POETRY

ALLEGRO MA NON TROPPO – Poetry by Wislawa Szymborska Life, you’re beautiful (I say), you just couldn’t get more fecund, more befrogged or nightingaily, more anthillful or sproutspouting. I’m trying to court life’s favor, to get into its good graces, to anticipate its whims. I’m always the first to bow, always there where it can see me, with my humble, …

He began to write poetry since he was very young, when he was no more than seven years. In ’28 Attilio Bertolucci collaborated in the Gazzetta di Parma. He is born on November day, 1911 near Parma. In ’31 he enrolled at the Faculty of Law in Parma. In ’33 was a lifelong companion, Ninetta Giovanardi, and he published the …

He is Cheyenne, Oglala and French. He served in the U. S. Marine Corps after high school, during the Vietnam War, and is a graduate of Oklahoma College of Liberal Arts in Chickasha. He was born in Washington, D. C. in 1944. He was raised on a farm near Calumet, Oklahoma by his great aunt and uncle, Bertha and Bob …

PRELUDE – Oh air of evening wrap me, now that I die again. When it will close my eyes, there will be no sea for boats of tears. I go and leave you closed all the rain. But I will return again to every season that I want. I was the sadness of the world. Oh air of evening wrap …

TOPOGRAPHY – Poetry by Sharon Olds After we flew across the country we got in bed, laid our bodies delicately together, like maps laid face to face, East to West, my San Francisco against your New York, your Fire Island against my Sonoma, my New Orleans deep in your Texas, your Idaho bright on my Great Lakes, my Kansas burning …

EVENING IN NEW MEXICO – Poetry by Andrew Downing Far off the Rio Grande crawls, a silver serpent in the sand. And sweetly, softly, slowly falls the shade of twilight on the land. The mockingbird, that all the day has piped, entangling note with note, in merry song, and roundelay, has quelled the lyrics in his throat. In meditation, buried …

HEATHROW, IN TRANSIT – By James Watters The warmth of Nairobi in January is gone now. Here it’s cold and drizzly, a savannah of tarmac and metal jumbos before me. My natural rhythms have given way, to this soaring erratic chase of the sun. But I return to warmth, the desert heat of southern Arizona, and the ardent glow, of …

FLYING AT FORTY – Poem by Erica Jong You call me courageous, I who grew up gnawing on books, as some kids gnaw on bubble gum, who married disastrously not once but three times, yet have a lovely daughter, I would not undo for all the dope in California. Fear was my element, fear my contagion. I swam in it, …

SI TUS OJOS FUERAN LUCEROS – Anónimo Si tus ojos fueran luceros, y tus labios el mar, qué paisaje tan bonito para poder admirar. IF YOUR EYES WERE BRIGHT STARS – If your eyes were bright stars, and your lips the sea, how nice to admire the landscape. UNA FLOR EN EL CAMINO – Amado Nervo La muerta resucita cuando …

Important Venezuelan poet, member of the “Generation 28”, he was born on August 1, 1896 in Cumana. Andrés Eloy Blanco attended primary school and part of the middle, completing their education in Caracas, graduating from the Central University of Doctor in political and social sciences. From a young age he showed great literary talent, which was recognized in various competitions. …