For this special edition with a new design, trim size, and three new spreads, Susan Jeffers has added more detail and subtle color to her sweeping backgrounds of frosty New England scenes. There are more animals to find among the trees, and the kindly figure with his "promises to keep" exudes warmth as he stops to appreciate the quiet delights of winter. The handsome new vellum jacket will attract new and old fans as it evokes a frost-covered windowpane. This celebration of a season makes an ideal holiday gift for a child, a teacher, or a host. Robert Frost (1874-1963) is one of America's most celebrated poets and a four-time winner of the Pulitzer Prize.Susan Jeffers is the illustrator of such distinguished picture books as Three Jovial Huntsmen, a Caldecott Honor Book; Rachel Field's Hitty; and the ABBY Award-winning Brother Eagle, Sister Sky, which was also a New York Times best-seller.

    Thomas' acclaimed translations of Akhmatova's poems. This volume includes "Requiem", her poem of the Stalinist Terror and "Poem Without a Hero".

    Frost scholar Lathem, who was also a close friend of the four-time Pulitzer Prize-winner, scrupulously annotated the 350-plus poems in this collection, which has been the standard edition of Frost's work since it first appeared in 1969.

    And Gyo Fujikawa’s appealing illustrations depict children of all races sweetly interacting, as well as an engagingly rendered menagerie of animals and the natural world in all its wonderment. Among the verses that children will love are Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s “Christmas Bells,” Lewis Carroll’s “The Melancholy Pig,” and Eugene Fields’ “Wynken, Blynken, and Nod,” along with proverbs, limericks, nursery rhymes, and folk songs.

    Of The Dream Songs, A. Alvarez wrote in The Observer, "A major achievement. He has written an elegy on his brilliant generation and, in the process, he has also written an elegy on himself."The Dream Songs are eighteen-line poems in three stanzas. Each individual poem is lyric and organized around an emotion provoked by an everyday event. The tone of the poems is less surreal than associational or intoxicated. The principal character of the song cycle is Henry, who is both the narrator of the poems and referred to by the narrator in the poems.

    D. Wright), often cited as a Nobel contender and one of Europe's most revered poets. On its publication in 1969, it took Denmark by storm, winning critical praise and becoming a huge popular favorite. Translated into many languages, it won international acclaim and is now a classic of modern Scandinavian poetry.it is both a collection of poems and a single poetic epic, forming a philosophical statement on the nature of language, perception, and reality. The subject matter, though, is down to earth: amoebas, stones, and factories; fear, sea urchins, and mental institutions; sand, sexuality, and song. The words and images of it recur in ways reminiscent of Christensen's other works, but here is a younger poetry, wilder, and crackling with energy. The marvelous and complex use of mathematical structure in it is faithfully captured in Susanna Nied's English translation, which won a 2005 PEN Translation Fund Award.

    Around that time Snyder published his translations of Chinese poet Han-Shan’s Cold Mountain Poems in the sixth issue of the “Evergreen Review.” Thus was launched one of the most remarkable literary careers of the last century. It is a great gift for all readers to now have this seminal collection back in print.

    The editing, with excellent notes, excerpts from Brecht's own views about poetry and Mr. Willett's concise introduction is exemplary. Most important, the translations by 35 poets, among them H.R. Hayes, Peter Levi, Christopher Middleton, and Naomi Replansky, maintain a high standard of accuracy and often convey a very clear idea of the texture and feeling of the German." --Stephen Spender, "The New York Times Book Review"

    The revision covers all the poems published in Princeton's earlier bilingual edition, "George Seferis: Collected Poems" (expanded edition, 1981). Winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1963, George Seferis (1900-71) has long been recognized as a major international figure, and Keeley and Sherrard are his ideal translators. They create, in the words of Archibald MacLeish, a "translation worthy of Seferis, which is to praise it as highly as it could be praised."Although Seferis was preoccupied with his tradition as few other poets of the same generation were with theirs, and although he was actively engaged in the immediate political aspirations of his nation, his value for readers lies in what he made of this preoccupation and this engagement in fashioning a broad poetic vision. He is also known for his stylistic purity, which allows no embellishment beyond that necessary for precise yet rich poetic statement.

    These poems explore a more emotional side of Charles Bukowski.

    The poet has said of himself and his work: "I am not an experimentalist or an inventor, but a derivative poet, drawing my art from the resources given by a generation of masters––Stein, Williams, Pound; back of that by the generations of poets that have likewise been dreamers of the Cosmos as Creation and Man as Creative Spirit; and by the work of contemporaries: Zukofsky, Olson, Creeley and Denise Levertov."

    After 25 years, it remains relevant in our own time. As you turn the pages you may say, I remember feeling like that! You may say, I feellike that now. As you look at Arouni's black and white illustrations and read the short but powerful one sentence captions, you feel the predicament of a black child adjusting to the new world of integration of the 1960s. You feel the mix of hope and dismay that characterized the decade. Langston Hughes was a writer who often made his readers ask hard questions about life. In Black Misery he wrote about prejudice and indifference, but he wrote with humor and compassion. Today--just as we did 25 years ago-we smile and even laugh, and we also understand that some things are more thanhard, are more than sad. They are pure misery. Black Misery was the last book that Langston Hughes wrote. He died in May 1967, while working on the manuscript.

    They go back to the late Paleolithic; the fertility of the soil, the magic of animals, the power-vision in solitude, the terrifying intuition and rebirth; the love and ecstasy of the dance, the common work of the tribe." He develops, as replacement for shattered social structures. a concept of tribal tradition which could lead to "growth and enlightenment in self-disciplined freedom. Whatever it is or ever was in any other culture can be reconstructed from the unconscious through meditation...the coming revolution will close the circle and link us in many ways with the most creative aspects of our archaic past.

    It was intended as an 'interim' anthology of poetry for the Leaving Certificate until such time as a more permanent volume could be devised. Twenty six years later it was replaced. In the meantime it had passed through the hands of hundreds of thousands of students in Ireland. Soundings might have been replaced but it was never fully forgotten. Old copies ended up with an individual personality honed out of manual annotations and thoughts, not all of them provided by the teacher. Scrawls in biro or pencil testified to the thoughts and daydreams many users. A surprising number of copies ended up in attics only to be rediscovered with delight many years later and to be given treasured status in new homes. One former student recalled how Soundings was the first school book to treat her as an adult. It made no concessions to the 'teenager'. It didn't patronise. Its imagery was entirely in the poetry. The typography was appalling but the cover design still resonates. A decade after its demise, second hand copies of Soundings were fetching surprising prices. It was widely discussed in chat-rooms on the web. There were increasing demands for a reprint. So here is Soundings, in its original form just as you remember it. The same stony grey soil of Patrick Kavanagh's Monaghan; T.S.Eliot's same women who come and go talking of Michaelangelo. Please enjoy once more!

    The best-selling author of "How to Read a Poem and Fall in Love with Poetry selects and introduces the work of a still-underappreciated 20th century genius.

    His quietly phrased, brief devotions are -described as "miniatures," yet are monumental, capturing the pressure of history upon daily moments. By reducing the world to its small objects, every detail, every image becomes imbued with meaning.This bilingual volume, celebrating the centennial of Jean Follain's birth, is translated by W.S. Merwin, who writes in his introduction: "Follain's concern is finally with the mystery of the present--the mystery which gives the recalled concrete details their form, at once luminous and removed, when they are seen at last in their places, as they seem to be in the best of his poems."

    

    Ninety-five haiku written over two hundred years ago by the Japanese poet Issa.

    It's about Audubon's life as a kind of focus for a lot of things about humans. I hope it's the way life is. It's about his heroic solution of his problems and the problems of being a man."(1) Warren elaborates on what attracted him to Audubon in a later interview with Peter Stitt, saying, "I began to see him as a certain kind of man, a man who has finally learned to accept his fate. The poem is about man and his fate - all along, Audubon resisted his fate and thought it was evil man is supposed to support his family, and so forth. But now he accepts his fate" (Talking p. 244).Critics generally seem to agree that Audubon: A Vision is a watershed moment in Warren's career as a poet. Calvin Bedient goes so far as to say that Warren's "greatness as a writer ... began with Audubon: A Vision."(2) Much of the critical attention has focused on the poem's sources and influences, with a number of critics drawing parallels between the poem and Eudora Welty's portrayal of Audubon in her short story "A Still Moment."(3) But a number of critics have also observed the poem's mythological or archetypal qualities. In an early review, Louis Martz claims that in the poem Warren, "like Aeschylus or Ovid, is re-imagining a myth."(4) Hugh Ruppersburg concurs, stating that the poem "seeks to define Audubon's mythic significance in history and literature."(5) In any case, reviewers and critics alike see the work as the culmination and embodiment of all of Warren's major concerns and themes. ...(Anthony Szczesiul)

    The first book of poems by this Pulitzer Prize-winning poet.Incomplete contentsSaluteFreely EspousingFebruaryA Reunion"The Elizabethans Called It Dying"FabergéA White CityDecemberA Man in BlueSestinaAn AlmanacHudson FerryApril and Its ForsythiaRoof GardenMay 24th or soTodaySorting, wrapping, packing, stuffingSeekingMilkGoingThe Master of the Golden GlowStunPoem (How about an oak leafNow and ThenBuried at Springs

    

    

    

    The drunk man lies on a moonlit hillside looking at a thistle, jaggy and beautiful, which epitomises Scotland's divided self. The man reflects on the fate of the nation, the human condition in general and his own personal fears.

    Free tracking.

    

    

    

    

    

    They are old women dying alone in drafty back bedrooms. If you enter, you have to be quiet-they have important things to say, but you'll need to lean in to hear them. Every word Wong May writes in this, her first collection of poems, is important because she writes as if she has few to spare, as if she's going to die before she gets to the end each of poem. In "Point of View", I imagine just that-longer lines like deeper breaths getting shorter (shallower), two-line stanzas like heart beats getting weaker until the last stanza is erratic: These are transparencies between time & space, Pork-rinds which when held against light Yield to sight pores thru which a pig Once perspired. A pig is on fire! Killing itself at 365 m.p.h., and There will be no Death, I am (I am afraid) FascinatedIn this poem, we are given a pig. As promised in the title, this is a book of animals. This is a book where each poem uses an animal to chew (pigs, dogs, cows, tigers, etc.) and peck (chickens, black birds, etc.) at our sensibilities, where an animal manifests itself as our own sense of fear, where an animal, in a sense, becomes a mascot for our own deaths. Wong May is dying here, figuratively of course, and at her figurative bedside are animals. Some of the few poems where animals are not in attendance are the poems directly written to her mother. Perhaps the animal manifestation in these cases must remain implied. The figurative death in "Dear Mama" is in her own abandonment of her mother in China (presumably to come to the States): By the same token I leave you, I leave myself (with you). The going forth henceforth a grafted green fit to live or die. By the same token I leave you living, dying, or unfit for both, waiting for my return: Your big eyes, short arms that I inherited, failed.In a poem not addressed to her mother, where animals manifest themselves as signifiers of death, an old lady is looking for birthday cards at Kresge, "Bending over/the birthday cards (like/a camel on 3 legs) the old lady//asks me to pick her one/her mouth is chicken-blood fresh". The birthday cards are reminders of our impending fate, and by comparing the old lady to a camel, Wong May manages to convert one our most durable, life-giving animals into one about to collapse into its unavoidable doom. The blood of chickens, one of our most fragile animals, is shed unendingly, but because the blood is fresh, it is full of life and offers a sharp juxtaposition to the images that come just before it.These poems are not Haiku. But, like Haiku, there is so much weight in what is not being said. There is a wordlessness here that is so profound-Wong May is very careful with the words she doesn't include. BGBOA is an experiment perhaps in Haiku that has unraveled itself, has become completely undisciplined, but retains that core minimalism from when it was once tightly wound. Please, Wong May, break my heart at the end of "Apology" with syllables achingly close in count to that of Haiku: You owe me just this: A bundle of dead birds. I won't want it.Please Wong May, in "The American Best Seller", scare the bejeezus from me with your wordlessness: "This is me your murderer calling from Florida at 3:15 sorry to wake you up I'm describing that scene I need your help." Let me think about it I say, and I walk barefoot to the bathroom & wash my faceIn their unraveling from the traditional form, a perfect lack of balance has been found. The bulk of these poems make me incredibly uneasy-particularly because of all that is missing. But also because Wong May sheds a good amount of blood and she has a dirty mouth-it is all really very becoming. She doesn't close the doors that she opens, and worse yet, she opens the doors that are already open, and closes the doors that are already closed. Perhaps these are David Ignatow poems that she has written, that have been pecked at by black birds.But unlike Ignatow, I think, Wong May is much more concerned with where her words are on the page. Her decisions about lineation are essential to the success of the poem. I am in awe with this, partly because my own poems have no dependence on lineation. My words take hold in their own context, not necessarily through positioning. But I've no doubt experimented (maybe to no avail). Wong May's are somehow more beautiful to look at; her poems are to be appreciated with the eyes perhaps-perhaps poems to be read all at once, not from top to bottom. I see the spaces as much as I see the actual words. It is unclear how these poems don't topple over. As I read "Beer" over again, I realize that I do not read "(out of the house", but allow them to float, subconsciously. There is this darkness rising from under the table under The bed I'll give you 3 crumbs if you stop at my breast There it is climbing up my legs. My left arm is numb. Soon the table will be floating (out of the house With us at it Still drinking beerShe allows the darkness to be even more mysterious by shifting our focus to "you" in the second stanza (am I the darkness?). This is where the uneasiness arrives. I am unsure how she feels about me. I am unsure how I feel about her. She makes me question both our roles in this whole mess. At the end of "Ankles": "Leave my ankles//alone you (who have/tossed me on your/knees) said probably//to Death or was it/Death speaking"I've found myself drawn to Wong May's fragile little poems. They deserve more elbow-room in the conversation, and could serve as an appropriate second entry point for any look at Chinese-American poetry, or for that matter, a second entry point for anything that has come out of Iowa 3 or 4 decades ago.--Zachary Schomburg***This I do know about Wong May: She is almost completely undocumented, unphotographed, and unreviewed. She got a BA at the University of Singapore, got her MFA at the University of Iowa in 1968, and wrote three books of poems (Reports [1974] and Superstitions [1978]). In 1978, she curled up into a tiny ball and disappeared.http://www.octopusmagazine.com/Issue0...

    

    

    Translated from the Italian by Margaret Crosland.

    The chapbook was designed and printed by Ron and Graham Macintosh in San Francisco from a typescript made available by Peter Howard.

    

    His poems, reflecting his whole-hearted involvement in all aspects of life, reveal his sense of vocation as both priest and poet, as well as his love of beauty, and his search for a unifying sacramental view of creation. This fully annotated selection offers many of his best-known poems, including The Windhover, Felix Randall, Pied Beauty, Spring and Fall, and Carrion Comfort

    Taking the form of directives, largely absurd, the poems mock communist society’s officialese while offering readers an opportunity to create their own poetics by performing the given directions. The collages on the facing pages to the poems are composed of layered documents, image cutouts, newspaper clippings, announcements, letter fragments, reports, or decontextualized words, oftentimes forming concrete patterns or the outlines of figures, to create a sort of “evidential” report on the events of that year. Text and image taken together, the volume displays Kolář’s enduring interest in extracting poetry from the mundane to demolish the barrier separating art from reality, or even to elevate reality itself through this dual poetics to the level of art. What art historian Arsén Pohribný wrote about Weekly 1968 equally applies to Weekly 1967: it “shocks with its abrupt stylistic twists” and is “a Babylonian, hybrid parable of multi-reality.” The volume also includes the complete Czech text as an appendix.

    The Hungarian literati have for long entertained a myth that the poems of the great lyricist Endre Ady are especially difficult, nay impossible, to translate. This myth is now shattered. Anton N. Nyerges) American diplomat, linguist, poet in his own right, and now professor at Eastern Kentucky University) labored over two decades to prove Endre Ady belongs to the World. He has succeeded in capturing the essence of Endre Ady's poetic genius. With his work the Hungarian Cultural Foundation proudly presents the first comprehensive volume of Endre Ady's poetry in a foreign language.

    He published little until the appearance of Poems of MrJohn Milton, both English and Latin in 1646, when he was 37. Bythis time he was deeply committed to a political vocation, andbecame an articulate and increasingly indispensable spokesman forthe Independent cause. He wrote the crucial justifications for thetrial and execution of Charles I, and, as Secretary for ForeignTongues to the Council of State, was the voice of the English revolution to the world at large. After the failure of the Commonwealth he was briefly imprisoned; blind and in straitened circumstances he returned to poetry, and in 1667 published a ten-book version of Paradise Lost, his biblical epic written, as he put it, after 'long choosing, and beginning late'. In 1671, Paradise Regained and Samson Agonistes appeared, followed two years later by an expanded edition of his shorter poems. The canon was completed in 1674, the year of his death, with the appearance of the twelve-book Paradise Lost, which became a classic almost immediately. His influence on English poetry and criticism has been incalculable.