Poem Catalog

Snippets every day, this is a poetry blog on a mission to steal the art back from and repair the damage done by the Lang Leav and R.M. Drakes of the world. Poetry belongs to the creative, the Sylvia Plaths and the Leonard Cohens. It belongs to the savants.

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She does not wane, but my fortune, Which her rays do not bless, My wayward path declineth soon, But she shines not the less.

Henry David Thoreau, “The Moon”

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Behind the glass of this car The world purrs, shut-off and gentle.

Sylvia Plath, “Berck-Plage” (Ariel)

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The closest I have to a wedding fantasy is this one dream of Sunday drive-up banking.

Natalie Shapero, No Object

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I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness.

Allen Ginsberg, HOWL

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She is a woman who ties scarves quickly as an afterthought.

Sjohnna McCray

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And in the furnace itself As the flames flamed higher, He tried to kiss her burning breasts As she burned in the fire

Leonard Cohen, Let Us Compare Mythologies