Example poetry

In Their Words: Ithaca Share Their Works for Poetry Month | Books

Last month was National Poetry Month, and to honor the medium, three published Ithacans sent poems to The Ithaca Times to share with the community.

Dream body

In my country if you wake up, snatch

from the half-done dream, you ring

the alarm, there is a pull near each bed

(in my country) and soon their cars

flashing green in the night, friends are coming,

because they know that I would do it for them,

come and help me to enter the dream.

They build the whole – I’m sitting – a bridge,

killing shadows below, all these

they paint, high steps, a pub. From a truck

they unroll mirrors, chests, dress a boy

in Elizabethan street costume, teach him

pour beer. In the dark my friends

tap yourself, practice their lines, and

whisper to me “tell us where to place ourselves,

tell us what to say.” “You are the director,”

say my friends. It’s important to them

that I dream, that I dream in my country.

-Roald Hoffman is a published poet and author and professor at Cornell University

But here’s the thing

I sometimes feel like diving into the trash just to feel how bad things can get. I think pain could be my friend, if I let it. If I let him deflect the other. The other pain. The unnamable one. Deviation is what doctors call one pain replacing another, like those who have to cut themselves to not feel the pain in their heart. Or maybe I’m thinking of referred pain, pain you feel in one part of your body caused by an injury to another. It’s like when you go to a job interview because someone referred you to them and maybe they like you for it, but maybe they don’t. Maybe they’ve already chosen someone but need to interview you to appease the person who referred you to them, so you’re just taking time out of their day, the man with the round head and small eyes sipping his fifth cup. He has to be there when he could be doing his crosswords or kicking Debbie in accounting. Who wants to be interviewed by someone who’d rather toy with Debbie in accounting? And you can bet all the dead leaves that fall from the trees in the fall that she doesn’t even like him – thinks he’s a bad guy. It’s a slap in the face for you and Debbie. But the truth is… I’ve always loved that phrase, but the truth is. Almost as much as but here’s the thing. When I hear someone say but here’s the thing, it makes me think it’s gonna be okay, because they know what this thing is, whatever it is.

-Cory Brown teaches writing at Ithaca College and studied poetry writing at Cornell University

Beyond modernity, we are warned

by signs in two languages ​​that say

the same thing differently. In the yellow

wood where two roads diverge, we choose

both, not out of arrogance but out of

indecision, which like riding

two horses at a time, takes a long time

legs, strong thighs and good carelessness

nature. The world goes by, every leaf

magnified, as we taste this new bar

soap, that breakfast sandwich. signs in

two languages ​​praise soft drinks and party

Politics. The world scrolls and bites

of speech escape their diagrams to soar

in the yellow wood. It’s late and soon

the world will be different.

-Nancy Vieira Couto is a published poet and author

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