30 Days of Poetry

Gather * Rose McLarney

Some springs, apples bloom too soon. The trees have grown here for a hundred years, and are still quick to trust that the frost has finished. Some springs, pink petals turn black. Those summers, the orchards are empty and quiet. No reason for the bees to come.

Other summers, red apples beat hearty in the trees, golden apples glow in sheer skin. Their weight breaks branches, the ground rolls with apples, and you fall in fruit.

You could say, I have been foolish. You could say, I have been fooled. You could say, Some years, there are apples.

Black Sea * Mark Strand

One clear night while the others slept, I climbed
the stairs to the roof of the house and under a sky
strewn with stars I gazed at the sea, at the spread of it,
the rolling crests of it raked by the wind, becoming
like bits of lace tossed in the air. I stood in the long
whispering night, waiting for something, a sign, the approach
of a distant light, and I imagined you coming closer,
the dark waves of your hair mingling with the sea,
and the dark become desire, and desire the arriving light.
The nearness, the momentary warmth of you as I stood
on that lonely height watching the slow swells of the sea
break on the shore and turn briefly into glass and disappear …
Why did I believe you would come out of nowhere? Why with all
that the world offers would you come only because I was here?

Horses at Midnight Without a Moon * Jack Gilbert

Our heart wanders lost in the dark woods.
Our dream wrestles in the castle of doubt.
But there's music in us. Hope is pushed down
but the angel flies up again taking us with her.
The summer mornings begin inch by inch
while we sleep, and walk with us later
as long-legged beauty through
the dirty streets. It is no surprise 
that danger and suffering surround us.
What astonishes is the singing.
We know the horses are there in the dark
meadow because we can smell them,
can hear them breathing. 
Our spirit persists like a man struggling 
through the frozen valley
who suddenly smells flowers
and realizes the snow is melting
out of sight on top of the mountain,
knows that spring has begun.

The Mercy * Philip Larkin

Imperatives * Marilyn Buck

For Women Who are Difficult to Love

-

you are a horse running alone
and he tries to tame you
compares you to an impossible highway
to a burning house
says you are blinding him
that he could never leave you
forget you
want anything but you
you dizzy him, you are unbearable
every woman before or after you
is doused in your name
you fill his mouth
his teeth ache with memory of taste
his body just a long shadow seeking yours
but you are always too intense
frightening in the way you want him
unashamed and sacrificial 
he tells you that no man can live up to the one who 
lives in your head
and you tried to change didn’t you?
closed your mouth more
tried to be softer
prettier
less volatile, less awake
but even when sleeping you could feel 
him travelling away from you in his dreams
so what did you want to do love
split his head open?
you can’t make homes out of human beings
someone should have already told you that
and if he wants to leave
then let him leave
you are terrifying
and strange and beautiful
something not everyone knows how to love.

- Warsan Shire 

Something we both know will happen/ The Door (more warsan shire)

-

you’re gonna spend the rest of your life going after pretty girls who don’t actually laugh, girls who just open their pretty eyes real wide and say things like ‘wow, you’re really hilarious’. 

it’ll be like a kick in the throat when you try to feed her fruit and she asks ‘are your hands clean babe?’ in that moment you’ll remember me, my name will weigh down your tongue and you’ll excuse yourself to go to the bathroom but you won’t wash your hands.

that night, she will eat from your soiled fingers and you will plough through her roughly, she’ll tell you to ‘slow down’ and you won’t hear her. you will never be the same.

-

-

what will you be wearing
the day your lover leaves you?

i will be wearing my mothers disappointed smile.

-

QUESTIONS FOR THE WOMAN I WAS LAST NIGHT * Warsan Shire

‘it’s not him who’d come across the sea to surprise you, not him who would know where in london to find you’  - feist

how far have you walked for men who’ve never held your feet in their laps?
how often have you bartered with bone, only to sell yourself short?
why do you find the unavailable so alluring? where did it begin? what went wrong? and who made you feel so worthless?
if they wanted you, wouldn’t they have chosen you?
all this time, you were begging for love silently, thinking they couldn’t hear you, but they smelt it on you,  
you must have known that they could taste the desperate on your skin?
and what about the others that would do anything for you, why did you make them love you until you could not stand it?
how are you both of these women, both flighty and needful?
where did you learn this, to want what does not want you?
where did you learn this, to leave those that want to stay? 

Shoulda Been Jimi Savannah * Patricia Smith

Nightsong * Philip Booth