I think of the children who will never know, intuitively, that a flower is a plant’s way of making love, or what silence sounds like, or that trees breathe out what we breathe in.
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To save your time and ours, we suggest you take a look at The Sun before submitting. We’ve provided some sample poetry below.
By Ellen Bass • January 2018
Tonight, as you undress, I watch your wondrous
flesh that’s swelled again, the way a river swells
when the ice relents. Sweet relief
By David Hernandez • July 2015
We the people, we the one
times 320 million, I’m rounding up, there are really
too many grass blades to count,
By Tony Hoagland • August 2017
Of course there is a time of afternoon, out there in the yard,
an hour that has never been described.
By Brionne Janae • June 2018
to the curve in my spine, the lopsided shoulder, the vertebrae’s dance, praise
to the knuckle & crease of my toes, to my narrow feet & resilient soles, praise
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