in the shape of a human body review.

Poetry is not something I used to gravitate towards. Recently I have delved into this genre and I absolutely love it. Poetry is full of stunning language. It is a concise yet vague way to express emotion. All I really know is that I’m obsessed. I have begun collecting poetry books when I travel to new places and I now have a nice little stack. Being that it is national poetry month, I thought it’d be the perfect time to explore the assortment of poetry sitting on my bookshelf.

To kick off my little series, I have In the Shape of a Human Body I Am Visiting Earth, poems from far and wide. These poems are, as the title suggests, a compilation from incredibly talented writers from around the globe. I’ve selected three poems from a plethora of options. The ones I chose were based on what resonated with me most.

Throughout this poetry series I will write some reviews and let some just speak for themselves. The whole idea of poetry is to have an open interpretation. With this collection I am choosing to let you all just enjoy. I hope that you may find some love for poetry as I have. Or at least open your mind to the endless possibilities through the written word.

The Cross of History Nikola Madzirov

I dissolved in the crystals of undiscovered stones,
I live among the cities, invisible
as the air between slices of bread.
I’m contained in the rust
on the edges of the anchors.
In the whirlwind I am a child
beginning to believe in living gods.
I’m the equivalent of the migrant birds
that are always returning, never departing.
I want to exist among the continuous verbs,
in the roots that sleep
among the foundations of the first houses.
In death I want to be
a soldier of undiscovered innocence,
crucified by history
on a glass cross through which
in the distance flowers can be seen.

Wild Youth Sigurdur Palsson

Crumbling bread behind the sofa
Plucking the buds from the most optimistic flower
Cursing in church as much as you dare
Making garlands of swearwords in the meadow
Blocking the waterbutt
Darting after the chickens
Throwing rocks into the barn
Pissing on the dog

Then going inside and kissing mother, smiling

The Necklace Osip Mandelstam

Take, from my palms, for joy, for ease,
A little honey, a little sun,
That we may obey Persephone’s bees.

You can’t untie a boat unmoored.
Fur-shod shadows can’t be heard,
Nor terror, in this life, mastered.

Love, what’s left for us, and of us, is this
Living remnant, loving revenant, brief kiss
Like a bee flying completed dying hiveless

To find in the forest’s heart a home,
Night’s neverending hum,
Thriving on meadowsweet, mint, and time.

Take, for all that is good, for all that is gone,
That it may lie rough and real against your collarbone,
This string of bees, that once turned honey into sun.

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