For John, Who Begs Me Not To Enquire Further

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1. More Than Myself Not that it was beautiful, But that, in the end, there was A certain sense of order there; Something worth learning In that narrow diary of my mind, In the commonplaces of the asylum Where the cracked mirror Or my own selfish death Outstared me. . . I tapped my own head; It was glass, […]...
2. John Cabanis Neither spite, fellow citizens, Nor forgetfulness of the shiftlessness, And the lawlessness and waste Under democracy’s rule in Spoon River Made me desert the party of law and order And lead the liberal party. Fellow citizens! I saw as one with second sight That every man of the millions of men Who give themselves to […]...
3. 77. Epitaph on John Dove, Innkeeper HERE lies Johnie Pigeon; What was his religion? Whae’er desires to ken, To some other warl’ Maun follow the carl, For here Johnie Pigeon had nane! Strong ale was ablution, Small beer persecution, A dram was memento mori; But a full-flowing bowl Was the saving his soul, And port was celestial glory....
4. The Burns Statue This Statue, I must confess, is magnificent to see, And I hope will long be appreciated by the people of Dundee; It has been beautifully made by Sir John Steell, And I hope the pangs of hunger he will never feel. This statue is most elegant in its design, And I hope will defy all […]...
5. AN EVENING WITH JOHN HEATH-STUBBS Alone in Sutton with Fynbos my orange cat A long weekend of wind and rain drowning The tumultuous flurry of mid-February blossom A surfeit of letters to work through, a mountain Of files to sort, some irritation at the thought Of travelling to Kentish Town alone when My mind was flooded with the mellifluous voice […]...
6. I, Too, Sing America I, too, sing America. I am the darker brother. They send me to eat in the kitchen When company comes, But I laugh, And eat well, And grow strong. Tomorrow, I’ll be at the table When company comes. Nobody’ll dare Say to me, “Eat in the kitchen,” Then. Besides, They’ll see how beautiful I am […]...
7. HERODIAS Daughter presenting to her Mother St. JOHN's Head in a Charger, also Painted by her self BEhold, dear Mother, who was late our Fear, Disarm’d and Harmless, I present you here; The Tongue ty’d up, that made all Jury quake, And which so often did our Greatness shake; No Terror sits upon his Awful Brow, Where Fierceness reign’d, there Calmness triumphs now; As Lovers use, he gazes on my Face, With […]...
8. Consorting With Angels I was tired of being a woman, Tired of the spoons and the post, Tired of my mouth and my breasts, Tired of the cosmetics and the silks. There were still men who sat at my table, Circled around the bowl I offered up. The bowl was filled with purple grapes And the flies hovered […]...
9. The Ships of Saint John Where are the ships I used to know, That came to port on the Fundy tide Half a century ago, In beauty and stately pride? In they would come past the beacon light, With the sun on gleaming sail and spar, Folding their wings like birds in flight From countries strange and far. Schooner and […]...
10. A Ballad of John Silver We were schooner-rigged and rakish, With a long and lissome hull, And we flew the pretty colours of the crossbones and the skull; We’d a big black Jolly Roger flapping grimly at the fore, And we sailed the Spanish Water in the happy days of yore. We’d a long brass gun amidships, like a well-conducted […]...
11. John Kinsella's Lament For Mrs. Mary Moore I A bloody and a sudden end, Gunshot or a noose, For Death who takes what man would keep, Leaves what man would lose. He might have had my sister, My cousins by the score, But nothing satisfied the fool But my dear Mary Moore, None other knows what pleasures man At table or in […]...
12. Spanish FASTEN black eyes on me. I ask nothing of you under the peach trees, Fasten your black eyes in my gray with the spear of a storm. The air under the peach blossoms is a haze of pink....
13. Travels With John Hunter We who travel between worlds Lose our muscle and bone. I was wheeling a barrow of earth When agony bayoneted me. I could not sit, or lie down, Or stand, in Casualty. Stomach-calming clay caked my lips, I turned yellow as the moon And slid inside a CAT-scan wheel In a hospital where I met […]...
14. TO HIS COY ONE SEEST thou yon smiling Orange? Upon the tree still hangs it; Already March bath vanish’d, And new-born flow’rs are shooting. I draw nigh to the tree then, And there I say: Oh Orange, Thou ripe and juicy Orange, Thou sweet and luscious Orange, I shake the tree, I shake it, Oh fall into my lap! […]...
15. The Late Sir John Ogilvy Alas! Sir John Ogilvy is dead, aged eighty-seven, But I hope his soul is now in heaven; For he was a generous-hearted gentleman I am sure, And, in particular, very kind unto the poor. He was a Christian gentleman in every degree, And, for many years, was an M. P. for Bonnie Dundee, And, while […]...
16. Testimony Regarding a Ghost THE ROSES slanted crimson sobs On the night sky hair of the women, And the long light-fingered men Spoke to the dark-haired women, “Nothing lovelier, nothing lovelier.” How could he sit there among us all Guzzling blood into his guts, Goblets, mugs, buckets- Leaning, toppling, laughing With a slobber on his mouth, A smear of […]...
17. John Brown Though for your sake I would not have you now So near to me tonight as now you are, God knows how much a stranger to my heart Was any cold word that I may have written; And you, poor woman that I made my wife, You have had more of loneliness, I fear, Than […]...
18. 320. Lines to Sir John Whitefoord, Bart THOU, who thy honour as thy God rever’st, Who, save thy mind’s reproach, nought earthly fear’st, To thee this votive offering I impart, The tearful tribute of a broken heart. The Friend thou valued’st, I, the Patron lov’d; His worth, his honour, all the world approved: We’ll mourn till we too go as he has […]...
19. The Marionettes Of Distant Masters A pianist dreams that he’s hired by a wrecking company to Ruin a piano with his fingers. . . On the day of the piano wrecking concert, as he’s Dressing, he notices a butterfly annoying a flower in his window Box. He wonders if the police should be called. Then he thinks Maybe the butterfly […]...
20. Glasgow Beautiful city of Glasgow, with your streets so neat and clean, Your stateley mansions, and beautiful Green! Likewise your beautiful bridges across the River Clyde, And on your bonnie banks I would like to reside. Chorus Then away to the west to the beautiful west! To the fair city of Glasgow that I like the […]...
21. Sonnet XXVI: I Ever Love To Despair I ever love where never hope appears, Yet hope draws on my never-hoping care, And my life’s hope would die, but for despair; My never-certain joy breeds ever-certain fears; Uncertain dread gives wings unto my hope, Yet my hope’s wings are laden so with fear As they cannot ascend to my hope’s sphere; […]...
22. 176. On the Death of John M'Leod, Esq SAD thy tale, thou idle page, And rueful thy alarms: Death tears the brother of her love From Isabella’s arms. Sweetly deckt with pearly dew The morning rose may blow; But cold successive noontide blasts May lay its beauties low. Fair on Isabella’s morn The sun propitious smil’d; But, long ere noon, succeeding clouds Succeeding […]...
23. Harvest Song I am a reaper whose muscles set at sundown. All my oats are cradled. But I am too chilled, and too fatigued to bind them. And I hunger. I crack a grain between my teeth. I do not taste it. I have been in the fields all day. My throat is dry. I hunger. My […]...
24. On John Dawson, Butler Of C. C Dawson the Butler’s dead: Although I think Poets were ne’er infusde with single drinke Ile spend a farthing muse; some watry verse Will serve the turne to cast upon his hearse; If any cannot weepe amongst us here Take off his pott, and so squeeze out a tear: Weepe, O his cheeses, weepe till yee […]...
25. John Rouat the Fisherman Margaret Simpson was the daughter of humble parents in the county of Ayr, With a comely figure, and face of beauty rare, And just in the full bloom of her womanhood, Was united to John Rouat, a fisherman good. John’s fortune consisted of his coble, three oars, and his fishing-gear, Besides his two stout boys, […]...
26. Paper Men To Air Hopes And Fears The first speaker said Fear fire. Fear furnaces Incinerators, the city dump The faint scratch of a match. The second speaker said Fear water. Fear drenching rain Drizzle, oceans, puddles, a damp Day and the flush toilet. The third speaker said Fear wind. And it needn’t be A hurricane. Drafts, open Windows, electric fans. The […]...
27. 350. Epistle to John Maxwell, Esq., of Terraughty HEALTH to the Maxwell’s veteran Chief! Health, aye unsour’d by care or grief: Inspir’d, I turn’d Fate’s sibyl leaf, This natal morn, I see thy life is stuff o’ prief, Scarce quite half-worn. This day thou metes threescore eleven, And I can tell that bounteous Heaven (The second-sight, ye ken, is given To ilka Poet) […]...
28. You Can Have It My brother comes home from work And climbs the stairs to our room. I can hear the bed groan and his shoes drop One by one. You can have it, he says. The moonlight streams in the window And his unshaven face is whitened Like the face of the moon. He will sleep Long after […]...
29. Bat His awful skin Stretched out by some tradesman Is like my skin, here between my fingers, A kind of webbing, a kind of frog. Surely when first born my face was this tiny And before I was born surely I could fly. Not well, mind you, only a veil of skin From my arms to […]...
30. Morning Poem Every morning The world Is created. Under the orange Sticks of the sun The heaped Ashes of the night Turn into leaves again And fasten themselves to the high branches – And the ponds appear Like black cloth On which are painted islands Of summer lilies. If it is your nature To be happy You […]...
31. Immortality In Sleeping Beauty’s castle The clock strikes one hundred years And the girl in the tower returns to the world. So do the servants in the kitchen, Who don’t even rub their eyes. The cook’s right hand, lifted An exact century ago, Completes its downward arc To the kitchen boy’s left ear; The boy’s tensed […]...
32. No, Thank You John I never said I loved you, John: Why will you tease me day by day, And wax a weariness to think upon With always “do” and “pray”? You Know I never loved you, John; No fault of mine made me your toast: Why will you haunt me with a face as wan As shows an […]...
33. Dream Song 37: Three around the Old Gentleman His malice was a pimple down his good Big face, with its sly eyes. I must be sorry Mr Frost has left: I like it so less I don’t understood— He couldn’t hear or see well—all we sift— But this is a bad story. He had fine stories and was another man In private; difficult, […]...
34. The Old General Little Annabelle to please, (Lacking grace, I grant), Grandpa down on hands and knees Plays the elephant. Annabelle shrieks with delight, Bouncing up and down, On his back and holding tight To his dressing gown. As they roll and bowl along, Round and round the room, There is sunshine and a song ‘Spite December gloom. […]...
35. The Rat Of Faith A blue jay poses on a stake Meant to support an apple tree Newly planted. A strong wind On this clear cold morning Barely ruffles his tail feathers. When he turns his attention Toward me, I face his eyes Without blinking. A week ago My wife called me to come see This same bird chase […]...
36. Castile Orange blossoms blowing over Castile Children begging for coins I met my love under an orange tree Or was it an acacia tree Or was he not my love? I read this, then I dreamed this: Can waking take back what happened to me? Bells of San Miguel Ringing in the distance His hair in […]...
37. The British Church I joy, dear mother, when I view Thy perfect lineaments, and hue Both sweet and bright. Beauty in thee takes up her place, And dates her letters from thy face, When she doth write. A fine aspect in fit array, Neither too mean nor yet too gay, Shows who is best. Outlandish looks may not […]...
38. The Addict Sleepmonger, Deathmonger, With capsules in my palms each night, Eight at a time from sweet pharmaceutical bottles I make arrangements for a pint-sized journey. I’m the queen of this condition. I’m an expert on making the trip And now they say I’m an addict. Now they ask why. WHY! Don’t they know that I promised […]...
39. Adonais: An Elegy on the Death of John Keats I weep for Adonais he is dead! Oh, weep for Adonais! though our tears Thaw not the frost which binds so dear a head! And thou, sad Hour, selected from all years To mourn our loss, rouse thy obscure compeers, And teach them thine own sorrow, say: “With me Died Adonais; till the Future dares […]...
40. Any Night Look, the eucalyptus, the Atlas pine, The yellowing ash, all the trees Are gone, and I was older than All of them. I am older than the moon, Than the stars that fill my plate, Than the unseen planets that huddle Together here at the end of a year No one wanted. A year more […]...