she said

The words hanging in the air between us

The White Hydrangeas, Larry O'Brien

Bryant Literary Review

You notice them first while getting the mail,

in the airless heat of an August noon,

Come To Bed, Geoffrey Jarok

Bryant Literary Review

It's a sad day for woman.

She sees dreams,

Like a debtor looks at bills.

Go Gentle Into That Good Night (After Dylan Thomas), Bart Edelman

Bryant Literary Review

Please, please, go gentle into that good night,

Old age should never burn at close of day;

Mozart, B. Z. Niditch

Bryant Literary Review

You came to me

early

like butterflies

in my secret universe,

The Swings On Crane Avenue, Parker Williams

Bryant Literary Review

He loved them,

would sit there for hours and dream about flying,

Apple For Your Thought Processes?, Eric Cisternelli

Bryant Literary Review

Like hundreds of flies to a carcass

Sacrificing money at an altar,

C. Bowen, Plumber, Paul Hostovsky

Bryant Literary Review

I like this guy

before we even meet.

He's the only one

Moon Rise, John P. Kristofco

Bryant Literary Review

when colors and their implications fade

into the twist of trees,

Rebel In A Plaid Skirt, Janet Proulx

Bryant Literary Review

She moved robotically through junior high

learned by rote, kept imagination in check,

Shells, Barbara Mackay

Bryant Literary Review

today I walk a sullen beach

its sand a deep gray

had it once been white

Weather Wins, Francine Witte

Bryant Literary Review

It always does. Big blow

from the latest tornado?

That's just nature clearing

Going-Away Party, Elton Glaser

Bryant Literary Review

Inside the white envelope, I find

An invitation to my death.

You can steam off the stamps,

Junior Munson Does The Long Haul, Elton Glaser

Bryant Literary Review

I like to start my mornings

Sunnyside up at a truckstop,

The Propensity For Monologue, John Sibley Williams

Bryant Literary Review

I'd like to be a sparrow,

bring new morning

each time I speak.

To Ansel Adams, John Sibley Williams

Bryant Literary Review

It could have been

color

if mountains and dreams

The Cow Near Matamoros, Carol Hamilton

Bryant Literary Review

Tied to her terror,

her placid, brush-haired sides

so like a back room

Open At 10:00 A.M., Ron Koertge

Bryant Literary Review

I burst into the Gap on the morning

after Labor Day and surprise

the pretty clerks giggling,

Taking Liberties, Jim Hart

Bryant Literary Review

Geography

is melting

Glaciers

My Son Dreams That, As We Fished For Pumpkinseeds, A Shark Ate Me, Charles Harper Webb

Bryant Literary Review

Did I hook the shark, and it yanked me in?

Did it leap, and pluck me off the pier?

Yesterday's Tongue, John Mckernan

Bryant Literary Review

Its syllables

Dripping to the brown earth

Small Blue Butterflies, Buff Whitman-Bradley

Bryant Literary Review

On a walk around the lake

I pause to watch three small blue butterflies

Alone, Ron Koertge

Bryant Literary Review

Maybe it's just the kind of poetry I've been reading,

but I can't help noticing how alone most poets are:

The Poet, In One Last Desperate Attempt To Please His Public, Lays On The Blarney, Louis Phillips

Bryant Literary Review

The words in this poem are quite ordinary.

Bride And Groom, Charles Harper Webb

Bryant Literary Review

Piece by piece, the china slips from soapy hands.

Friends drop the crystal wine-glasses;

Morning Report With Other Disturbances, Stephen R. Roberts

Bryant Literary Review

You might want to head to work a bit early this morning.

Sowing The Seeds, Janet Proulx

Bryant Literary Review

Grandfather would sit in a rocker by the window

smoking a pipe and gazing upon his bountiful garden

Robots, Joseph Scott (J.S.) Kierland

Bryant Literary Review

The Major drove north along 95 into the oncoming darkness. The sun hung low over the desert behind him,