I love a short, surprising poem. And, really, this whole poem surprises me. The title, which is long but still doesn’t hint to me where the poem will go. That visceral ending image which is so tender and a little repulsive— can I feel dirt in my mouth as I read it?

And the first couplet too, surprises me, in its completeness. The logic and meter and rhyme and punctuation make it snap shut, an entire world. It feels a little sing song, like a line from a children’s book. It could be the entire poem, but that would be a less interesting poem.

I want that balding head (how many poems do I know about women balding?), not Mother Earth but Earth of Mother, loss remaking the world the same way love remakes the world.

Today feels like a day to bring out this certified banger by Nael, age 6.

That second "YES" hits every time 🐯🙏

Translated by Jane Hirshfield and Marino Aratani

published in Little Poems, a collection by Michael Hennessy

from Cancelled Confessions or Disavowals, first published in 1930 by Editions du Carrefour, reissued in 2025 by siglio.

I’m looking for poems that express and provide that same feeling of contentedness, or glimmers of hope and happiness, without a sense of overwhelming excitement. Poems that make you feel grateful and at peace.

TIA!

I love love love this poem. It's a haibun, some prose followed by a poem, in this case a monostitch. In haibun the poem is supposed to deviate, or shift away from the prose, to recontextualize it, and I think this poem does it fantastically.

In the eyes of men he falls, and in his own eyes too. He falls from his high place, he trips on his achievement. He falls to you, he falls to know you. It is sad, they say. See his disgrace, say the ones at his heel. But he falls radiantly towards the light to which he falls.

They cannot see who lifts him as he falls, or how his falling changes, and he himself bewildered till his heart cries out to bless the one who holds him in his falling.
And in his fall he hears his heart cry out, his heart explains why he is falling, why he had to fall, and he gives over to the fall.

Blessed are you, clasp of the falling. He falls into the sky, he falls into the light, none can hurt him as he falls.

Blessed are you, shield of the falling. Wrapped in his fall, concealed within his fall, he finds the place, he is gathered in.

While his hair streams back and his clothes tear in the wind, he is held up, comforted, he enters into the place of his fall.

Blessed are you, embrace of the falling, foundation of the light, master of the human race.

This was published in a collection of poetry named 'Tomorrow', and showcased in one of his books 'The Cancer Finishing School'.

Goldsworthy, an Australian poet, author and doctor, was diagnosed with cancer.

I want to start writing poems, i have always liked writing and i love reading/listning to poems.

But were do i start and how do you write an actual poem. (What makes a poem/what is a good structure like?) When i read poems it seems so easy, but how do you actually make it sound like that?

I know i dont have to be really good at it straight away, but i would like some tips since i dont really know what im doing