Section: «Poems»
Verse (ancient Greek ὁ στίχος — row, structure), a term in versification used in several meanings:
artistic speech organized by division into rhythmically commensurate segments; poetry in the narrow sense; in particular, it implies the properties of versification of a particular tradition ("antique verse", "Akhmatova's verse", etc.);
a line of poetic text organized according to a certain rhythmic pattern ("My uncle of the most honest rules").
Death of a Young Son by Drowning
He, who navigated with successthe dangerous river of his own birthonce more set forthon a voyage of discoveryinto the land I floated onbut could not..
© Margaret Atwood
February
Winter. Time to eat fatand watch hockey. In the pewter mornings, the cat,a black fur sausage with yellowHoudini eyes, jumps up on the bed and triesto..
© Margaret Atwood
Provisions
What should we have takenwith us? We never could decideon that; or what to wear,or at what time ofyear we should make the journeySo here we are in..
© Margaret Atwood
Backdropp Addresses Cowboy
Starspangled cowboysauntering out of the almost-silly West, on your facea porcelain grin,tugging a papier-mache cactuson wheels behind you with a..
© Margaret Atwood
The Rest
The rest of us watch from beyond the fenceas the woman moves with her jagged strideinto her pain as if into a slow race.We see her body in motionbut..
© Margaret Atwood
Postcards
I'm thinking about you. What else can I say?The palm trees on the reverseare a delusion; so is the pink sand.What we have are the usualfractured coke..
© Margaret Atwood
A Visit
Gone are the dayswhen you could walk on water.When you could walk.The days are gone.Only one day remains,the one you're in.The memory is no friend.It..
© Margaret Atwood
Sekhmet, The Lion-Headed Goddess Of War
He was the sort of manwho wouldn't hurt a fly.Many flies are now alivewhile he is not.He was not my patron.He preferred full granaries, I battle.My..
© Margaret Atwood
In The Secular Night
In the secular night you wander aroundalone in your house. It's two-thirty.Everyone has deserted you,or this is your story;you remember it from being..
© Margaret Atwood
Night Poem
There is nothing to be afraid of,it is only the windchanging to the east, it is onlyyour father the thunderyour mother the rainIn this country of..
© Margaret Atwood
The Shadow Voice
My shadow said to me:what is the matterIsn't the moon warmenough for youwhy do you needthe blanket of another bodyWhose kiss is mossAround the picnic..
© Margaret Atwood
Spelling
My daughter plays on the floorwith plastic letters,red, blue & hard yellow,learning how to spell,spelling,how to make spells.I wonder how many..
© Margaret Atwood
Morning In The Burned House
In the burned house I am eating breakfast.You understand: there is no house, there is no breakfast,yet here I am.The spoon which was melted scrapes..
© Margaret Atwood
Variation On The Word Sleep
I would like to watch you sleeping,which may not happen.I would like to watch you,sleeping. I would like to sleepwith you, to enteryour sleep as its..
© Margaret Atwood
The Landlady
This is the lair of the landladyShe isa raw voiceloose in the rooms beneath me.the continuous henyardsquabble going on belowthought in this house..
© Margaret Atwood
Bored
All those times I was boredout of my mind. Holding the logwhile he sawed it. Holdingthe string while he measured, boards,distances between things, or..
© Margaret Atwood
The City Planners
Cruising these residential Sundaystreets in dry August sunlight:what offends us isthe sanities:the houses in pedantic rows, the plantedsanitary..
© Margaret Atwood
Siren Song
This is the one song everyonewould like to learn: the songthat is irresistible:the song that forces mento leap overboard in squadronseven though they..
© Margaret Atwood
More And More
More and more frequently the edgesof me dissolve and I becomea wish to assimilate the world, includingyou, if possible through the skinlike a cool..
© Margaret Atwood
Habitation
Marriage is nota house or even a tentit is before that, and colder:the edge of the forest, the edgeof the desertthe unpainted stairsat the back where..
© Margaret Atwood
Flying Inside Your Own Body
Your lungs fill & spread themselves,wings of pink blood, and your bonesempty themselves and become hollow.When you breathe in you’ll lift like a..
© Margaret Atwood
Variations On The Word Love
This is a word we use to plugholes with. It's the right size for those warmblanks in speech, for those red heart-shaped vacancies on the page that..
© Margaret Atwood
This Is A Photograph Of Me
It was taken some time agoAt first it seems to bea smearedprint: blurred lines and grey flecksblended with the paper;then, as you scanit, you can see..
© Margaret Atwood
Helen Of Troy Does Countertop Dancing
The world is full of womenwho'd tell me I should be ashamed of myselfif they had the chance. Quit dancing.Get some self-respectand a day job.Right...
© Margaret Atwood
Is/Not
Love is not a professiongenteel or otherwisesex is not dentistrythe slick filling of aches and cavitiesyou are not my doctoryou are not my..
© Margaret Atwood