Poems begining by I
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It does not matter in what language one writes
© Carlos Barbarito
It does not matter in what language one writes.
All language is foreign, incomprehensible.
Every word, as soon as pronounced,
flees far away, where nothing or nobody can reach it.
« I'm A Jazz Singer, » She Replied
© James A. Emanuel
He dug what she said:
bright jellies, smooth marmalade
spread on warm brown bread.
Into the Dusk-Charged Air
© John Ashbery
Birds circle the Ticino. In winter
The Var was dark blue, unfrozen. The
Thwaite, cold, is choked with sandy ice;
The Ardèche glistens feebly through the freezing rain.
Incendiary
© Vernon Scannell
That one small boy with a face like pallid cheese
And burnt-out little eyes could make a blaze
As brazen, fierce and huge, as red and gold
And zany yellow as the one that spoiled
Imagining youd come to say goodbye...
© Jennifer Reeser
Imagining youd come to say goodbye,
I made a doll of raffia and string.
I gave her thatch hair, and a broomstick skirt
of patchwork satin rags. Around each eye
I, or Someone Like Me
© Marvin Bell
In a wilderness, in some orchestral swing
through trees, with a wind playing all the high notes,
and the prospect of a string bass inside the wood,
I, or someone like me, had a kind of vision.
It Rained The Day They Buried Tito Puente
© Emanuel Xavier
The next morning
I heard the crow crowing, Oye Como Va
his song was the sunlight in my universe
& I could feel Titos smile
shining down on me
