Tag Archives: nostalgic poetry

SATURDAY POETRY SERIES PRESENTS: SUFGANIYOT BY RABBI RACHEL BARENBLAT

A version of this post was previously featured on the Saturday Poetry Series. SUFGANIYOT By Rabbi Rachel Barenblat In oil, pale circles roll and flip, doughy moons inflating. The fun part: poking a finger inside, giving a wiggle and twist, … Continue reading

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SATURDAY POETRY SERIES PRESENTS: THE NEEDS OF THE MANY BY BRENDAN CONSTANTINE

THE NEEDS OF THE MANY by Brendan Constantine On the days when we wept— and they were many—we did it over the sound of a television or radio, or the many engines of the sky. It was rarely so quiet … Continue reading

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SATURDAY POETRY SERIES PRESENTS: MANISHA SHARMA

Millions of girls continue to vanish pre-birth in India simply because they are girls. The following poems imagine these vanished girls. DEAR DAUGHTER In my mind I cradled you in my arms             I didn’t cage you you latched onto my … Continue reading

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SATURDAY POETRY SERIES PRESENTS: A ROSH HASHANAH POEM BY SARAH MARCUS

By Sarah Marcus: ROSH HASHANAH, 5774 The moon was a sliver of itself the first night I thought of you combing a new year’s honey through our hair. We are taught to repent, but it’s a poor translation, for Teshuvah … Continue reading

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SATURDAY POETRY SERIES PRESENTS: A MERMAID POEM

A MAN YOUNG AND OLD:- THE MERMAID By William Butler Yeats A mermaid found a swimming lad, Picked him for her own, Pressed her body to his body, Laughed; and plunging down Forgot in cruel happiness That even lovers drown. … Continue reading

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SATURDAY POETRY SERIES PRESENTS: KADDISH

from KADDISH By Allen Ginsberg Strange now to think of you, gone without corsets & eyes, while I walk on the sunny        pavement of Greenwich Village. downtown Manhattan, clear winter noon, and I’ve been up all night, talking, talking,        reading … Continue reading

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SATURDAY POETRY SERIES PRESENTS: JEN LAMBERT

DINNER FOR THE DYING By Jen Lambert When the boy comes inside with blood on his ripe hands and a quiver of pointed explanations on his back, I’m chopping yellow onions. When he says it’s a doe, that she lies … Continue reading

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