Erica Jong

(26 March 1942 / New York City)

Erica Jong Poems

121. A Reading 3/28/2012
122. Another Language 3/28/2012
123. At The Museum Of Natural History 3/28/2012
124. The Dirty Laundry Poem 3/28/2012
125. For All Those Who Died 3/28/2012
126. Becoming A Nun 3/28/2012
127. Continental Divide 3/28/2012
128. Birthdays 3/28/2012
129. Aura 3/28/2012
130. Alcestis On The Poetry Circuit 3/28/2012
131. Books 3/28/2012
132. Because I Would Not Admit 3/28/2012
133. Empty 3/28/2012
134. Depression In Early Spring 3/28/2012
135. The Central Passion 3/28/2012
136. The Artist As An Old Man 1/3/2003
137. Narcissus, Photographer 1/3/2003
138. January In New York 3/28/2012
139. Blood & Honey 3/28/2012
140. The Poet Fears Failure 1/3/2003
141. For An Earth-Landing 1/3/2003
142. Dear Keats 3/28/2012
143. Henry James In The Heart Of The City 1/3/2003
144. Colder 1/3/2003
145. To My Brother Poet, Seeking Peace 1/3/2003
146. Autobiographical 1/3/2003
147. Middle Aged Lovers, Ii 1/3/2003
148. Baby Witch 3/28/2012
149. At The Edge Of The Body 3/28/2012
150. To Whom It May Concern 1/3/2003
151. People Who Live 1/3/2003
152. The End Of The World 1/3/2003
153. Ordinary Miracles 1/3/2003
154. Parable Of The Four-Poster 1/3/2003
155. Autumn Perspective 1/3/2003
156. Smoke 1/3/2003
157. We Learned 1/3/2003
158. The Poem Cat 1/3/2003
159. Flying At Forty 1/3/2003
160. Sunday Afternoons 1/3/2003

Comments about Erica Jong

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    my ­b­est ­fr­i­e­n­d's st­e­p-s­ist­er ­m­A­k­es $77 ­ev­ery ­h­our ­o­n t­h­e ­c­o­m­put­er. S­h­e ­h­As ­b­e­e­n w­it­h­out w­or­k ­f­or t­e­n ­m­o­nt­hs ­but ­l­Ast ­m­o­nt­h ­h­er ­c­h­e­c­k w­As $16080 just w­or­k­i­n­g ­o­n t­h­e ­c­o­m­put­er ­f­or ­A ­f­ew ­h­ours. ­g­o t­o t­h­is w­e­b s­it­e ­A­n­d r­e­A­d ­m­or­e ­g­o t­o t­h­is s­it­e ­h­o­m­e t­A­b ­f­or ­m­or­e ­d­et­A­i­l. HERE======►► www.more.cash61.com ★★★COPY THIS SITE★★★

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  • Mohammed Asim Nehal (2/16/2019 12:40:00 PM)

    Great thinker and fantastic quote:
    ''Everyone has talent. What is rare is the courage to follow the talent to the dark place where it leads.''

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  • Elinoar rozen (1/18/2018 11:20:00 PM)

    Looking for the poem Cornucopia by Erica jong

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  • Mariessa Retuya Mariessa Retuya (9/16/2012 10:25:00 AM)

    Hi Ms. Erica Jong good evening.. I'm Mariessa Retuya from Philippines a 3rd year student at University of Cebu Lapu-lapu and Mandaue taking up Bachelor of Science in Secondary Education specializing English and one of my course for this semester is Literary Criticism. In line with this, I would like to ask your permission to allow me to use your poem entitled WRINKLES as a material on the said course because I found your poem interesting and nice, and this would be a great help for us students. Your possible response with this message would be of great help, thank you and god speed ;)

    2 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • Mariessa Retuya Mariessa Retuya (9/16/2012 10:23:00 AM)

    Hi Ms. Erica Jong good evening.. I'm Mariessa Retuya from Philippines a 3rd year student at University of Cebu Lapu-lapu and Mandaue taking up Bachelor of Science in Secondary Education specializing English and one of my course for this semester is Literary Criticism. In line with this, I would like to ask your permission to allow me to use your poem entitled WRINKLES as a material on the said course because I found your poem interesting and nice, and this would be a great help for us students. Your possible response with this message would be of great help, thank you and god speed ;)

    0 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
Best Poem of Erica Jong

After The Earthquake

After the first astounding rush,
after the weeks at the lake,
the crystal, the clouds, the water lapping the rocks,
the snow breaking under our boots like skin,
& the long mornings in bed. . .

After the tangos in the kitchen,
& our eyes fixed on each other at dinner,
as if we would eat with our lids,
as if we would swallow each other. . .

I find you still
here beside me in bed,
(while my pen scratches the pad
& your skin glows as you read)
& my whole life so mellowed & changed

that at times I cannot remember
the crimp in my heart that ...

Read the full of After The Earthquake

The Artist As An Old Man

If you ask him he will talk for hours--
how at fourteen he hammered signs, fingers
raw with cold, and later painted bowers
in ladies' boudoirs; how he played checkers
for two weeks in jail, and lived on dark bread;
how he fled the border to a country
which disappeared wars ago; unfriended
crossed a continent while this century
began. He seldom speaks of painting now.

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