Weather

Related poetry:

1. Sorley's Weather When outside the icy rain Comes leaping helter-skelter, Shall I tie my restive brain Snugly under shelter? Shall I make a gentle song Here in my firelit study, When outside the winds blow strong And the lanes are muddy? With old wine and drowsy meats Am I to fill my belly? Shall I glutton here […]...
2. Breton Wife A Wintertide we had been wed When Jan went off to sea; And now the laurel rose is red And I wait on the quay. His berthing boat I watch with dread, For where, oh where is he? “Weep not, brave lass,” the Skipper said; “Return to you he will; In hospital he lies abed […]...
3. A Process In The Weather Of The Heart A process in the weather of the heart Turns damp to dry; the golden shot Storms in the freezing tomb. A weather in the quarter of the veins Turns night to day; blood in their suns Lights up the living worm. A process in the eye forwarns The bones of blindness; and the womb Drives […]...
4. My Masterpiece It’s slim and trim and bound in blue; Its leaves are crisp and edged with gold; Its words are simple, stalwart too; Its thoughts are tender, wise and bold. Its pages scintillate with wit; Its pathos clutches at my throat: Oh, how I love each line of it! That Little Book I Never Wrote. In […]...
5. Sudden Fine Weather Reader! what soul that laoves a verse can see The spring return, nor glow like you and me? Hear the quick birds, and see the landscape fill, Nor long to utter his melodious will? This more than ever leaps into the veins, When spring has been delay’d by winds and rains, And coming with a […]...
6. Prayer In Bad Weather by God, I don’t know what to Do. They’re so nice to have around. They have a way of playing with The balls And looking at the cock very Seriously Turning it Tweeking it Examining each part As their long hair falls on Your belly. It’s not the fucking and sucking Alone that reaches into […]...
7. A Tragedy Among his books he sits all day To think and read and write; He does not smell the new-mown hay, The roses red and white. I walk among them all alone, His silly, stupid wife; The world seems tasteless, dead and done – An empty thing is life. At night his window casts a square […]...
8. Your Poem My poem may be yours indeed In melody and tone, If in its rhythm you can read A music of your own; If in its pale woof you can weave Your lovelier design, ‘Twill make my lyric, I believe, More yours than mine. I’m but a prompter at the best; Crude cues are all I […]...
9. Vanity My tangoing seemed to delight her; With me it was love at first sight. I mentioned That I was a writer: She asked me: “What is it you write?” “Oh, only best-sellers,” I told her. Their titles? . . . She shook her blonde head; The atmosphere seemed to grow colder: Not one of my […]...
10. On Vital Statistics Ill fares the land to hast’ning ills a prey (1) Where wealth accumulates and men decay.’ But how much more unfortunate are those Where wealth declines and population grows! (1)This line is execrable; and I note it. I quote it as the faulty poet wrote it....
11. Dead poet I’m sure it would be easier to survive as a dead poet, I mean it in the surmise that I won’t be tempted To revise or rewrite the poem I wrote last night, or the Poems I wrote last week (which make me cringe when I Read them again), or when I read poetry of […]...
12. PG Wooster, Just as he Useter Bound to your bookseller, leap to your library, Deluge your dealer with bakshish and bribary, Lean on the counter and never say when, Wodehouse and Wooster are with us again. Flourish the fish-slice, your buttons unloosing, Prepare for the fabulous browsing and sluicing, And quote, til you’re known as the neighborhood nuisance, The gems that […]...
13. My Cross I wrote a poem to the moon But no one noticed it; Although I hoped that late or soon Someone would praise a bit Its purity and grace forlone, Its beauty tulip-cool… But as my poem died still-born, I felt a fool. I wrote a verse of vulgar trend Spiced with an oath or two; […]...
14. Wet-weather Talk It hain’t no use to grumble and complane; It’s jest as cheap and easy to rejoice. When God sorts out the weather and sends rain, W’y rain’s my choice. Men ginerly, to all intents Although they’re apt to grumble some Puts most theyr trust in Providence, And takes things as they come That is, the […]...
15. Fair Weather This level reach of blue is not my sea; Here are sweet waters, pretty in the sun, Whose quiet ripples meet obediently A marked and measured line, one after one. This is no sea of mine. that humbly laves Untroubled sands, spread glittering and warm. I have a need of wilder, crueler waves; They sicken […]...
16. Chicago Weather To-day, fair Thisbe, winsome girl! Strays o’er the meads where daisies blow, Or, ling’ring where the brooklets purl, Laves in the cool, refreshing flow. To-morrow, Thisbe, with a host Of amorous suitors in her train, Comes like a goddess forth to coast Or skate upon the frozen main. To-day, sweet posies mark her track, While […]...
17. A Song Of Winter Weather It isn’t the foe that we fear; It isn’t the bullets that whine; It isn’t the business career Of a shell, or the bust of a mine; It isn’t the snipers who seek To nip our young hopes in the bud: No, it isn’t the guns, And it isn’t the Huns It’s the MUD, MUD, […]...
18. Between the Showers Between the showers I went my way, The glistening street was bright with flowers; It seemed that March had turned to May Between the showers. Above the shining roofs and towers The blue broke forth athwart the grey; Birds carolled in their leafless bowers. Hither and tither, swift and gay, The people chased the changeful […]...
19. Epistemology I. Kick at the rock, Sam Johnson, break your bones: But cloudy, cloudy is the stuff of stones. II. We milk the cow of the world, and as we do We whisper in her ear, ‘You are not true.’...
20. October's Bright Blue Weather O suns and skies and clouds of June, And flowers of June together, Ye cannot rival for one hour October’s bright blue weather; When loud the bumblebee makes haste, Belated, thriftless vagrant, And goldenrod is dying fast, And lanes with grapes are fragrant; When gentians roll their fingers tight To save them for the morning, […]...
21. Sonnet To Liberty These are the letters which Endymion wrote To one he loved in secret, and apart. And now the brawlers of the auction mart Bargain and bid for each poor blotted note, Ay! for each separate pulse of passion quote The merchant’s price. I think they love not art Who break the crystal of a poet’s […]...
22. Dream Song 8: The weather was fine. They took away his teeth The weather was fine. They took away his teeth, White & helpful; bothered his backhand; Halved his green hair. They blew out his loves, his interests. ‘Underneath,’ (they called in iron voices) ‘understand, Is nothing. So there.’ The weather was very fine. They lifted off His covers till he showed, and cringed & pled To […]...
23. Modern Love XXIII: 'Tis Christmas Weather ‘Tis Christmas weather, and a country house Receives us: rooms are full: we can but get An attic-crib. Such lovers will not fret At that, it is half-said. The great carouse Knocks hard upon the midnight’s hollow door, But when I knock at hers, I see the pit. Why did I come here in that […]...
24. Me, change! Me, alter! Me, change! Me, alter! Then I will, when on the Everlasting Hill A Smaller Purple grows At sunset, or a lesser glow Flickers upon Cordillera At Day’s superior close!...
25. The Cow The friendly cow all red and white, I love with all my heart: She gives me cream with all her might, To eat with apple-tart. She wanders lowing here and there, And yet she cannot stray, All in the pleasant open air, The pleasant light of day; And blown by all the winds that pass […]...
26. To Tu Fu from Shantung You ask how I spend my time I nestle against a treetrunk And listen to autumn winds In the pines all night and day. Shantung wine can’t get me drunk. The local poets bore me. My thoughts remain with you, Like the Wen River, endlessly flowing....
27. The Man Who Could Write Boanerges Blitzen, servant of the Queen, Is a dismal failure is a Might-have-been. In a luckless moment he discovered men Rise to high position through a ready pen. Boanerges Blitzen argued therefore “I, With the selfsame weapon, can attain as high.” Only he did not possess when he made the trial, Wicked wit of C-lv-n, […]...
28. Hannah Armstrong I wrote him a letter asking him for old times’ sake To discharge my sick boy from the army; But maybe he couldn’t read it. Then I went to town and had James Garber, Who wrote beautifully, write him a letter. But maybe that was lost in the mails. So I traveled all the way […]...
29. Typographical The Editor wrote his political screed In ink that was fainter and fainter; He rose to the call of his country’s need, And in spiderish characters wrote with speed, A column on “Cutting the Painter”. The “reader” sat in his high-backed chair, For literals he was a hunter; But he stared aghast at the column […]...
30. Simplicity What I seek far yet seldom find Is large simplicity of mind In fellow men; For I have sprouted from the sod, Like Bobbie Burns, my earthly god, From plough to pen. So I refuse my brain to vex With problems prosy and complex, Beyond my scope; To me simplicity is peace, So I persue […]...
31. For Harry (My College Room-mate who Died) He cut his hand and it bled, the flesh Inside was red and the hurt discounted the flood Of red and vibrant blood that pulsed From the wound. But he was a warrior, A son whose mien would not countenance the pain And he bound the wound in strips of flax And stalked from the […]...
32. Sea Rose Rose, harsh rose, Marred and with stint of petals, Meagre flower, thin, Sparse of leaf, More precious Than a wet rose Single on a stem You are caught in the drift. Stunted, with small leaf, You are flung on the sand, You are lifted In the crisp sand That drives in the wind. Can the […]...
33. OCTOBER FORECAST “Bright with sunny periods Some cloud, occasional showers” Says the local TV forecast. It has been persistently precipitating For more than twelve hours. On the doorstep A soggy mass of pulp Is all that is left Of my note to the milkman. The dog wags her tail In a desperate message; I open the back […]...
34. One Way Of Love All June I bound the rose in sheaves. Now, rose by rose, I strip the leaves And strew them where Pauline may pass. She will not turn aside? Alas! Let them lie. Suppose they die? The chance was they might take her eye. II. How many a month I strove to suit These stubborn fingers […]...
35. Though Deep Indifference Should Drowse THOUGH deep indifference should drowse The sluggish life beneath my brows, And all the external things I see Grow snow-showers in the street to me, Yet inmost in my stormy sense Thy looks shall be an influence. Though other loves may come and go And long years sever us below, Shall the thin ice that […]...
36. The Little Garden A little garden on a bleak hillside Where deep the heavy, dazzling mountain snow Lies far into the spring. The sun’s pale glow Is scarcely able to melt patches wide About the single rose bush. All denied Of nature’s tender ministries. But no, For wonder-working faith has made it blow With flowers many hued and […]...
37. The Timber Sure thou didst flourish once! and many springs, Many bright mornings, much dew, many showers, Pass’d o’er thy head; many light hearts and wings, Which now are dead, lodg’d in thy living bowers. And still a new succession sings and flies; Fresh groves grow up, and their green branches shoot Towards the old and still […]...
38. The Glass On The Bar Three bushmen one morning rode up to an inn, And one of them called for the drinks with a grin; They’d only returned from a trip to the North, And, eager to greet them, the landlord came forth. He absently poured out a glass of Three Star. And set down that drink with the rest […]...
39. The Silence of Love I COULD praise you once with beautiful words ere you came And entered my life with love in a wind of flame. I could lure with a song from afar my bird to its nest, But with pinions drooping together silence is best. In the land of beautiful silence the winds are laid, And life […]...
40. Number 8 It was a face which darkness could kill in an instant A face as easily hurt by laughter or light ‘We think differently at night’ she told me once Lying back languidly And she would quote Cocteau ‘I feel there is an angel in me’ she’d say ‘whom I am constantly shocking’ Then she would […]...