Category Archives: Prose Poem

BOOKS: “Startlement” by Ada Limón

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Startlement: New and Selected PoemsStartlement: New and Selected Poems by Ada Limon
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Publisher Site – Milkweed Editions

Release: September 30, 2025

This is a Greatest Hits from six of author’s previous collections, plus twenty-one new poems. The poems are clever, personal, and often whimsical. They range from short to intermediate length and employ varied approaches to free verse poetry (with a few prose poems.)

This was my first time reading Limón’s work, and I enjoyed her poems tremendously. I’d highly recommend this book for poetry readers.

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BOOKS: “Rangikura” by Tayi Tibble

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Rangikura: PoemsRangikura: Poems by Tayi Tibble
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Amazon.in Page

Release Date: April 9, 2024

This collection by New Zealander, Tayi Tibble, consists of free verse and prose poetry of an autobiographical nature (or presented as such.) It is playful in its use of language, especially in its use of slang and Maori language words, as it deals in a broad emotional landscape.

It has bursts of creative brilliance and evocativeness, but also periods where it’s like reading a teenager’s diary.

All in all, I enjoyed the collection and would recommend it for poetry readers.

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BOOKS: “A Year of Last Things” by Michael Ondaatje

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A Year of Last Things: PoemsA Year of Last Things: Poems by Michael Ondaatje
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Amazon.in Page

Release Date: March 19, 2024

This collection consists of free verse and prose poems, largely of an autobiographical nature (or presented as such.) A number of these autobiographical poems are at once travel poems, tales from the author’s visits to various countries.

While Ondaatje is more well-known for his critically acclaimed novels (e.g. “The English Patient” and “Anil’s Ghost,”) he’s not new to the poetic artform. The poems in this volume are clever, readable, nicely paced, and interesting. I enjoyed reading this book and would highly recommend it for poetry readers.

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Be Drunken by Charles Baudelaire [w/ Audio]

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Be always drunken. Nothing else matters: that is the only question. If you would not feel the horrible burden of Time weighing on your shoulders and crushing you to the earth, be drunken continually.

Drunken with what? With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you will. But be drunken.

And if sometimes, on the stairs of a palace, or on the green side of a ditch, or in the dreary solitude of your own room, you should awaken and the drunkenness be half or wholly slipped away from you, ask of the wind, or of the wave, or of the star, or of the bird, or of the clock, or whatever flies, or sighs, or rocks, or sings, or speaks, ask what hour it is; and the wind, wave, star, bird, clock will answer you: “It is the hour to be drunken! Be drunken, if you would not be martyred slaves of Time, be drunken continually! With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you will.”

NOTE: This is the Arthur Symons translation from the 1913 Elkin Mathews edition of Baudelaire’s Poems in Prose. Available via Project Gutenberg at: https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/50489/pg50489-images.html#XI

Dark Realization

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A bad moment for those growing up during the peace years is the realization that there were no peace years.

Border [Prose Poem]

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Three shambling silhouettes stagger through the fog toward the river / border. Will they see before being seen? That is the question. If not, they may hear shots as their bodies are already crumpling, pierced by bullets that out-speed the rifle crack.

Subconscious [Haibun]

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Couriers carry communiques from town to town in the country of me. These secret messages are unprojected, but couriers sometimes sneak peeks. Then, a summary can be read in an expression - a precis that could elsewise not be divined. An expression read from aspect of eye is a hint, and is as reliable as any hint  -- which is to say, not very. A hint is subject to misinterpretation. It presupposes a common language, a lingua franca that doesn't exist because one side has no language and the other is afflicted by the arrogant assumption that all things are understood via language. 

shooting signals
snap through the unmapped
spaces of my mind

POEM: Nom de Guerre

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They called him "the Emperor of Pain," 
the they who didn't know his real name,
 
a name that was comically disjointed to his reputation, 
a name that was to this man 
as that gentle lisping voice is to Mike Tyson,

and so they gave him that ridiculous name,
and he became both more and less 
than what he really was.

POEM: Snowy Street [PoMo Day 14 – Prose Poem]

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I walked a snowy street, quietly as the falling snow, a snow that melted under foot, not one that crunched - compacting. Everything was deadened by that not-so-cold snow, a snow that swallowed sound, a snow that would have shunned light -- had there been any to shun. But it was night, and I was walking in the snow.

POEM: A Round Poem

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I walked beside the river,
the river that rolled through town,
a town I thought had been a dream,
a dream replayed night after night,
nights that flowed like that river,
the river that rolled through town.