Naomi Shihab Nye
Burning the Old Year
Letters swallow themselves in seconds.
Notes friends tied to the doorknob,
transparent scarlet paper,
sizzle like moth wings,
marry the air.
So much of any year is flammable,
lists of vegetables, partial poems.
Orange swirling flame of days,
so little is a stone.
Where there was something and suddenly isn’t,
an absence shouts, celebrates, leaves a space.
I begin again with the smallest numbers.
Quick dance, shuffle of losses and leaves,
only the things I didn’t do
crackle after the blazing dies.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Burning the Old Year by Naomi Shihab Nye )
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(8 February 1911 – 6 October 1979)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
Poem of the Day
- Old man Standing, michael hagwood
- Angelwalk 1, Mr. Spock
- In the rooms, Tom Squires
- stop talking to me, m. l. eoff
- A Lover of A Muslim Girl Am I, Bijay Kant Dubey
- Death ballet, Ojaswi Machiraju
- The Indian Villages of Paglets, Bijay Kant Dubey
- Fred Claus Got It Right, Mr. Nobody
- Taron, Pariyon Ke Desh Meri Chandramukhi.., Bijay Kant Dubey
- Chandramukhi, I Haven't Seen You For So .., Bijay Kant Dubey