all the time I pray to Buddha
a
Similar Poems:
For Tupac Amaru Shakur by Sonia Sanchez
![Sonia Sanchez](/storage/poets/resize/500x500_MaTHNWCnMt5WoOHmAJSmMxpZ2h97l6VkJwie8Z32.jpeg)
who goes there? who is this young man born lonely?
who walks there? who goes toward death
whistling through the water
without his chorus? without his posse? without his song?
it is autumn now
in me autumn grieves
in this carved gold of shifting faces
my eyes confess to the fatigue of living.
Read Poem who walks there? who goes toward death
whistling through the water
without his chorus? without his posse? without his song?
it is autumn now
in me autumn grieves
in this carved gold of shifting faces
my eyes confess to the fatigue of living.
0
Sonnet for Angelo Monterosa by Jack Agüeros
![Jack Agüeros](/storage/poets/resize/500x500_e83115ec16423a72d3f8c0960c849b8d.jpg)
Monterosa, your body is dead on Avenue A. Angelo,
They found you eyes open staring at the beer
Soaked floorboards. Did you want that? Did
You mind them filling your back with buckshot?
Angelo, I am angry with them all, and you Monterosa
Killed and killers, killing and dealing dope. No good
You were, no good they are. Still, I wish their fate
To be bodies stacking under the same blue smoke.
Read Poem They found you eyes open staring at the beer
Soaked floorboards. Did you want that? Did
You mind them filling your back with buckshot?
Angelo, I am angry with them all, and you Monterosa
Killed and killers, killing and dealing dope. No good
You were, no good they are. Still, I wish their fate
To be bodies stacking under the same blue smoke.
0
Love Poem by Dorothea Grossman
![Dorothea Grossman](/storage/poets/resize/500x500_hV0zbjgLzzz6ouKGRYJvgBBko0F1ERuSzltMQa5j.jpeg)
In a lightning bolt
of memory,
I see our statue of Buddha
(a wedding gift from Uncle Gene)
which always sat
on top of the speaker cabinet.
When a visitor asked,
“So, does Buddha like jazz?”
you said, “I hope so.
He’s been getting it up the ass
for a long time.”
Read Poem of memory,
I see our statue of Buddha
(a wedding gift from Uncle Gene)
which always sat
on top of the speaker cabinet.
When a visitor asked,
“So, does Buddha like jazz?”
you said, “I hope so.
He’s been getting it up the ass
for a long time.”
0
Coming and Going by Pierre Martory
![Pierre Martory](/storage/poets/resize/500x500_poet-image.jpeg)
As long as you believe in miracles
You watch the sun fall into the sea
Every evening
Then you turn your back and sink
Among the ferns sparkling from a moon or from the other
Read Poem You watch the sun fall into the sea
Every evening
Then you turn your back and sink
Among the ferns sparkling from a moon or from the other
0
What horror to awake at night by Lorine Niedecker
![Lorine Niedecker](/storage/poets/resize/500x500_vV6RQHfawESejRPEkDMa3n771mB1EtU3MDfhyk9k.jpeg)
What horror to awake at night
and in the dimness see the light.
Time is white
mosquitoes bite
I’ve spent my life on nothing.
The thought that stings. How are you, Nothing,
sitting around with Something’s wife.
Buzz and burn
Read Poem and in the dimness see the light.
Time is white
mosquitoes bite
I’ve spent my life on nothing.
The thought that stings. How are you, Nothing,
sitting around with Something’s wife.
Buzz and burn
0
Detroit, Tomorrow by Philip Levine
![Philip Levine](/storage/poets/resize/500x500_rIKNQLSz2ELbPKtkYPCH8FelonWo4QanmDEfaEYA.jpeg)
Newspaper says the boy killed by someone,
don’t say who. I know the mother, waking,
gets up as usual, washes her face
in cold water, and starts the coffee pot.
She stands by the window up there on floor
sixteen wondering why the street’s so calm
with no cars going or coming, and then
she looks at the wall clock and sees the time.
Read Poem don’t say who. I know the mother, waking,
gets up as usual, washes her face
in cold water, and starts the coffee pot.
She stands by the window up there on floor
sixteen wondering why the street’s so calm
with no cars going or coming, and then
she looks at the wall clock and sees the time.
0
Dialog Outside the Lakeside Grocery by Ishmael Reed
![Ishmael Reed](/storage/poets/resize/500x500_BDcJDldVdUfXOESt0zgGBLSxIRwCJ4CofHp9zWed.jpeg)
The grocery had provided him with
boxes of rotten lettuce
He was loading them onto a
yellow pick-up truck
He was a frail white man and
wore a plaid woolen shirt and
frayed dungarees
I was sitting in a gray chevrolet
Read Poem boxes of rotten lettuce
He was loading them onto a
yellow pick-up truck
He was a frail white man and
wore a plaid woolen shirt and
frayed dungarees
I was sitting in a gray chevrolet
0
The Penitent by Edna St. Vincent Millay
![Edna St. Vincent Millay](/storage/poets/resize/500x500_syNdFhxJU0IoEbxTCewZpQbrX1tGZQ2kE4hc2Gzx.jpeg)
I had a little Sorrow,
Born of a little Sin,
I found a room all damp with gloom
And shut us all within;
And, "Little Sorrow, weep," said I,
"And, Little Sin, pray God to die,
And I upon the floor will lie
And think how bad I've been!"
Read Poem Born of a little Sin,
I found a room all damp with gloom
And shut us all within;
And, "Little Sorrow, weep," said I,
"And, Little Sin, pray God to die,
And I upon the floor will lie
And think how bad I've been!"
0
Comment form: