A Clasp Of Hands

Related poetry:

1. The Gardener XXVI: What Comes From Your Willing Hands “What comes from your willing Hands I take. I beg for nothing More.” “Yes, yes, I know you, modest Mendicant, you ask for all that one Has.” “If there be a stray flower for me I will wear it in my heart.” “But if there be thorns?” “I will endure them.” “Yes, yes, I know […]...
2. Clean Hands IT is something to face the sun and know you are free. To hold your head in the shafts of daylight slanting the earth And know your heart has kept a promise and the blood runs clean: It is something. To go one day of your life among all men with clean hands, Clean for […]...
3. The Clasp She was four, he was one, it was raining, we had colds, We had been in the apartment two weeks straight, I grabbed her to keep her from shoving him over on his Face, again, and when I had her wrist In my grasp I compressed it, fiercely, for a couple Of seconds, to make […]...
4. The Hands of the Betrothed Her tawny eyes are onyx of thoughtlessness, Hardened they are like gems in ancient modesty; Yea, and her mouth’s prudent and crude caress Means even less than her many words to me. Though her kiss betrays me also this, this only Consolation, that in her lips her blood at climax clips Two wild, dumb paws […]...
5. The Day Is Gone, And All Its Sweets Are Gone The day is gone, and all its sweets are gone! Sweet voice, sweet lips, soft hand, and softer breast, Warm breath, light whisper, tender semitone, Bright eyes, accomplished shape, and lang’rous waist! Faded the flower and all its budded charms, Faded the sight of beauty from my eyes, Faded the shape of beauty from my […]...
6. For The One Who Would Take Man's Life In His Hands Tiger Christ unsheathed his sword, Threw it down, became a lamb. Swift spat upon the species, but Took two women to his heart. Samson who was strong as death Paid his strength to kiss a slut. Othello that stiff warrior Was broken by a woman’s heart. Troy burned for a sea-tax, also for Possession of […]...
7. The Poor Children Take heed of this small child of earth; He is great; he hath in him God most high. Children before their fleshly birth Are lights alive in the blue sky. In our light bitter world of wrong They come; God gives us them awhile. His speech is in their stammering tongue, And his forgiveness in […]...
8. A Cider Song To J. S. M. The wine they drink in Paradise They make in Haute Lorraine; God brought it burning from the sod To be a sign and signal rod That they that drink the blood of God Shall never thirst again. The wine they praise in Paradise They make in Ponterey, The purple wine of […]...
9. The Hangman's Great Hands And all that is this day. . . The boy with cap slung over what had been a face. .. Somehow the cop will sleep tonight, will make love to his Wife… Anger won’t help. I was born angry. Angry that my father was Being burnt alive in the mills; Angry that none of us […]...
10. To Mrs Reynolds' Cat Cat! who hast pass’d thy grand climacteric, How many mice and rats hast in thy days Destroy’d? How many tit bits stolen? Gaze With those bright languid segments green, and prick Those velvet ears – but pr’ythee do not stick Thy latent talons in me – and upraise Thy gentle mew – and tell me […]...
11. Jessie WHEN Jessie comes with her soft breast, And yields the golden keys, Then is it as if God caress’d Twin babes upon His knees Twin babes that, each to other press’d, Just feel the Father’s arms, wherewith they both are bless’d. But when I think if we must part, And all this personal dream be […]...
12. Benediction Blest in death and life beyond man’s guessing Little children live and die, possest Still of grace that keeps them past expressing Blest. Each least chirp that rings from every nest, Each least touch of flower-soft fingers pressing Aught that yearns and trembles to be prest, Each least glance, gives gifts of grace, redressing Grief’s […]...
13. The Gardener XVI: Hands Cling to Eyes Hands cling to hands and eyes linger On eyes: thus begins the record of our Hearts. It is the moonlit night of March; The sweet smell of henna is in the air; My flute lies on the earth neglected And your garland of flowers is Unfinished. This love between you and me is Simple as […]...
14. A Ninth Birthday Three times thrice hath winter’s rough white wing Crossed and curdled wells and streams with ice Since his birth whose praises love would sing Three times thrice. Earth nor sea bears flower nor pearl of price Fit to crown the forehead of my king, Honey meet to please him, balm, nor spice. Love can think […]...
15. Etude Realiste A Baby’s feet, like sea-shells pink, Might tempt, should heaven see meet, An angel’s lips to kiss, we think, A baby’s feet. Like rose-hued sea-flowers toward the heat They stretch and spread and wink Their ten soft buds that part and meet. No flower-bells that expand and shrink Gleam half so heavenly sweet As shine […]...
16. Runner, The ON a flat road runs the well-train’d runner; He is lean and sinewy, with muscular legs; He is thinly clothed-he leans forward as he runs, With lightly closed fists, and arms partially rais’d....
17. Our Hands Have Met Our hands have met, our lips have met Our souls – who knows when the wind blows How light souls drift mid longings set, If thou forget’st, can I forget The time that was not long ago? Thou wert not silent then, but told Sweet secrets dear – I drew so near Thy shamefaced cheeks […]...
18. Rose Leaves When they shall close my careless eyes And look their last upon my face, I fear that some will say: “her lies A man of deep disgrace; His thoughts were bare, his words were brittle, He dreamed so much, he did so little. When they shall seal y coffin lid And this worn mask I […]...
19. They leave us with the Infinite They leave us with the Infinite. But He is not a man His fingers are the size of fists His fists, the size of men And whom he foundeth, with his Arm As Himmaleh, shall stand Gibraltar’s Everlasting Shoe Poised lightly on his Hand, So trust him, Comrade You for you, and I, for you […]...
20. The Evening Primrose You know the bloom, unearthly white, That none has seen by morning light- The tender moon, alone, may bare Its beauty to the secret air. Who’d venture past its dark retreat Must kneel, for holy things and sweet, That blossom, mystically blown, No man may gather for his own Nor touch it, lest it droop […]...
21. Notes for Canto CXX I have tried to write Paradise Do not move Let the wind speak That is paradise. Let the Gods forgive what I Have made Let those I love try to forgive What I have made....
22. The Bird of Paradise Here comes Kate Summers, who, for gold, Takes any man to bed: “You knew my friend, Nell Barnes,” she said; “You knew Nell Barnes she’s dead. “Nell Barnes was bad on all you men, Unclean, a thief as well; Yet all my life I have not found A better friend than Nell. “So I sat […]...
23. Memory Brightly the sun of summer shone, Green fields and waving woods upon, And soft winds wandered by; Above, a sky of purest blue, Around, bright flowers of loveliest hue, Allured the gazer’s eye. But what were all these charms to me, When one sweet breath of memory Came gently wafting by? I closed my eyes […]...
24. Dream Love I DID not deem it half so sweet To feel thy gentle hand, As in a dream thy soul to greet Across wide leagues of land. Untouched more near to draw to you Where, amid radiant skies, Glimmered thy plumes of iris hue, My Bird of Paradise. Let me dream only with my heart, Love […]...
25. Gods In The Gutter I dreamed I saw three demi-gods who in a cafe sat, And one was small and crapulous, and one was large and fat; And one was eaten up with vice and verminous at that. The first he spoke of secret sins, and gems and perfumes rare; And velvet cats and courtesans voluptuously fair: “Who is […]...
26. The Flower How fresh, O Lord, how sweet and clean Are thy returns! ev’n as the flowers in spring; To which, besides their own demean, The late-past frosts tributes of pleasure bring. Grief melts away Like snows in May, As if there were no such cold thing. Who would have thought my shrivelled heart Could have recovered […]...
27. All the letters I can write All the letters I can write Are not fair as this Syllables of Velvet Sentences of Plush, Depths of Ruby, undrained, Hid, Lip, for Thee Play it were a Humming Bird And just sipped me...
28. Beauty and Beauty When Beauty and Beauty meet All naked, fair to fair, The earth is crying-sweet, And scattering-bright the air, Eddying, dizzying, closing round, With soft and drunken laughter; Veiling all that may befall After after Where Beauty and Beauty met, Earth’s still a-tremble there, And winds are scented yet, And memory-soft the air, Bosoming, folding glints […]...
29. Flower of Love The perfume of your body dulls my sense. I want nor wine nor weed; your breath alone Suffices. In this moment rare and tense I worship at your breast. The flower is blown, The saffron petals tempt my amorous mouth, The yellow heart is radiant now with dew Soft-scented, redolent of my loved South; O […]...
30. The End of the World Here, at the end of the world, The flowers bleed As if they were hearts, The hearts ooze a darkness Like india ink, & poets dip their pens in & they write. “Here, at the end of the world,” They write, Not knowing what it means. “Here, where the sky nurses on black milk, Where […]...
31. Winter in the Country Sweet life! how lovely to be here And feel the soft sea-laden breeze Strike my flushed face, the spruce’s fair Free limbs to see, the lesser trees’ Bare hands to touch, the sparrow’s cheep To heed, and watch his nimble flight Above the short brown grass asleep. Love glorious in his friendly might, Music that […]...
32. Hands There was a road that leads him to go to find A certain time where he sits. Smokes quietly in the evening by the four legged Table wagging its (well why not) tail, friendly Chap. Hears footsteps, looks to find his own feet gone. The road absorbs everything with rumors of sleep. And then he […]...
33. The Daisy follows soft the Sun The Daisy follows soft the Sun And when his golden walk is done Sits shyly at his feet He waking finds the flower there Wherefore Marauder art thou here? Because, Sir, love is sweet! We are the Flower Thou the Sun! Forgive us, if as days decline We nearer steal to Thee! Enamored of the […]...
34. My Father's Love Letters On Fridays he’d open a can of Jax After coming home from the mill, & ask me to write a letter to my mother Who sent postcards of desert flowers Taller than men. He would beg, Promising to never beat her Again. Somehow I was happy She had gone, & sometimes wanted To slip in […]...
35. Just as He spoke it from his Hands Just as He spoke it from his Hands This Edifice remain A Turret more, a Turret less Dishonor his Design According as his skill prefer It perish, or endure Content, soe’er, it ornament His absent character....
36. A Valentine For Hands names, silence-quietest minutes (building like rain or returning like seas) Since they have touched me, your warm hands have sown Gentlest sounds, touches and hours (or, building like rain, turning, like seas) (building like rain, or returning like seas) Ripples and springs-the shiniest rivers- Since they have known me your warm hands have gathered Smallest, […]...
37. I Wrung My Hands I wrung my hands under my dark veil. . . “Why are you pale, what makes you reckless?” Because I have made my loved one drunk With an astringent sadness. I’ll never forget. He went out, reeling; His mouth was twisted, desolate. . . I ran downstairs, not touching the banisters, And followed him as […]...
38. Hold your mad hands Hold your mad hands! for ever on your plain Must the gorged vulture clog his beak with blood? For ever must your Niger’s tainted flood, Roll to the ravenous shark his banquet slain? Hold your mad hands! and learn at length to know, And turn your vengeance on the common foe, Yon treacherous vessel and […]...
39. Clasping of Hands LORD, Thou art mine, and I am Thine, If mine I am; and Thine much more Then I or ought or can be mine. Yet to be Thine doth me restore, So that again I now am mine, And with advantage mine the more, Since this being mine brings with it Thine, And Thou with […]...
40. White Hands FOR the second time in a year this lady with the white hands is brought to the west room second floor of a famous sanatorium. Her husband is a cornice manufacturer in an Iowa town and the lady has often read papers on Victorian poets before the local literary club. Yesterday she washed her hands […]...