Limelight Poetry
Where poetry meets in NYC
Limelight Poetry is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization dedicated to promoting world poetry, founded in 2024 in New York City by poet Wang Yin. It invites outstanding poets and artists from around the world to share their work in various forms, with the goal of showcasing poetry in underrepresented languages. Drawing on the city's rich cultural resources, Limelight Poetry connects poetry with other art forms, fostering a global exchange of poetic expression. It welcomes audiences into a vibrant and inspiring world of poetry, music, and beyond.
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June 17, 2025 | 6:30 PM
Stavros Niarchos Foundation Library
Limelight Poetry Series x World Poetry Salon II
POET
Victoria Chang
MUSICIAN
yuniya edi kwon
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HOST
Patricio Ferrari
Location
Stavros Niarchos Foundation Library
Join The New York Public Library and Limelight Poetry at the Stavros Niarchos Foundation Library (SNFL) for our World Poetry Salon!
UPCOMING
Victoria Chang
Tue. Jun 17, 2025
6:30pm - 8:00pm
Stavros Niarchos Foundation Library
455 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10016
Colm Tóibín
Tue. Sept 16, 2025
6:30pm - 8:00pm
Stavros Niarchos Foundation Library
455 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10016
Latest Recap:
World Poetry Salon
Nikola Madzirov
with Becca Stevens
and Patricio Ferrari
Photo by Peng Yu & Jonathan Blanc
POEM OF THE DAY
On a Clear Day, 1973
On a clear day,
the horses
across the field
and had
people who
hunched over
a clear day, all the
sounds fit
What if our
thinking was
When out, it
becomes
of thinking but all
the thinking
only 48. On
clear days
And 48
apples.
6 dead
Asian women who
morning, I lean in
closer to the
both the
outline and the
disappeared. Just
the apples
become
rectangles. When
their apples were
far away.
into the boxes.
On any clear
never meant to
come out?
weapons, takes
on different
is divided
into portions.
there are only
48 birds,
I keep counting
grids.
don’t fit into
48 boxes.
mirror and
someone has
outlined. That
lines are
they had been
fed were left.
people found them,
they still
But the sounds
of their
day, all my
thinking fits into
If it only
remains thinking
shapes with
sharp points.
Today, I am hungry
but all the
48 people,
and 48
But no
matter how
All night, my
thoughts are
drawn lines
across my face.
not meant
to hold in
The apples
were strewn
gathered and
ate them. The
chewing were
over here. On
boxes that can’t
be opened.
within
boxes?
Today, there is
no shortage
portions are gone,
there are
houses. And
48 wars.
I try, I still
get
shaped like
birds. In the
I realize that
failure consists of
our
emptiness.
by Victoria Chang
On a clear day,
the horses
they had been
fed were left.
across the field
and had
people found them,
they still
people who
hunched over
But the sounds
of their
a clear day, all the
sounds fit
day, all my
thinking fits into
What if our
thinking was
If it only
remains thinking
When out, it
becomes
shapes with
sharp points.
of thinking but all
the thinking
Today, I am hungry
but all the
only 48. On
clear days
48 people,
and 48
And 48
apples.
But no
matter how
6 dead
Asian women who
All night, my
thoughts are
morning, I lean in
closer to the
drawn lines
across my face.
both the
outline and the
not meant
to hold in
disappeared. Just
the apples
The apples
were strewn
become
rectangles. When
gathered and
ate them. The
their apples were
far away.
chewing were
over here. On
into the boxes.
On any clear
boxes that can’t
be opened.
never meant to
come out?
within
boxes?
weapons, takes
on different
Today, there is
no shortage
is divided
into portions.
portions are gone,
there are
there are only
48 birds,
houses. And
48 wars.
I keep counting
grids.
I try, I still
get
don’t fit into
48 boxes.
shaped like
birds. In the
mirror and
someone has
I realize that
failure consists of
outlined. That
lines are
our
emptiness.
HOME
WHEN SOMEONE GOES AWAY
EVERYTHING THAT’S BEEN DONE COMES BACK
I DON'T KNOW
SEPARATED
USUAL SUMMER NIGHTFALL
WHAT WE HAVE SAID HAUNTS US
SHADOWS PASS US BY
THE ONE WHO WRITES
THE EYE
I SAW DREAMS
FAST IS THE CENTURY
Поема на денот
ПО НАС
Еден ден некој ќе ги здипли нашите ќебиња
и ќе ги прати на хемиско чистење
од нив да го истрие последното зрнце сол,
ќе ги отвори нашите писма и ќе ги реди по датуми
наместо по исчитаност.
Еден ден некој ќе го размести мебелот во собата
како шаховски фигури на почеток од нова игра,
ќе ја отвори старата кутија за чевли
во која ги чуваме паднатите копчиња од пижамите,
недотрошените батерии и гладта.
Еден ден ќе ни се врати болката во 'рбетот
од тежината на хотелските клучеви и
сомнежот со кој рецепционерот ни го подава
далечинскиот управувач.
Туѓите сожалувања ќе тргнат по нас
како месечина по заталкано дете.
од Никола Маџиров
ДОМ
КОГА НЕКОЈ ЗАМИНУВА
СÈ ШТО Е СОЗДАДЕНО СЕ ВРАЌА
НЕ ЗНАМ
ОДВОЕН
ОБИЧНОТО ЛЕТНО ЗАНОЌУВАЊЕ
ИЗРЕЧЕНОТО НÈ ПРОГОНУВА
СЕНКИТЕ НÈ ОДМИНУВААТ
ОНОЈ ШТО ПИШУВА
OKOTO
ВИДОВ СОНОВИ
БРЗ Е ВЕКОТ