Obsessive Combination Of Onotological Inscape, Trickery And Love

Related poetry:

1. Love and Life All my past life is mine no more, The flying hours are gone, Like transitory dreams giv’n o’er, Whose images are kept in store By memory alone. The time that is to come is not; How can it then be mine? The present moment’s all my lot; And that, as fast as it is got, […]...
2. An Almost Made Up Poem I see you drinking at a fountain with tiny Blue hands, no, your hands are not tiny They are small, and the fountain is in France Where you wrote me that last letter and I answered and never heard from you again. You used to write insane poems about ANGELS AND GOD, all in upper […]...
3. Waiting For The Miracle (co-written by Sharon Robinson) Baby, I’ve been waiting, I’ve been waiting night and day. I didn’t see the time, I waited half my life away. There were lots of invitations And I know you sent me some, But I was waiting For the miracle, for the miracle to come. I know you really loved me. […]...
4. Other Lives And Dimensions And Finally A Love Poem My left hand will live longer than my right. The rivers of my palms tell me so. Never argue with rivers. Never expect your lives to finish at the same time. I think Praying, I think clapping is how hands mourn. I think staying up and waiting For paintings to sigh is science. In another […]...
5. Farewell Love and All Thy Laws Forever Farewell love and all thy laws forever; Thy baited hooks shall tangle me no more. Senec and Plato call me from thy lore To perfect wealth, my wit for to endeavour. In blind error when I did persever, Thy sharp repulse, that pricketh aye so sore, Hath taught me to set in trifles no store […]...
6. 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; […]...
7. A Suggestion As I go and shop, sir! If a car I stop, sir! Where you chance to sit, And you want to read, sir! Never mind or heed, sir! I’ll not care a bit. For it’s now aesthetic To be quite athletic. That’s our fad, you know. I can hold the strap, sir! And keep off […]...
8. 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 […]...
9. Immortal love, forever full Immortal love, forever full, Forever flowing free, Forever shared, forever whole, A never ebbing sea! Our outward lips confess the name All other names above; Love only knoweth whence it came, And comprehendeth love. Blow, winds of God, awake and blow The mists of earth away: Shine out, O Light divine, and show How wide […]...
10. Love Song Once in the world’s first prime, When nothing lived or stirred, Nothing but new-born Time, Nor was there even a bird – The Silence spoke to a Star, But do not dare repeat What it said to its love afar: It was too sweet, too sweet. But there, in the fair world’s youth, Ere sorrow […]...
11. After Love There is no magic any more, We meet as other people do, You work no miracle for me Nor I for you. You were the wind and I the sea There is no splendor any more, I have grown listless as the pool Beside the shore. But though the pool is safe from storm And […]...
12. Of Love & Sex said once a friend of mine That love was just a bucket of bullshit; then I Thought about his parents Wrote once a neighbour poet That sex was a thing overrated; so I Asked for her other poems...
13. A Spring Piece Left In The Middle Taut, thick fingers punch The teeth of my typewriter. Three words are down on paper in capitals: SPRING SPRING SPRING… And me poet, proofreader, The man who’s forced to read Two thousand bad lines every day for two liras Why, since spring has come, am I still sitting here like a ragged black chair? My […]...
14. Our Pote A pote is sure a goofy guy; He ain’t got guts like you or I To tell the score; He ain’t goy gumption ’nuff to know The game of life’s to get the dough, Then get some more. Take Brother Bill, he used to be The big shot of the family, The first at school; […]...
15. 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 […]...
16. "I Love You Sweatheart&quot A man risked his life to write the words. A man hung upside down (an idiot friend Holding his legs?) with spray paint To write the words on a girder fifty feet above A highway. And his beloved, The next morning driving to work…? His words are not (meant to be) so unique. Does she […]...
17. Good Friday O my chief good, How shall I measure out thy blood? How shall I count what thee befell, And each grief tell? Shall I thy woes Number according to thy foes? Or, since one star show’d thy first breath, Shall all thy death? Or shall each leaf, Which falls in Autumn, score a grief? Or […]...
18. Carbonara eyes Nicky said I couldn’t write, she’s got a charming Sense of social etiquette – given she’s a bitch (the canine sort, can’t spell for shit or even write A word) but then she has the most expressive eyes. So what she said was no surprise, she’d heard My lamentations, licked my hands, rested forepaws On […]...
19. Amoretti LXXV: One Day I Wrote Her Name One day I wrote her name upon the strand, But came the waves and washed it away: Again I wrote it with a second hand, But came the tide, and made my pains his prey. “Vain man,” said she, “that dost in vain assay, A mortal thing so to immortalize; For I myself shall like […]...
20. O Love, Sweet Animal O Love, dark animal, With your strangeness go Like any freak or clown: Appease tee child in her Because she is alone Many years ago Terrified by a look Which was not meant for her. Brush your heavy fur Against her, long and slow Stare at her like a book, Her interests being such No […]...
21. Bricklayer Love I THOUGHT of killing myself because I am only a bricklayer and you a woman who loves the man who runs a drug store. I don’t care like I used to; I lay bricks straighter than I used to and I sing slower handling the trowel afternoons....
22. 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 […]...
23. There Are Not Many Kingdoms Left I write the lips of the moon upon her shoulders. In a Temple of silvery farawayness I guard her to rest. For her bed I write a stillness over all the swans of the World. With the morning breath of the snow leopard I Cover her against any hurt. Using the pen of rivers and […]...
24. Some Advice To Those Who Will Serve Time In Prison If instead of being hanged by the neck you’re thrown inside for not giving up hope In the world, your country, your people, if you do ten or fifteen years apart from the time you have left, You won’t say, “Better I had swung from the end of a rope like a flag” You’ll put […]...
25. You love the Lord you cannot see You love the Lord you cannot see You write Him every day A little note when you awake And further in the Day. An Ample Letter How you miss And would delight to see But then His House is but a Step And Mine’s in Heaven You see....
26. Late Love How they strut about, people in love, How tall they grow, pleased with themselves, Their hair, glossy, their skin shining. They don’t remember who they have been. How filmic they are just for this time. How important they’ve become – secret, above The order of things, the dreary mundane. Every church bell ringing, a fresh […]...
27. A Miracle For Breakfast At six o’clock we were waiting for coffee, Waiting for coffee and the charitable crumb That was going to be served from a certain balcony -like kings of old, or like a miracle. It was still dark. One foot of the sun Steadied itself on a long ripple in the river. The first ferry of […]...
28. ABOUT LOVE FOR BARBARIANS The opposite seeks the opposite And the drop of black Grows within white Until turning white into black And conversely the drop becomes white We all want the opposite Which incarnates in front of you Once in a while And brings its exotic religion its idea of the subject Its distractions its apparent cruelty The […]...
29. Memorial To D. C (Vassar College, 1918) O, loveliest throat of all sweet throats, Where now no more the music is, With hands that wrote you little notes I write you little elegies!...
30. Pigtail When all the women in the transport Had their heads shaved Four workmen with brooms made of birch twigs Swept up And gathered up the hair Behind clean glass The stiff hair lies Of those suffocated in gas chambers There are pins and side combs In this hair The hair is not shot through with […]...
31. Love Again Love again: wanking at ten past three (Surely he’s taken her home by now?), The bedroom hot as a bakery, The drink gone dead, without showing how To meet tomorrow, and afterwards, And the usual pain, like dysentery. Someone else feeling her breasts and cunt, Someone else drowned in that lash-wide stare, And me supposed […]...
32. All My Past Life All my past life is mine no more, The flying hours are gone, Like transitory dreams given o’er, Whose images are kept in store By memory alone. What ever is to come is not, How can it then be mine? The present moment’s all my lot, And that as fast as it is got, Phyllis, […]...
33. Sonnet XXXV: Some, Misbelieving To Miracle Some, misbelieving and profane in love, When I do speak of miracles by thee, May say, that thou art flattered by me, Who only write my skill in verse to prove. See miracles, ye unbelieving, see A dumb-born Muse made t’express the mind, A cripple hand to write, yet lame by kind, One […]...
34. Style Flaubert wanted to write a novel About nothing. It was to have no subject And be sustained upon the style alone, Like the Holy Ghost cruising above The abyss, or like the little animals In Disney cartoons who stand upon a branch That breaks, but do not fall Till they look down. He never wrote […]...
35. Miracles Each time that I switch on the light A Miracle it seems to me That I should rediscover sight And banish dark so utterly. One moment I am bleakly blind, The next exultant life I find. Below the sable of the sky My eyelids double darkness make. Sleep is divine, yet oh how I Am […]...
36. 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 […]...
37. Christmas Eve Oh sharp diamond, my mother! I could not count the cost Of all your faces, your moods That present that I lost. Sweet girl, my deathbed, My jewel-fingered lady, Your portrait flickered all night By the bulbs of the tree. Your face as calm as the moon Over a mannered sea, Presided at the family […]...
38. 190. Song-Lady Onlie, Honest Luckie A’ THE lads o’ Thorniebank, When they gae to the shore o’ Bucky, They’ll step in an’ tak a pint Wi’ Lady Onlie, honest Lucky. Chorus.-Lady Onlie, honest Lucky, Brews gude ale at shore o’ Bucky; I wish her sale for her gude ale, The best on a’ the shore o’ Bucky. Her house sae […]...
39. Modern Love XV: I Think She Sleeps I think she sleeps: it must be sleep, when low Hangs that abandoned arm toward the floor; The face turned with it. Now make fast the door. Sleep on: it is your husband, not your foe. The Poet’s black stage-lion of wronged love, Frights not our modern dames: well if he did! Now will I […]...
40. LOVE DISLIKES NOTHING Whatsoever thing I see, Rich or poor although it be, ‘Tis a mistress unto me. Be my girl or fair or brown, Does she smile, or does she frown; Still I write a sweet-heart down. Be she rough, or smooth of skin; When I touch, I then begin For to let affection in. Be she […]...