Author: Ian Trimnell

A SPACE INVITATION. By P.J. LE SUEUR I have fifteen heads and sixteen legs And come from Outer Space, To answer an invitation from The noble human race. I was circling round the moons of Bree In the galaxy of Greer, When a faint transmission came from Earth: It said, ”Wish you were here.” It’s taken...

Good evening, everyone.  Welcome to our prayer time this evening. Tonight we begin by reading Psalm 19. 1 The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands. 2 Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they reveal knowledge. 3 They have no speech, they use no words; no sound is...

FAMOUS by Naomi Shihab Nye The river is famous to the fish. The loud voice is famous to silence, which knew it would inherit the earth before anybody said so. The cat sleeping on the fence is famous to the birds watching him from the birdhouse. The tear is famous, briefly, to the cheek. The idea...

KEEPING THINGS WHOLE by Mark Strand In a field I am the absence of field. This is always the case. Wherever I am I am what is missing. When I walk I part the air and always the air moves in to fill the spaces where my body’s been. We all have reasons for moving. I...

NOTHING TWICE by Wislawa Szymborska Nothing can ever happen twice. In consequence, the sorry fact is that we arrive here improvised and leave without the chance to practice. Even if there is no one dumber, if you’re the planet’s biggest dunce, you can’t repeat the class in summer: this course is only offered once. No day...

HAPYNESS by Carl Sandburg I asked the professors who teach the meaning of life to tell me what is happiness. And I went to famous executives who boss the work of thousands of men. They all shook their heads and gave me a smile as though I was trying to fool with them And then one Sunday...

WITNESS: INCOMMUNICADO by Denise Levertov They speak of bonding. Of the infant, the primitive without sense of boundary, everything as much or as little as itself. Yet what loneliness the solitude of thought before language. A kind of darkness stirring the mind, blurring the glare and the glitter of vision, steam on the white mirror. Good...

YOUNG POETS by Nicanor Parra Write as you will In whatever style you like Too much blood has run under the bridge To go on believing That only one road is right. In poetry everything is permitted. With only this condition of course, You have to improve the blank page. Good morning and welcome to Morning...

I walked past a house where I lived once by Yehuda Amichai I walked past a house where I lived once: a man and a woman are still together in the whispers there. Many years have passed with the quiet hum of the staircase bulb going on and off and on again. The keyholes are like...

GATE C22 by Ellen Bass At gate C22 in the Portland airport a man in a broad-band leather hat kissed a woman arriving from Orange County. They kissed and kissed and kissed. Long after the other passengers clicked the handles of their carry-ons and wheeled briskly toward short-term parking, the couple stood there, arms wrapped around...

AFTER YEARS by Ted Kooser Today, from a distance, I saw you walking away, and without a sound the glittering face of a glacier slid into the sea. An ancient oak fell in the Cumberlands, holding only a handful of leaves, and an old woman scattering corn to her chickens looked up for an instant. At...

THE ABDUCTION by Stanley Kunitz Some things I do not profess to understand, perhaps not wanting to, including whatever it was they did with you or you with them that timeless summer day when you stumbled out of the wood, distracted, with your white blouse torn and a bloodstain on your skirt. “Do you believe?” you...

GET ORGANISED! by Douglas Malloch There may be nothing wrong with you, The way you live, the work you do, But I can very plainly see, Exactly what is wrong with me. It isn’t that I’m indolent, Or dodging duty by intent; I work as hard as anyone, And yet I get so little done. The...

GLORIOUS WORLD by Herman Hesse I feel it again and again, no matter Whether I am old or young: A mountain range in the night, On the balcony a silent woman, A white street in the moonlight curving gently away That tears my heart with  longing out of my body. Oh burning world, oh white woman...