share my favourite poems

I don’t even know where I would be able to find anything to give to anyone else.
I slowly handed everything over to you.
all of my secrets,
all of my quiet quirks,
all of the things that I was never able to give as much of as i did to you.
including my guts.
I never dreamed that you wouldn’t take care of them.
and there they are sitting on a table for everyone to see.
and I don’t know how to put them back in the right way.

- "J"

There was a man who would marry his mother, and asked his father for his mother’s hand in marriage, and was told he could
not marry his mother’s hand because it was attached to all
the rest of mother, which was all married to his father; that
he’d have to love something else….

And so he went into the world to love something else, and fell in love with a dining room.
He asked someone standing there, may I have this dining room’s hand in marriage?
You may not, its hand is attached to all the rest of it, which has all been promised to me in connubial alliance, said someone standing there.
Just because the dining room lives in your house doesn’t
necessarily give you claim to its affections….
Yes it does, for a dining room is always to be married to
the heir apparent in the line of succession; after father it’s
my turn; and only if all mankind were destroyed could you succeed any other to the hand of this dining room. You’ll have
to love something else….

And so the man who would marry his mother was again in the world looking for something to love that was not already loved…

- Russell Edson

Dangling,
fragmented,
infinitively,
to have been subjuncted to this
verbiage.

She
pronouns this whole affair,
which is dead,
her adjective view colored, skewed,
declining to hear your preposition
in or around any person
(you or her, I think).

No longer superlative,
this is the worst of loves,
a dead metaphor in the water,
as trite as a simile.

So,
at this conjunction,
your passive voice is ignored.
A tense situation – as it was,
is, and always will be –
no matter what you interject.

Damn!
Things are looking
grammar every day.

- Bruce W Niedt

(will you teach a
wretch to live
straighter than a needle)

ask
her
ask
when
(ask and
ask
and ask
again and)ask a
brittle little
person fiddling
in
the
rain

(did you kiss
a girl with nipples
like pink thimbles)

ask
him
ask
who
(ask and
ask
and ask
ago and)ask a
simple
crazy
thing
singing
in the snow

- e. e. cummings

if you believe nothing is always what’s left
after a while, as I did,
If you believe you have this collection
of ungiven gifts, as I do (right here
behind the silence and the averted eyes)
If you believe an afternoon can collapse
into strange privacies-
how in your backyard, for example,
the shyness of flowers can be suddenly
overwhelming, and in the distance
the clear goddamn of thunder
personal, like a voice,
If you believe there’s no correct response
to death, as I do; that even in grief
(where I’ve sat making plans)
there are small corners of joy
If your body sometimes is a light switch
in a house of insomniacs
If you can feel yourself straining
to be yourself every waking minute
If, as I am, you are almost smiling . . .

-Stephen Dunn