Yesterday I was the Moon

Yesterday I was the Moon by Noor Unnahar When I started to get into art journaling and bullet journaling and scrapbooking and all those kind of things, I stalked people who had pretty journals online. One of those people was Noor Unnahar. She made beautiful spreads, had a gorgeous handwriting and wrote amazing poems. I have…

Yesterday | Poem

Yesterday by W.S. Merwin My friend says I was not a good son you understand I say yes I understand he says I did not go to see my parents very often you know and I say yes I know even when I was living in the same city he says maybe I would go…

Luck in Sarajevo | Poem

Luck in Sarajevo by Izet Sarajlic Staying Alive: Real Poems for Unreal Times In Sarajevo in the spring of 1992, everything is possible: you got stand in a bread line and end up in an emergency room with your leg amputated. Afterwards, you still maintain that you were very lucky. Luck in Sarajevo is a…

Cuba | Poem

Cuba by Paul Muldoon Staying Alive: Real Poems for Unreal Times My eldest sister arrived home that morning In her white muslin evening dress. ‘Who the hell do you think you are Running out to dances in next to nothing? As though we hadn’t enough bother With the world at war, if not at an end.’…

Lying in a Hammock at William Duffy’s Farm in Pine Island, Minnesota | Poem

Lying in a Hammock at William Duffy’s Farm in Pine Island, Minnesota by James Wright Above the River: The Complete Poems and Selected Prose Over my head, I see the bronze butterfly,    Asleep on the black trunk, Blowing like a leaf in green shadow.    Down the ravine behind the empty house,    The cowbells follow one another    Into…

Miss Berry | Poem

Miss Berry by Liz Berry Black Country I have learnt to write rows of o’s bobbing hopeful as hot air balloons from the line’s tethers and watched eight springs of frogspawn grow legs but never . . . and conducted clashy-bashy orchestras of chime bars ocarina thundering tambour and curled my hand over another hand to…

Those Winter Sundays | Poem

Those Winter Sundays by Robert Hayden Staying Alive: Real Poems for Unreal Times Sundays too my father got up early and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold, then with cracked hands that ached from labor in the weekday weather made banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him. I’d wake and hear the cold…

Milk and Honey

Milk and Honey by Rupi Kaur Milk and Honey is the first ever poetry book I’ve ever read in full. I found out about Rupi Kaur through Pinterest. I was just browsing the home pages where I kept coming across all these little poems with cute little drawings alongside them. I read them all and…