Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

Best Famous Judith Skillman Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Judith Skillman poems. This is a select list of the best famous Judith Skillman poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Judith Skillman poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of Judith Skillman poems.

Search for the best famous Judith Skillman poems, articles about Judith Skillman poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Judith Skillman poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

See also: Best Member Poems

Go Back

by Judith Skillman |

Tic Douloureux

 The trigger is sensation.

The violin's a dirty animal.

I want you to take away the suddenness.

Pain up the side of my head.

I'll have my teeth extracted one by one.

See if it makes any difference.

Rehearse for the real.

Be either present or absent.

I'll let my fingers drum ebony.

Thinking makes it worse.

I'll take the beat inside myself

and feel it up the center of my body.

A string through my head.

Imagine a hand pierced through the center by a wire.

I won't refer to Jesus or the crucifixion.

No blood in this exercise.

Let the hand move freely up and down this wire.

I'll wipe my nose when the bow

comes toward my face.

My head itches during the Vitali.

Lightning finds a way to enter the earth.

It's a pity music rises and falls.

Hide these bolts in a rock.

Insects carve sand trails as they enter the crab's eyes.

The thing of death is the animal knows when it's happening.

Leave a relic.

Any kind of pain.


by Judith Skillman |

Je Suis

 Poem by Anne-Marie Derése

Je suis le fer rouge
sur l'èpaule du condamnè,
le gibet et la corde,
la hache et le billot,
le fouet et la croix. 
Je suis la dent du lion
dans la chair de la gazelle.
J'ai dans mes veines
le sang de nègriers. 

Bourreau,
j'ai mèritè la faim des loups. 

Les victimes ne m'ont laissè
que leur mort.


by Judith Skillman |

Distress Coils

 Poem by Anne-Marie Derése, translated by Judith Skillman.

The waiting volcano inside us
gnaws, digs, trembles,
weighs its chances. 
Distress coils up,
shrinks silent like a sick beast.
We are unrecognizable,
unique
in the certainty of our ferocity.


by Judith Skillman |

La dètresse senroule

 Poem by Anne-Marie Derése.

Le volcan en attente au fond de nous
ronge, creuse, tremble,
soupése ses chances. 
La dètresse s'enroule,
se tasse comme une b?te malade.
Nous sommes mèconnaissables,
uniques,
avec la certitude de notre fèrocitè.


by Judith Skillman |

Youve given me a weapon

 Poem by Anne-Marie Derése, translated by Judith Skillman.

You've given me a weapon.
you've flung your words
into the human herd
like stones.
The wounds were
good to lick.
You have woken the tiger. 
You've given as one takes.


by Judith Skillman |

Tu mas donnè une arme

 Poem by Anne-Marie Derése.

Tu m'as donnè une arme
Dans le troupeau humain,
tu as lancè tes mots
commes des pierres.
Les blessures furent
bonnes lècher.
Tu as rèveillè le feulement. 
Tu t'es donnè comme on prend.


by Judith Skillman |

Forgive Me

 Poem by Anne-Marie Derése, translated by Judith Skillman.

Forgive me if I have laughed
in your chapels,
forgive me if I have slammed
the hospital door,
forgive me for the noise,
for life,
for the love to which
I have no right. 
Forgive me for not resembling you.


by Judith Skillman |

Pardon

 Poem by Anne-Marie Derése.

Pardon si j'ai ri
dans vos chapelles,
pardon si j'ai claquè
la porte de l'h?pital,
pardon pour le bruit,
pour la vie,
pour l'amour auquel
je n'avais pas droit. 
Pardon de ne pas vous ressembler.


by Judith Skillman |

Night Opens to the Storm

 Poem by Anne-Marie Derése, translated by Judith Skillman.

Night opens to the storm,
a mauve coupling,
swollen. 
The sky, laden
like a merchant ship,
throws off its anchor.
Danger, heavier
each instant,
exudes the mugginess
of a greenhouse. 

Shimmering like mercury
The Valley of the Seven Muses
breathes mist
through its gray nostrils. 

The valley of has rejoined the night,
two humid females
the storm penetrates. 

And I, standing here
in the anxious wind,
I wait for the tearing apart.


by Judith Skillman |

La nuit souvre lorage

 Poem by Anne-Marie Derése

La nuit s'ouvre, l'orage,
accouplement mauve,
boursouflure. 
Le ciel chargè
comme un bateau marchand
jette l'ancre.
Le danger plus lourd
chaque instant
distille une moiteur
de serre. 

Miroitante de mercure,
la vallèe des sept Meuses
souffle la brume
par ses narines grises. 

La vallèe a rejoint la nuit,
deux femelles humides
que l'orage pènétre. 

Et moi, debout,
dans le vent anxieux,
j'espére la dèchirure.