優(yōu)秀經(jīng)典英語(yǔ)詩(shī)歌大全
優(yōu)秀經(jīng)典英語(yǔ)詩(shī)歌大全
英語(yǔ)詩(shī)歌是一個(gè)包含豐富社會(huì)生活內(nèi)容、語(yǔ)言藝術(shù)和文化內(nèi)涵的世界,是基礎(chǔ)英語(yǔ)教學(xué)的一塊很有潛力的教學(xué)資源。小編精心收集了優(yōu)秀經(jīng)典英語(yǔ)詩(shī)歌，供大家欣賞學(xué)習(xí)!
優(yōu)秀經(jīng)典英語(yǔ)詩(shī)歌：The Doubles
Kara van de Graaf
In the dressing room at Macy's,
I run into all my old bodies.
We are reunited when I hear them
shuffling in the walls, sense them
beneath the dirty carpet. Their hips
lurching out of drywall. Their breasts
swelling against the concrete floor.
I congratulate one on her thin legs.
We commiserate about side-boob.
We try on dresses from the junior's section
and laugh. Relive our proms, our red-haired
date who cried the whole night
about that other girl. We kiss. Arm-wrestle.
Bitch-slap. Wish we were never born.
When we part we look at each other longingly,
doe-eyed. The way two mirrors,
when you put them opposite, reflect
each other forever and ever.
優(yōu)秀經(jīng)典英語(yǔ)詩(shī)歌：The Names of the Trees
Laura Kasischke
I passed this place once long ago
when a man lived here with his four
daughters, peacefully, it seemed. Those
daughters took turns washing
dishes, doing laundry. Frothy pearls and
feathers in a sink. Soft
socks, warm towels, folded, clean, in
closets, drawers, and baskets, and
on shelves. To me
this was astonishing. The laundry
done by daughters! No
mother in the house at all. A weeping
willow grew in their back-
yard, but it was not a symbol then.
It could not have been
because this was the only tree
I knew the name of yet -- unless it was a tree
that bore familiar fruit. Like
an apple tree, a mulberry. This
willow's branches did not seem to be
branches at all to me, but
ribbons dangling loosely, tangling
girlishly. If there was any weeping, it
was inaudible to me. (Was
I supposed to see it?) One
of the daughters was only
a year ahead of me, and she
invited me (once) inside because
she wanted to play house with me. When
I confessed I wasn't sure what playing
house might mean, this girl
said she would teach me.
She was Mother for this reason.
I was the family dog. She
told me to eat Froot Loops
from a bowl on the kitchen floor
while on my hands and knees. We
laughed when I couldn't do it. But when
I was Mother, she
couldn't do it either.
That there was laughter!
A blue tablecloth.
Salt and pepper shakers shaped
like hands, which, put
together, appeared to pray. When
I was thirsty, another daughter poured
a cup of water for me, pouring
water with such confidence it
seemed to me that she
might have poured the first water
from the first tap. When, out
of curiosity, I went
into their bathroom and pretended to pee
I witnessed toilet paper printed with
forget-me-nots, along with a little dish
that held a piece of pink soap in it.
And, when, after this, I couldn't sleep
for three nights in a row, my
mother finally gave up
trying to comfort me.
優(yōu)秀經(jīng)典英語(yǔ)詩(shī)歌：Famous Negro Athletes
Adrian Matejka
after Jean-Michel Basquiat
We are all famous Sunday mornings at the Y.
That magnificent & rattled-rim space of big·timing
Sundays. Gym bag hung over the shoulder
of a matching sweatshirt Sundays. Touch one toe
then the other if you can kind of days. Ball shoes
crisp in the bag & What up, team? we say.
For real, on Sundays, we're sweating in quintuplicate
like a grinning team portrait. Knees swollen as roundly
as the composite basketball we play with. & sometimes,
the shoe-string glance from the trainer up front, the
straight up & down of would-be ballers orbiting the ball
court like paparazzi & handshake laughs at bad passes
have to be adequate when your jumper is so far off
somebody should staple flyers to telephone poles for it.
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