Marge Piercy

(March 31, 1936 / Detroit, Michigan)

Marge Piercy Poems

1. To be of use 2/5/2018
2. To have without holding 2/5/2018
3. Toad dreams 2/5/2018
4. Visiting a dead man on a summer day 2/5/2018
5. The cup of Eliyahu 12/1/2015
6. The cup of Eliyahu 2/5/2018
7. Ne'ilah 2/5/2018
8. The birthday of the world 2/5/2018
9. Some things return in spring 2/5/2018
10. The cat's song 2/5/2018
11. The Air Smelled Dirty 2/5/2018
12. The friend 2/5/2018
13. My mother's body 2/5/2018
14. Season of skinny candles 2/5/2018
15. The seder's order 2/5/2018
16. Maggid 2/5/2018
17. Rape Poem 4/17/2015
18. The Secretary Chant 5/13/2015
19. Interspecies 2/5/2018
20. More Than Enough 2/5/2018
21. For the young who want to 2/5/2018
22. Fox in the morning 2/5/2018
23. Doors opening, closing on us 2/5/2018
24. First Time 2/5/2018
25. The Birthday Of The World 3/17/2015
26. Colors passing through us 2/5/2018
27. The late year 2/5/2018
28. Visiting A Dead Man On A Summer Day 1/3/2003
29. Toad Dreams 1/3/2003
30. Traveling Dream 1/3/2003
31. The Neighbor 1/3/2003
32. To The Pay Toilet 1/20/2003
33. The Morning Half-Life Blues 1/1/2004
34. Winter Promises 1/3/2003
35. The Cat's Song 1/3/2003
36. Attack Of The Squash People 1/3/2003
37. Always Unsuitable 1/3/2003
38. My Mother's Body 1/3/2003
39. The Woman In The Ordinary 1/3/2003
40. The Friend 1/3/2003

Comments about Marge Piercy

  • Bri Edwards Bri Edwards (11/18/2018 9:50:00 PM)

    Barbie Doll goes to MyPoemList and into my December 2018 showcase.




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  • Bri Edwards Bri Edwards (11/15/2018 2:28:00 PM)

    i just read Marge's Barbie Doll. i found it to be a fantastic write. it's about how people are treated and how they may react when they are NOT 'picture-perfect' [women] as portrayed on covers (and in centerfolds) of magazines, in TV ads, and on couter runways.

    bri (:

  • Sandra Gloystein Sandra Gloystein (11/5/2017 3:58:00 AM)

    This blew me away. I stumbled upon this by sheer luck.
    Thank you for sharing this.

  • Isaac Halberstadt Isaac Halberstadt (8/12/2017 11:57:00 AM)

    I came across her work quite by accident while scanning the shelves of a dusty old book store, I was intrigued by the title, 'The Moon is Always Female'. I took it down and was further intrigued by the cover, a painting of the moon being Eclipsed by a grinning, green-eyed Cheshire Cat. I opened it up at random and was intrigued further still by the poem titled 'For Strong Women'. I read the poem, and was hooked for life.
    Marge Peircy's poetry breathes a sensitive femininity which is calloused with hard-won respect and gritty with the determination to make a better world through her words and experiences. She is not afraid to show her cuts bruises, nor is she afraid to cut and bruise the reader in return with her dagger-sharp words and inescapable imagery that barrels down on you like a freight train. To read her works is to be made very small and very strong, all at the same time.

  • Rachael Brennan (6/22/2015 2:39:00 PM)

    Marge Piercy has been my all time favourite poet for several decades now. And she still impresses me.

  • p.a. noushad p.a. noushad (5/10/2015 2:15:00 AM)

    Dear Marge Piercy, I like your verses.

  • Chano Leal (11/18/2012 2:40:00 PM)


Best Poem of Marge Piercy

Barbie Doll

This girlchild was born as usual
and presented dolls that did pee-pee
and miniature GE stoves and irons
and wee lipsticks the color of cherry candy.
Then in the magic of puberty, a classmate said:
You have a great big nose and fat legs.

She was healthy, tested intelligent,
possessed strong arms and back,
abundant sexual drive and manual dexterity.
She went to and fro apologizing.
Everyone saw a fat nose on thick legs.

She was advised to play coy,
exhorted to come on hearty,
exercise, diet, smile and wheedle.
Her good nature wore out
like a...

Read the full of Barbie Doll

The Cat's Song

Mine, says the cat, putting out his paw of darkness.
My lover, my friend, my slave, my toy, says
the cat making on your chest his gesture of drawing
milk from his mother's forgotten breasts.

Let us walk in the woods, says the cat.
I'll teach you to read the tabloid of scents,
to fade into shadow, wait like a trap, to hunt.
Now I lay this plump warm mouse on your mat.

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