Showing posts with label modern poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label modern poetry. Show all posts

Sunday, March 25, 2012

Sunday is for Poetry: A PRAYER FOR CHILDREN by Marian Wright Edelman



We pray for children
Who sneak popsicles before supper,
Who erase holes in math workbooks,
Who can never find their shoes.


And we pray for those
Who stare at photographers from behind barbed wire,
Who can't bound down the street in a new pair of sneakers,
Who never "counted potatoes,"
Who are born in places we wouldn't be caught dead,
Who never go to the circus,
Who live in an X-rated world.


We pray for children
Who bring us sticky kisses and fistfuls of dandelions,
Who hug us in a hurry and forget their lunch money.
And we pray for those
Who never get dessert,
Who have no safe blanket to drag behind them,
Who watch their parents watch them die,
Who can't find any bread to steal,
Who don't have any rooms to clean up,
Whose pictures aren't on anybody's dresser,
Whose monsters are real.


We pray for children
Who spend all their allowance before Tuesday,
Who throw tantrums in the grocery store and pick at their food,
Who like ghost stories,
Who shove dirty clothes under the bed and never rinse out the tub,
Who get visits from the tooth fairy,
Who don't like to be kissed in front of the carpool,
Who squirm in church or temple and scream in the phone,
Whose tears we sometimes laugh at and whose smiles can make us cry.


And we pray for those
Whose nightmares come in the daytime,
Who will eat anything,
Who have never seen a dentist,
Who aren't spoiled by anybody,
Who go to bed hungry and cry themselves to sleep,
Who live and move, but have no being.


We pray for children who want to be carried and for those who must,
For those we never give up on and for those who don't get a second chance.
For those we smother ...
and for those who will grab the hand of anybody kind enough to offer it.




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Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Was March 25, 1909 the Day Modern Poetry was Born?

"Their names have largely been forgotten over time -- TE Hulme, FS Flint, Edward Storer -- but 100 years ago today, a young and edgy group of bohemians met together for the first time and changed the face of poetry for good. Enthusiasts are celebrating 25 March as one of our most significant literary anniversaries, though one that most people know nothing about."

The Guardian (UK) 03/25/09


http://whoseroleisitanyway.blogspot.com/

Sunday, March 22, 2009

SUNDAY IS FOR POETRY: In The Waiting


In the waiting
hope eludes me

Grasping, clinging to memories
made of sand sifted by fate

The hour glass suffocates
all prospects

Dressed in ethereal
death dominates

Absence chokes
any future

In the waiting
I submerge into oblivion.


**written by petra michelle**

Sunday, March 15, 2009

SUNDAY IS FOR POETRY: A Day in My Mother's Life


She sits on her bathing chair

Turns on the tap

Then dampens the cloth

With her sweetest soap


Savoring its scent

The lather slides over her natural markings

A tattoo artist couldn't capture


I wash her hair of silver

Massage her weary mind

The benign wash cloth soothing her back


While the rinse splashes over her

She smiles as if she'd prefer to linger longer

Instead she dresses into her pale blue gown

And crawls into bed.


Perhaps I'll make roast chicken later, she says.


**written by petra michelle**

http://whoseroleisitanyway.blogspot.com/