vintage

Vintage poetry stands the test of time; collections and anthologies of classic poems and enduring verses from eras past.

Arthur Rimbaud: "War" and "Departure" (1886)
War Child, certain weather refined my vision: all its aspects shaded my face. The Phenomena were awakened.—Presently, the eternal modulation of moments and the boundlessness of mathematics chase me through this world, where I undergo all the victories of civil life, respected by strange children with enormous affection. —I long for a war of Might Makes Right, of unforseen logic.
By Tom Baker6 years ago in Poets
Arthur Rimbaud: "H" (1886)
All the enormous, violent and atrocious gestures of Hortense are violated. Her solitude is the mechanism of her eroticism; her lassitude an amorous dynamic. Beneath the watchful eye of the child, there is her, and her summer; in numerous eras, she has been the ardent purifier of races. Her portal is always flung wide for every sorrow. In that place, the morality of the living is released bodily by her passionate acts. Oh—terrible shiver of new loves on the blood-soaked grounds—Find Hortence.
By Tom Baker6 years ago in Poets
Rainbow Sledge
After the fallout of a salty course it was waiting on a shelf and I was by myself. I am waiting for the edge of tomorrow. She came into the picture after having a beautiful eclipse on her face. Lots of interesting drops at a new day.
By Paul Noel Cimino6 years ago in Poets
I Used to Like Parties More
I used to like parties more, but now I'd rather stay at home and just chill... No shocking, startling thrill. There is not much more appealing than reading a book in the coziness of home, or spending time deep in thought, or writing my every notion in a leather journal. Home is where my heart beats best,
By Rowan Finley 6 years ago in Poets
There Goes a Green Torino
I will be here sitting on this pavement on this block in this neighborhood with my legs crossed with a dog with another dog
By Didi Menendez6 years ago in Poets
Ode to My Mojo
Hey Mojo! Where’d you go? I didn’t realize you were gone until I noticed I had lost the spring in my step. I was knocking myself against walls.
By Didi Menendez6 years ago in Poets
The Elephant in the Room
It starts with the bagpipes. The distant sound of horses' hooves, the wind shuffling through the birches. Young men running naked through
By Didi Menendez6 years ago in Poets
Crumbs, Chambers, Castles
The crumbs I stole were not worth the decades I lost in prison, Finally I have risen, From hanging on to those cold bars,
By Rowan Finley 6 years ago in Poets
Sailor's Dream
Old salty dogs, miles of ocean Ship of fools in the wind Have no home but the sea Brave men facing the challenge To meet their destiny
By James Killmer7 years ago in Poets
Because of Emily
I don’t know remember exactly when and how it started. Perhaps it never had a beginning, but had always been a part of my soul. Books had captured my attention since infancy, and stories lived on my tongue from the moment I could string a sentence together. The exact day I began jotting down poems in my school notebooks doesn’t matter. I was only releasing the steady current of words from my mind and watching them trail across the paper as they came to life.
By Rebecca Hale7 years ago in Poets
Tribute
Came upon an Indian layin' Dakota fields of terror Slowly I came to thee Wounded Knee Massacre Smoldering flintlock by his side
By James Killmer7 years ago in Poets
He Held Time in His Own Hand
He held time in his own hand, swinging by a thin chain, all seemed unplanned. The shock when he found out his lot, down in the pit of his stomach he felt a knot.
By Rowan Finley 7 years ago in Poets