Spring is like a perhaps hand

Transcription

1 Dust of Snow by Robert Frost The way a crow Shook down on me The dust of snow From a hemlock tree Has given my heart A change of mood And saved some part Of a day I had rued.

2 Fall, leaves, fall Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away; Lengthen night and shorten day; Every leaf speaks bliss to me Fluttering from the autumn tree. I shall smile when wreaths of snow Blossom where the rose should grow; I shall sing when night s decay Ushers in a drearier day. - EMILY BRONTË

3 Spring is like a perhaps hand Spring is like a perhaps hand (which comes carefully out of Nowhere)arranging a window, into which people look(while people stare arranging and changing placing carefully there a strange thing and a known thing here)and changing everything carefully spring is like a perhaps Hand in a window (carefully to and fro moving New and Old things,while people stare carefully moving a perhaps fraction of flower here placing an inch of air there)and without breaking anything. - E. E. Cummings

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6 Broken English when my mother struggles to spell a word in english I want to break the entire language into little pieces so the edges of these letters will stop cutting her - Aysha Syed

7 Try to Praise the Mutilated World ADAM ZAGAJEWSKI Try to praise the mutilated world. Remember June's long days, and wild strawberries, drops of rosé wine. The nettles that methodically overgrow the abandoned homesteads of exiles. You must praise the mutilated world. You watched the stylish yachts and ships; one of them had a long trip ahead of it, while salty oblivion awaited others. You've seen the refugees going nowhere, you've heard the executioners sing joyfully. You should praise the mutilated world. Remember the moments when we were together in a white room and the curtain fluttered. Return in thought to the concert where music flared. You gathered acorns in the park in autumn and leaves eddied over the earth's scars. Praise the mutilated world and the gray feather a thrush lost, and the gentle light that strays and vanishes and returns.

8 Burning out its time, and timing its own burning, one lonely candle. - Richard Wright

9 The tactful cactus by your window Surveys the prairie of your room The mobile spins to its collision Clara puts her head between her paws They ve opened shops down West side Will all the cacti find a home But the key to the city Is in the sun that pins the branches to the sky David Bowie

10 Black Magic by Sonia Sanchez magic my man is you turning my body into a thousand smiles. black magic is your touch making me breathe.

11 Home is so Sad Philip Larkin Home is so sad. It stays as it was left, Shaped to the comfort of the last to go As if to win them back. Instead, bereft Of anyone to please, it withers so, Having no heart to put aside the theft And turn again to what it started as, A joyous shot at how things ought to be, Long fallen wide. You can see how it was: Look at the pictures and the cutlery. The music in the piano stool. That vase.

12 You Fit Into Me You fit into me like a hook into an eye a fish hook an open eye - Margaret Atwood

13 Tell all the truth but tell it slant Success in Circuit lies Too bright for our infirm Delight The Truth s superb surprise As Lightning to the Children eased With explanation kind The Truth must dazzle gradually Or every man be blind - Emily Dickinson

14 I Go Down to the Shore I go down to the shore in the morning and depending on the hour the waves are rolling in or moving out, and I say, oh, I am miserable, what shall what should I do? And the sea says in its lovely voice: Excuse me, I have work to do. - Mary Oliver

15 Everybody Tells Me Everything I find it very difficult to enthuse Over the current news. Just when you think that at least the outlook is so black that it can grow no blacker, it worsens, And that is why I do not like the news, because there has never been an era when so many things were going so right for so many of the wrong persons. - Ogden Nash

16 Harlem BY LANGSTON HUGHES What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore And then run? Does it stink like rotten meat? Or crust and sugar over like a syrupy sweet? Maybe it just sags like a heavy load. Or does it explode?

17 O Captain! My Captain! BY WALT WHITMAN O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, The ship has weather d every rack, the prize we sought is won, The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; But O heart! heart! heart! O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead.

18 The Dark If you think of the dark as a black park and the moon as a bounced ball, then there s nothing to be frightened of at all. (Except for aliens ) Carol Ann Duffy

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21 Here Dead We Lie Here dead we lie Because we did not choose To live and shame the land From which we sprung. Life, to be sure, Is nothing much to lose, But young men think it is, And we were young. - A E Housman

22 He tells her that the earth is flat - He knows the facts, and that is that. In altercations fierce and long She tries her best to prove him wrong. But he has learned to argue well. He calls her arguments unsound And often asks her not to yell. She cannot win. He stands his ground. The planet goes on being round. Wendy Cope, He Tells Her from the series Differences of Opinion

23 Unfortunate Coincidence By the time you swear you're his, Shivering and sighing, And he vows his passion is Infinite, undying - Lady, make a note of this: One of you is lying. Dorothy Parker