Selected Introductory Poems

7/29/2019 Selected Introductory Poems

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One Artby Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn't hard to master;so many things seem filled with theintentto be lost that their loss is no disaster,

Lose something every day. Accept theflusterof lost door keys, the hour badly spent.The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losingfaster:places, and names, and where it was youmeantto travel. None of these will bring

disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! mylast, ornext-to-last, of three beloved houseswent.The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,some realms I owned, two rivers, acontinent.

I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

-- Even losing you (the joking voice, agestureI love) I shan't have lied. It's evidentthe art of losing's not too hard to masterthough it may look like (Write it!) adisaster.

Dreamsby Langston Hughes

Hold fast to dreamsFor if dreams dieLife is a broken-winged birdThat cannot fly.Hold fast to dreamsFor when dreams goLife is a barren fieldFrozen with snow.

Povertyby Pablo Neruda

Ah you don't want to,you're scaredof poverty,you don't wantto go to the market with worn-out shoesand come back with the same old dress.

My love, we are not fondas the rich would like us to be,of misery. We

shall extract it like an evil tooththat up to now has bitten the heart ofman.

But I don't wantyou to fear it.If through my fault it comes to yourdwelling,if poverty drives awayyour golden shoes,let it not drive away your laughter which

is my life's bread.If you can't pay the rent

go off to work with a proud step,and remember, my love, that I amwatching youand together we are the greatestwealththat was ever gathered upon the earth.

Phenomenal Womanby Maya Angelou

Pretty women wonder where my secretlies.I'm not cute or built to suit a fashionmodel's sizeBut when I start to tell them,They think I'm telling lies.I say,

It's in the reach of my armsThe span of my hips,The stride of my step,The curl of my lips.I'm a womanPhenomenally.Phenomenal woman,That's me.

I walk into a roomJust as cool as you please,

And to a man,The fellows stand orFall down on their knees.Then they swarm around me,A hive of honey bees.I say,It's the fire in my eyes,And the flash of my teeth,The swing in my waist,And the joy in my feet.I'm a woman

Phenomenally.Phenomenal woman,
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That's me.

Men themselves have wonderedWhat they see in me.They try so muchBut they can't touchMy inner mystery.When I try to show themThey say they still can't see.I say,It's in the arch of my back,The sun of my smile,The ride of my breasts,The grace of my style.I'm a woman

Phenomenally.Phenomenal woman,

That's me.

Now you understandJust why my head's not bowed.I don't shout or jump aboutOr have to talk real loud.When you see me passingIt ought to make you proud.I say,It's in the click of my heels,The bend of my hair,

the palm of my hand,The need of my care,'Cause I'm a womanPhenomenally.Phenomenal woman,That's me.

One Inch TallShell Silverstein

If you were only one inch tall, you'd ride

a worm to school.The teardrop of a crying ant would be

your swimming pool.A crumb of cake would be a feastAnd last you seven days at least,A flea would be a frightening beastIf you were one inch tall.

If you were only one inch tall, you'd walkbeneath the door,And it would take about a month to getdown to the store.A bit of fluff would be your bed,You'd swing upon a spider's thread,And wear a thimble on your headIf you were one inch tall.

You'd surf across the kitchen sink upon astick of gum.You couldn't hug your mama, you'd just

have to hug her thumb.You'd run from people's feet in fright,To move a pen would take all night,(This poem took fourteen years to write--'Cause I'm just one inch tall).

Still I Rise

Maya Angelou

You may write me down in historyWith your bitter, twisted lies,You may trod me in the very dirtBut still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?Why are you beset with gloom?'Cause I walk like I've got oil wellsPumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,With the certainty of tides,Just like hopes springing high,Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?Bowed head and lowered eyes?Shoulders falling down like teardrops.

Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?Don't you take it awful hard'Cause I laugh like I've got gold minesDiggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,You may cut me with your eyes,You may kill me with your hatefulness,But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?Does it come as a surpriseThat I dance like I've got diamondsAt the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shameI riseUp from a past that's rooted in painI riseI'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,

Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
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I riseInto a daybreak that's wondrously clearI riseBringing the gifts that my ancestorsgave,I am the dream and the hope of theslave.I riseI riseI rise.

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Selected Introductory Poems