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Quote by Jack Spicer

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Jack Spicer
Jack Spicer

Jack Spicer was an influential American poet known for his unique poetic style and experimental writing. His works are characterized by complex linguistic games and formal experiments, which have had a profound impact on subsequent poetic creation. more

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“The Last Leaf I saw him once before, As he passed by the door, And again The pavement stones resound, As he totters o'er the ground With his cane. They say that in his prime, Ere the pruning-knife of Time Cut him down, Not a better man was found By the Crier on his round Through the town. But now he walks the streets, And looks at all he meets Sad and wan, And he shakes his feeble head, That it seems as if he said, "They are gone." The mossy marbles rest On the lips that he has prest In their bloom, And the names he loved to hear Have been carved for many a year On the tomb. My grandmamma has said Poor old lady, she is dead Long ago That he had a Roman nose, And his cheek was like a rose In the snow; But now his nose is thin, And it rests upon his chin Like a staff, And a crook is in his back, And a melancholy crack In his laugh. I know it is a sin For me to sit and grin At him here; But the old three-cornered hat, And the breeches, and all that, Are so queer! And if I should live to be The last leaf upon the tree In the spring, Let them smile, as I do now, At the old forsaken bough Where I cling.”

PoemThe Last Leaf
Author:Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr.
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“A Book I Can Put Down I’m halfway through and I’ve gotten used to the way it wants to be read. This writer wants to spoon it up, wants to watch me swallow it. This writer makes a point of good deeds, clean living, god and country, when what I want is sin and shame, the rusty metal edge of cruelty, varieties of pain, his mother still crying years later, just like mine. I want a writer who’s given up on the moral of the story, one who’ll hand me a knife and sit back to see what I do with it. (Published in Anderbo)”

Poem
Author:Antonia Clark
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“تورا من چشم درراهم شباهنگام... تورا من چشم درراهم شباهنگام/ که میگیرند درشاخ "تلاجن" سایه ها رنگ سیاهی/وزان دل خستگانت راست اندوهی فراهم؛/تورامن چشم درراهم/ شباهنگام، درآن دم، که برجا، دره ها چون مرده ماران خفتگان اند؛/درآن نوبت که بندد دست نیلوفر به پای سروکوهی دام،/گرَم یادآوری یانه، من ازیادت نمی کاهم؛/ تورا من چشم درراهم. علی اسفندیاری(نیما یوشیج)”

Poem
Author:نیما یوشیج
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“You can Lose a child Or a parent, The love of your life, A good job, A game, A deal, A bet, An idea, Your favorite thing, Money, Your best friend, A moment, An opportunity, A chance, Your keys, Your mind, Your health, Your identity, Your virginity, Your religion, Your shirt, Your license, ID or Passport, Phone or phone number, Hope, Faith, Luck, Your pride, Or your house, And feel like You've lost everything, And keep on losing. Stop Counting losses And start counting your blessings. Only then, Will you discover that losses Are easier to point out And count Than blessings, And that blessings Outnumber your losses For they are truly Immeasurable. It is only normal that People count losses with Their minds, And ignore To count blessings With the graciousness Of their hearts.”

GratitudePoemLessonsLosingGratefulBlessingsGraciousHeartsSuzy KassemLosses
Book:Rise Up and Salute the Sun: The Writings of Suzy Kassem
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