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DAVID BITTNER AND THE THÉÂTRE DES VARIÉTÉS: NOSTALGIC JOURNALIST’S QUEST FOR...
Percival Goodman, architect One of our readers, David Bittner, who sometimes posts, in Comments, long, reflective pieces of self-induced musings not necessarily connected to the Scarriet article or...
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A WHITE DUDE PLEADS WITH HIS POLITICALLY CORRECT LOVER
Your political opinions mean nothing to me— Opinions on matters of the state abstractly Blow in the abstract breeze. They matter not—except that they might make you hate me And then they do...
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YOU CANNOT LOVE HER, BUT I CAN
She came from the feminine sea, Like creation emerging from creation, To be loved by an affectionate and useful man, Who, when most useful, pleases her with musical poetry, Chiming with love that...
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WHICH CAME FIRST: STORY OR CRAZY?
Shakespeare: 1. Greatest Storyteller. 2. Poet 3. Taught us storytellers are liars. A number of ideas recently entered my mind, drawn into it by a personal observation. The personal observation is...
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PROFESSIONALS ARE SAD
Professionals are sad. That’s why I fell in love with one. They make the brakes work and the headlights go on. Some make sure the headlines are not too terrifying— The population will go into a panic...
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DYING FROM A SMILE IS THE WORST WAY TO DIE
Dying from a smile is the worst way to die, and I’ll tell you why: No one has ever been killed by a smile, except when love retreats behind it And the smile is the only thing left smiling, and you...
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IN SPRING I SHALL BE OLDER
In spring I shall be older, and in summer, older still. Let me stay here in winter, where I’m young, despite the chill. The love who betrayed me has a birthday in December. When I knew Him, He was...
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THERE IS A LIVING SAPPHO AND IT IS CHUMKI SHARMA
Many scholars have said many things about poems: they are called, variously: epideictic, symbolic, lyrical, epic, intimate, personal, ancient, erotic, moral, psychological, traditional, honorable,...
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THERE IS ONE LOVE LOVELIER THAN YOU
There is one love lovelier than you. She kisses me with a face So beautiful, all ugliness is gone without a trace. She is beautiful and because she is beautiful, true. Beauty is good—not for what it...
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EVENING PIANO
Her hands remember the piano And soon she is remembering her sorrow As he, who is older, smiles without regrets And listens to her music her music forgets. The evening does not see the evening, The...
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I BEGAN WITH EMOTION
I began with emotion And what does emotion know? Emotion is the result Of thinking that is slow, So an anxious mind Has a feeling the world’s unkind— What’s thought killed by what’s felt. And there I...
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THERE ARE LOTS OF THINGS WE LIKE AND ENJOY
There are lots of things we like, and enjoy, But the truth of all we adore is this: what we like Is a brief gift and distracts us from the truth That life is painful and brief, And pleasure dies in...
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THE ONE WE LOVE THE MOST
Blind! Blind! We run to the feast! The one we love the most is the one we know the least. Stems and flowers! Orange flowers and roots in the way And the dark forest blooms in darkness and the darkness...
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HER NAME IS SORROW
For A. Her name is sorrow, which I whisper in fragmentary dreams. Dreams of her are fragmentary when I wake to find my dreams Are dreams; sadly, only dreams— Nothing but fragmentary dreams—dreams of...
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HOT! HOT! HOT! SCARRIET POETRY HOT 100! HAPPY 2016!
BEN MAZER –Simply the best poet writing today. Keeping John Crowe Ransom and Landis Everson alive, too. “all is urgent, just because it gives, and in the mirror, life to life life gives.” CLAUDIA...
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I DIDN’T LOVE
I didn’t love, because things weren’t ready. I didn’t love, because things weren’t there. I had to have an agent and a manager. I had to prepare. Someone said love was simple, Sitting with a poem on...
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THE DAY IS A POEM
The day is a poem. I cannot write one. I’ll tell you why the day is a poem. Okay. So: It has some wind, clouds, rain: a warm January day; It was a warm December, bereft of snow, So this day...
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THOMAS BRADY UNLEASHED
The spirit who guides Scarriet This poem, To ____ was published on Scarriet in April of last year— here read aloud by Thomas Graves. This poem, Beauty Is Wrong, also comes from April, 2015. A reading...
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IF SHE DOESN’T LOVE YOU
If she doesn’t love you, Watch her get old. Time’s her new lover. Time loves her slowly The way she likes. You were too bold. You wrote her poems and proclaimed Your love and felt a love for her like...
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IF YOU DON’T REMEMBER
If you don’t remember How we loved and kissed, Since obviously you were out of your mind, I will tell you—and if there’s any hatred or sadness I’ve missed You can tell me later, if you are still...
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