Poetic Medicine

By Sappho If you are squeamish Don't prod the beach rubble.

By Kahlil Gibran Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself. They come throug...

By Pete Seeger To Everything (Turn, Turn, Turn) There is a season (Turn, Turn, Turn) And a time to every purpose, under Heaven A time ...

By Elizabeth Alexander  watched him glitter,   watched him gleam, shook his un-rough hands with their cotton-scarred hands, cut their eye...

By Karen S hragg Soak up the sun Affirm life's magic Be graceful in the wind Stand tall after a storm Feel refreshed a...

By April Salzano At first, I think nothing of eating the chips that came home from my kids’ weekend with their father. I shove my hand in t...

By Gwendolyn Brooks A riot is the language of the unheard. —Martin Luther King John Cabot, out of Wilma, once a Wycliffe, all whiteblu...

By Andrea Witzke-Slot Seeds  Yesterday I wanted to plant flowers. No. I wanted to plant seeds. The ground was cold and hard. A jackh...

By C. P. Cavafy Honor to those who in the life they lead define and guard a Thermopylae. Never betraying what is right, consistent and ...

By Lily Myers Across from me at the kitchen table, my mother smiles over red wine that she drinks out of a measuring glass. She says she...

By Amiri Baraka (for Basil) Luxury, then, is a way of being ignorant, comfortably An approa...

By Marie Howe Johnny, the kitchen sink has been clogged for days, some utensil probably fell down there. And the Drano won't work but...

By Emily Brontë The night is darkening round me, The wild winds coldly blow; But a tyrant spell has bound me And I cannot, cannot go. ...

By Mary Oliver Cold now. Close to the edge. Almost unbearable. Clouds bunch up and boil down from the north of the white bear. This t...

By Adam Cole It's the week after Christmas, and in every town You'll see Christmas trees dying — their needles turned brown. 30 ...

By Robert Frost Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his...

By Coleman Barks Fiesta Bowl on low. My son lying here on the couch on the "Dad" pillow he made for me in the Seventh Grade. ...

By Gwendolyn Brooks Blackness is a a title, is a preoccupation, is a commitment Blacks are to comprehend— and in which you are to pe...

By Afaa Michael Weaver  The survey says all groups can make more money  if they lose weight except black men...men of other colors  and ...

By Marge Piercy We sat across the table. he said, cut off your hands. they are always poking at things. they might touch me. I said ye...