Lying in me

Related poetry:

1. A Field of Stubble, lying sere A Field of Stubble, lying sere Beneath the second Sun Its Toils to Brindled People thrust Its Triumphs to the Bin Accosted by a timid Bird Irresolute of Alms Is often seen but seldom felt, On our New England Farms...
2. Poetry Is A Kind Of Lying Poetry is a kind of lying, Necessarily. To profit the poet Or beauty. But also in That truth may be told only so. Those who, admirably, refuse To falsify (as those who will not Risk pretensions) are excluded From saying even so much. Degas said he didn’t paint What he saw, but what Would enable […]...
3. On Your Midnight Pallet Lying On your midnight pallet lying, Listen, and undo the door: Lads that waste the light in sighing In the dark should sigh no more; Night should ease a lover’s sorrow; Therefore, since I go to-morrow, Pity me before. In the land to which I travel, The far dwelling, let me say Once, if here the […]...
4. Lying Down To the right, the sky, to the left, the sea. And before your eyes, the grass and its flowers. A cloud, the road, follows its vertical way Parallel to the plumb line of the horizon, Parallel to the rider. The horse races towards its imminent fall And the other climbs interminably. How simple and strange […]...
5. Sonnet 154: The little Love-god lying once asleep The little love god lying once asleep Laid by his side his heart-inflaming brand, Whilst many nymphs that vowed chaste life to keep Came tripping by; but in her maiden hand, The fairest votary took up that fire Which many legions of true hearts had warmed, And so the general of hot desire Was sleeping […]...
6. 16-bit Intel 8088 chip with an Apple Macintosh You can’t run Radio Shack programs In its disc drive. Nor can a Commodore 64 Drive read a file You have created on an IBM Personal Computer. Both Kaypro and Osborne computers use The CP/M operating system But can’t read each other’s Handwriting For they format (write On) discs in different […]...
7. Lying In Grass Is this everything now, the quick delusions of flowers, And the down colors of the bright summer meadow, The soft blue spread of heaven, the bees’ song, Is this everything only a god’s Groaning dream, The cry of unconscious powers for deliverance? The distant line of the mountain, That beautifully and courageously rests in the […]...
8. Against Lying O ’tis a lovely thing for youth To early walk in wisdom’s way; To fear a lie, to speak the truth, That we may trust to all they say! But liars we can never trust, Even when they say what is true. And he who does one fault at first And lies to hide it, […]...
9. Cacoethes Scribendi If all the trees in all the woods were men; And each and every blade of grass a pen; If every leaf on every shrub and tree Turned to a sheet of foolscap; every sea Were changed to ink, and all earth’s living tribes Had nothing else to do but act as scribes, And for […]...
10. The Verdicts Not in the thick of the fight, Not in the press of the odds, Do the heroes come to their height, Or we know the demi-gods. That stands over till peace. We can only perceive Men returned from the seas, Very grateful for leave. They grant us sudden days Snatched from their business of war; […]...
11. Give All To Love Give all to love; Obey thy heart; Friends, kindred, days, Estate, good fame, Plans, credit, and the muse; Nothing refuse. ‘Tis a brave master, Let it have scope, Follow it utterly, Hope beyond hope; High and more high, It dives into noon, With wing unspent, Untold intent; But ’tis a god, Knows its own path, […]...
12. Lying In A Hammock At William Duffy's Farm In Pine Island, Minnesota Over my head, I see the bronze butterfly, Asleep on the black trunk, Blowing like a leaf in green shadow. Down the ravine behind the empty house, The cowbells follow one another Into the distances of the afternoon. To my right, In a field of sunlight between two pines, The droppings of last year’s horses […]...
13. There is a Languor of the Life There is a Languor of the Life More imminent than Pain ‘Tis Pain’s Successor When the Soul Has suffered all it can A Drowsiness diffuses A Dimness like a Fog Envelops Consciousness As Mists obliterate a Crag. The Surgeon does not blanch at pain His Habit is severe But tell him that it ceased to […]...
14. Lines in Praise of Tommy Atkins Success to Tommy Atkins, he’s a very brave man, And to deny it there’s few people can; And to face his foreign foes he’s never afraid, Therefore he’s not a beggar, as Rudyard Kipling has said. No, he’s paid by our Government, and is worthy of his hire; And from our shores in time of […]...
15. I never hear that one is dead I never hear that one is dead Without the chance of Life Afresh annihilating me That mightiest Belief, Too mighty for the Daily mind That tilling its abyss, Had Madness, had it once or twice The yawning Consciousness, Beliefs are Bandaged, like the Tongue When Terror were it told In any Tone commensurate Would strike […]...
16. Poor Poet ‘A man should write to please himself,’ He proudly said. Well, see his poems on the shelf, Dusty, unread. When he came to my shop each day, So peaked and cold, I’d sneak one of his books away And say ’twas sold. And then by chance he looked below, And saw a stack Of his […]...
17. Trickle, Drops TRICKLE, drops! my blue veins leaving! O drops of me! trickle, slow drops, Candid, from me falling-drip, bleeding drops, From wounds made to free you whence you were prison’d, From my face-from my forehead and lips, From my breast-from within where I was conceal’d-press forth, red drops-confession drops; Stain every page-stain every song I sing, […]...
18. Cassandra The mad girl with the staring eyes and long white fingers Hooked in the stones of the wall, The storm-wrack hair and screeching mouth: does it matter, Cassandra, Whether the people believe Your bitter fountain? Truly men hate the truth, they’d liefer Meet a tiger on the road. Therefore the poets honey their truth with […]...
19. THE INVISIBLE BRIDE THE low-voiced girls that go In gardens of the Lord, Like flowers of the field they grow In sisterly accord. Their whispering feet are white Along the leafy ways; They go in whirls of light Too beautiful for praise. And in their band forsooth Is one to set me free The one that touched my […]...
20. A Child of the Snows There is heard a hymn when the panes are dim, And never before or again, When the nights are strong with a darkness long, And the dark is alive with rain. Never we know but in sleet and in snow, The place where the great fires are, That the midst of the earth is a […]...
21. Tortures Nothing has changed. The body is susceptible to pain, It must eat and breathe air and sleep, It has thin skin and blood right underneath, An adequate stock of teeth and nails, Its bones are breakable, its joints are stretchable. In tortures all this is taken into account. Nothing has changed. The body shudders as […]...
22. Change Upon Change Five months ago the stream did flow, The lilies bloomed within the sedge, And we were lingering to and fro, Where none will track thee in this snow, Along the stream, beside the hedge. Ah, Sweet, be free to love and go! For if I do not hear thy foot, The frozen river is as […]...
23. Thought Thought, I love thought. But not the juggling and twisting of already existent ideas I despise that self-important game. Thought is the welling up of unknown life into consciousness, Thought is the testing of statements on the touchstone of consciousness, Thought is gazing onto the face of life, and reading what can be read, Thought […]...
24. If It Is True What the Prophets Write If it is true, what the Prophets write, That the heathen gods are all stocks and stones, Shall we, for the sake of being polite, Feed them with the juice of our marrow-bones? And if Bezaleel and Aholiab drew What the finger of God pointed to their view, Shall we suffer the Roman and Grecian […]...
25. Poem (Faithful to your commands, o consciousness) Poem Faithful to your commands, o consciousness, o Beating wings, I studied The roses and the muses of reality, The deceptions and the deceptive elation of the redness of the growing morning, And all the greened and thomed variety of the vines of error, which begin by promising Everything and more than everything, and then […]...
26. John Horace Burleson I won the prize essay at school Here in the village, And published a novel before I was twenty-five. I went to the city for themes and to enrich my art; There married the banker’s daughter, And later became president of the bank- Always looking forward to some leisure To write an epic novel of […]...
27. Unlyric Love Song It is time to give that-of-myself which I could not at first: To offer you now at last my least and my worst: Minor, absurd preserves, The shell’s end-curves, A document kept at the back of a drawer, A tin hidden under the floor, Recalcitrant prides and hesitations: To pile them carefully in a desparate […]...
28. Nantucket Flowers through the window Lavender and yellow Changed by white curtains- Smell of cleanliness- Sunshine of late afternoon- On the glass tray A glass pitcher, the tumbler Turned down, by which A key is lying – And the Immaculate white bed...
29. Enoch Dunlap How many times, during the twenty years I was your leader, friends of Spoon River, Did you neglect the convention and caucus, And leave the burden on my hands Of guarding and saving the people’s cause? Sometimes because you were ill; Or your grandmother was ill; Or you drank too much and fell asleep; Or […]...
30. Natural Theology Primitive I ate my fill of a whale that died And stranded after a month at sea. . . . There is a pain in my inside. Why have the Gods afflicted me? Ow! I am purged till I am a wraith! Wow! I am sick till I cannot see! What is the sense of […]...
31. 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 […]...
32. Manufactured Gods THEY put up big wooden gods. Then they burned the big wooden gods And put up brass gods and Changing their minds suddenly Knocked down the brass gods and put up A doughface god with gold earrings. The poor mutts, the pathetic slant heads, They didn’t know a little tin god Is as good as […]...
33. Birthday (16th January 1949) I thank whatever gods may be For all the happiness that’s mine; That I am festive, fit and free To savour women, wit and wine; That I may game of golf enjoy, And have a formidable drive: In short, that I’m a gay old boy Though I be Seventy-and-five. My daughter thinks. […]...
34. Leaving and Leaving You When I leave you postcode and your commuting station, When I left undone all the things we planned to do You may feel you have been left by association But there is leaving and leaving you. When I leave your town and the club that you belong to, When I leave without much warning or […]...
35. Pasa Thalassa Thalassa “The sea is everywhere the sea.” I Gone-faded out of the story, the sea-faring friend I remember? Gone for a decade, they say: never a word or a sign. Gone with his hard red face that only his laughter could wrinkle, Down where men go to be still, by the old way of the sea. […]...
36. Maya Through an ascending emptiness of night, Leaving the flesh and complacent mind Together in their suffciency behind, The soul of man went up to a far height; And where those others would have had no sight Or sense of else than terror for the blind, Soul met the Will, and was again consigned To the […]...
37. The Moon Versus Us Ever Sleeping Together Again I sit here, an arch-villain of romance, Thinking about you. Gee, I’m sorry I made you unhappy, but there was nothing I could do about it because I have to be free. Perhaps everything would have been different If you had stayed at the table or asked me To go out with you to look […]...
38. Feelings There must be a wound! No one can be this hurt And not bleed. How could she injure me so? No marks No bruise Worse! People say ‘My, you’re looking well’ …..God help me! She’s mummified me – ALIVE!...
39. In Memory Of My Mother I do not think of you lying in the wet clay Of a Monaghan graveyard; I see You walking down a lane among the poplars On your way to the station, or happily Going to second Mass on a summer Sunday You meet me and you say: ‘Don’t forget to see about the cattle ‘ […]...
40. The Last Unicorn The last unicorn was never free To chose another ending, The plaintive melody entrained With sweet orchestral strains Describing it was sundered in A soured rendition of Our heaven’s harsh dominion. We were never set to let her free From facile bonds, we fondly loved Mythology too much to let her go And kept her […]...