This poem adroitly explores complex emotions around the speaker’s decision not to have a child.

In this poem, Canadian poet, Solie reflects on her past and on the child she once was. She comes to the conclusion that that past is unattainable: “Still, you, / as you stand now, have never been there.” Here too life is full of uncertainties.

I’ll never again be cheeredby the chirpingand delicate songs of birdsnor by love or great richesnor by weapons (whose perils,I confess,have come to make me tremble),but only by a seaworthy vesselto carry me with all good speedaway from this land’s demonheart, full of scorpions,as my heart knows, being sorefrom all their stinging poison.I solemnly swear by GodI’ll gowithout a beard or a cloak,I’ll keep my heart closedto love, and take no weapons(which alwaysresult in grief and disaster):a boat is all I ask for.And with it I will sailalong the coast, sellingoil and flour, fleeinguntil my heart is freefrom every venomous sting.The gaming tables used toamuse meand I always loved to joust,but those things bore me now,and spending nights as an armedguardhas also lost its appeal:I would rather be a seamanthan keep on as a knight.When I was young I pliedthe waters, and it’s my dreamto sail once more on the deep,out of the scorpions’ reach.I still have this to tell:the devilwill never be able to fool mewith vain thoughts of usingthe weapons I’ve laid to rest(bestnot even to mention them,as I won’t use them again).Alone, as a merchantman,I’ll sail in search of a landwhere I know I can’t be stungby black and vicious scorpionsor by brightly colored ones.

it's not the crutches we decry

it's the need to move forward

though we haven't the strength

women aren't allowed to need

so they develop rituals

since we all know working hands idle

the devil

women aren't supposed to be strong

so they develop social smiles

and secret drinking problems

and female lovers whom they never touch

except in dreams

men are supposed to be strong

so they have heart attacks

and develop other women

who don't know their weaknesses

and hide their fears

behind male lovers

whom they religiously touch

each saturday morning on the basketball court

it's considered a sign of health doncha know

that they take such good care

of their bodies

On the twelve identical bridges

not a single one without endless streams of traffic.

The evening bell tolled, birds retrieved their shadows,

steeples faded into a gray sky.

Eyes in a daze, last leaves in the wind

kept trembling, not knowing where to fall.

A spurt of feelings from the divided self

as if you stood on every one of the twelve bridges.

Listening to praise songs on the wind

you were in an ocean of raging fire.

Paratroopers of the heavy snow still gathering then,

the moths of the soul chopped open the church’s candlelight.

Rising up intensely, they became air and darkness.

The wind cried out on the bridge, whose soul was that?

Become yourself, not the soul of another person,

cold and lonely like stars.

In the bustle of traffic and celebration of the flesh,

become a river, washing away silent sorrows.

A Portrait of a Dog as an Old Man" is a poem written by Katia Kapovich about a dog who loses his owner and how his life changes after that. Overall, The poem is a beautiful and poignant meditation on life, aging, and the bonds we form with the animals we love.

"Abandoned Farmhouse" by Ted Kooser is a haunting and evocative poem that delves into the eerie atmosphere of a deserted rural home.