Not What Was Meant

Related poetry:

1. Freedom on the Wallaby Australia’s a big country An’ Freedom’s humping bluey, An’ Freedom’s on the wallaby Oh! don’t you hear ‘er cooey? She’s just begun to boomerang, She’ll knock the tyrants silly, She’s goin’ to light another fire And boil another billy. Our fathers toiled for bitter bread While loafers thrived beside ’em, But food to eat and […]...
2. 366. Song-The weary Pund o' Tow Chorus.-The weary pund, the weary pund, The weary pund o’ tow; I think my wife will end her life, Before she spin her tow. I BOUGHT my wife a stane o’ lint, As gude as e’er did grow, And a’ that she has made o’ that Is ae puir pund o’ tow. The weary pund, […]...
3. The bottle tree A bottle tree bloometh in Winkyway land – Heigh-ho for a bottle, I say! A snug little berth in that ship I demand That rocketh the Bottle-Tree babies away Where the Bottle Tree bloometh by night and by day And reacheth its fruit to each wee, dimpled hand; You take of that fruit as much […]...
4. I meant to have but modest needs I meant to have but modest needs Such as Content and Heaven Within my income these could lie And Life and I keep even But since the last included both It would suffice my Prayer But just for One to stipulate And Grace would grant the Pair And so upon this wise I prayed Great […]...
5. I meant to find Her when I came I meant to find Her when I came Death had the same design But the Success was His it seems And the Surrender Mine I meant to tell Her how I longed For just this single time But Death had told Her so the first And she had past, with Him To wander now is […]...
6. The Spirit Medium Poetry, music, I have loved, and yet Because of those new dead That come into my soul and escape Confusion of the bed, Or those begotten or unbegotten Perning in a band, I bend my body to the spade Or grope with a dirty hand. Or those begotten or unbegotten, For I would not recall […]...
7. The Lockless Door It went many years, But at last came a knock, And I though of the door With no lock to lock. I blew out the light, I tip-toed the floor, And raised both hands In prayer to the door. But the knock came again. My window was wide; I climbed on the sill And descended […]...
8. New Mexico I was fairly drunk when it Began and I took out my bottle and used it Along the way. I was reading a week or two after Kandel and I did not look quite as Pretty but I brought it off and we Ended up at the Webbs, 6, 8, 10 of Us, and I […]...
9. You Asked How (formerly Even Now She Is Turning, Saying Everything I Always Wanted Her to Say) At the end there were straws In her glove compartment, I’d split them open To taste the familiar bitter residue, near the end I ate all her Percodans, hungry to know How far they could take me. A bottle of red wine each night moved her along As she wrote, I feel too much, again […]...
10. The Legend Of The One-Eyed Man Like Oedipus I am losing my sight. LIke Judas I have done my wrong. Their punishment is over; The shame and disgrace of it Are all used up. But as for me, Look into my face And you will know that crimes dropped upon me As from a high building And although I cannot speak […]...
11. Libertatis Sacra Fames Albeit nurtured in democracy, And liking best that state republican Where every man is Kinglike and no man Is crowned above his fellows, yet I see, Spite of this modern fret for Liberty, Better the rule of One, whom all obey, Than to let clamorous demagogues betray Our freedom with the kiss of anarchy. Wherefore […]...
12. Freedom XIV And an orator said, “Speak to us of Freedom.” And he answered: At the city gate and by your fireside I have seen you prostrate yourself and worship your own freedom, Even as slaves humble themselves before a tyrant and praise him though he slays them. Ay, in the grove of the temple and in […]...
13. Always Unsuitable She wore little teeth of pearls around her neck. They were grinning politely and evenly at me. Unsuitable they smirked. It is true I look a stuffed turkey in a suit. Breasts Too big for the silhouette. She knew At once that we had sex, lots of it As if I had strolled into her […]...
14. Symptoms of Love Love is universal migraine, A bright stain on the vision Blotting out reason. Symptoms of true love Are leanness, jealousy, Laggard dawns; Are omens and nightmares – Listening for a knock, Waiting for a sign: For a touch of her fingers In a darkened room, For a searching look. Take courage, lover! Could you endure […]...
15. Parting We embrace. Rich cloth under my fingers While yours touch poor fabric. A quick embrace You were invited for dinner While the minions of law are after me. We talk about the weather and our Lasting friendship. Anything else Would be too bitter....
16. Ballade Of A Great Weariness There’s little to have but the things I had, There’s little to bear but the things I bore. There’s nothing to carry and naught to add, And glory to Heaven, I paid the score. There’s little to do but I did before, There’s little to learn but the things I know; And this is the […]...
17. 24. Song-No Churchman am I NO churchman am I for to rail and to write, No statesman nor soldier to plot or to fight, No sly man of business contriving a snare, For a big-belly’d bottle’s the whole of my care. The peer I don’t envy, I give him his bow; I scorn not the peasant, though ever so low; […]...
18. Bottle 'O&#039 I ain’t the kind of bloke as takes to any steady job; I drives me bottle cart around the town; A bloke what keeps ‘is eyes about can always make a bob I couldn’t bear to graft for every brown. There’s lots of handy things about in everybody’s yard, There’s cocks and hens a-runnin’ to […]...
19. An Apology for the Bottle Volcanic Sometimes I dip my pen and find the bottle full of fire, The salamanders flying forth I cannot but admire. It’s Etna, or Vesuvius, if those big things were small, And then ’tis but itself again, and does not smoke at all. And so my blood grows cold. I say, “The bottle held but ink, […]...
20. As if I asked a common Alms As if I asked a common Alms, And in my wondering hand A Stranger pressed a Kingdom, And I, bewildered, stand As if I asked the Orient Had it for me a Morn And it should lift its purple Dikes, And shatter me with Dawn!...
21. The Meehoo with an Exactlywatt Knock knock! Who’s there? Me! Me who? That’s right! What’s right? Meehoo! That’s what I want to know! What’s what you want to know? Me, WHO? Yes, exactly! Exactly what? Yes, I have an Exactlywatt on a chain! Exactly what on a chain? Yes! Yes what? No, Exactlywatt! That’s what I want to know! I […]...
22. Another Awkward Stage Of Convalescence Drunk, I kissed the moon Where it stretched on the floor. I’d removed happiness from a green bottle, Both sipped and gulped Just as a river changes its mind, Mostly there was a flood in my mouth Because I wanted to love the toaster As soon as possible, and the toothbrush With multi-level brissels Created […]...
23. Now Art Has Lost Its Mental Charms ‘Now Art has lost its mental charms France shall subdue the world in arms.’ So spoke an Angel at my birth; Then said ‘Descend thou upon earth, Renew the Arts on Britain’s shore, And France shall fall down and adore. With works of art their armies meet And War shall sink beneath thy feet. But […]...
24. To Promise Is One Thing To Keep It, Another JOHN courts Perrette; but all in vain; Love’s sweetest oaths, and tears, and sighs All potent spells her heart to gain The ardent lover vainly tries: Fruitless his arts to make her waver, She will not grant the smallest favour: A ruse our youth resolved to try The cruel air to mollify: Holding his fingers […]...
25. Filling Station Oh, but it is dirty! this little filling station, Oil-soaked, oil-permeated To a disturbing, over-all Black translucency. Be careful with that match! Father wears a dirty, Oil-soaked monkey suit That cuts him under the arms, And several quick and saucy And greasy sons assist him (it’s a family filling station), All quite thoroughly dirty. Do […]...
26. Freedom What freeman knoweth freedom? Never he Whose father’s father through long lives have reigned O’er kingdoms which mere heritage attained. Though from his youth to age he roam as free As winds, he dreams not freedom’s ecstacy. But he whose birth was in a nation chained For centuries; where every breath was drained From breasts […]...
27. Bearhug Griffin calls to come and kiss him goodnight I yell ok. Finish something I’m doing, Then something else, walk slowly round The corner to my son’s room. He is standing arms outstretched Waiting for a bearhug. Grinning. Why do I give my emotion an animal’s name, Give it that dark squeeze of death? This is […]...
28. The Stupid Jerk I’m Obsessed With The stupid jerk I’m obsessed with Stands so close to me I can feel his breath On my neck And smell The way he would smell If we slept together Because he is the stupid jerk I’m obsessed with And that is his primary function in life To be a stupid jerk I can obsess […]...
29. The Long-Nosed Fair Once on a time I fair Dorinda kiss’d, Whose nose was too distinguish’d to be miss’d; My dear, says I, I fain would kiss you closer, But tho’ your lips say aye your nose says, no, Sir. The maid was equally to fun inclin’d, And plac’d her lovely lily-hand behind; Here, swain, she cry’d, may’st […]...
30. The Lady's Third Song When you and my true lover meet And he plays tunes between your feet. Speak no evil of the soul, Nor think that body is the whole, For I that am his daylight lady Know worse evil of the body; But in honour split his love Till either neither have enough, That I may hear […]...
31. Jealousy When I see you, who were so wise and cool, Gazing with silly sickness on that fool You’ve given your love to, your adoring hands Touch his so intimately that each understands, I know, most hidden things; and when I know Your holiest dreams yield to the stupid bow Of his red lips, and that […]...
32. Mae Marsh, Motion Picture Actress I The arts are old, old as the stones From which man carved the sphinx austere. Deep are the days the old arts bring: Ten thousand years of yesteryear. II She is madonna in an art As wild and young as her sweet eyes: A frail dew flower from this hot lamp That is today’s […]...
33. A Sad State Of Freedom You waste the attention of your eyes, The glittering labour of your hands, And knead the dough enough for dozens of loaves Of which you’ll taste not a morsel; You are free to slave for others You are free to make the rich richer. The moment you’re born They plant around you Mills that grind […]...
34. How M'Ginnis went missing Let us cease our idle chatter, Let the tears bedew our cheek, For a man from Tallangatta Has been missing for a week. Where the roaring flooded Murray Covered all the lower land, There he started in a hurry, With a bottle in his hand. And his fate is hid for ever, But the public […]...
35. To A Ten-Months' Child Late arrival, no One would think of blaming you For hesitating so. Who, setting his hand to knock At a door so strange as this one, Might not draw back?...
36. Democracy Democracy will not come Today, this year Nor ever Through compromise and fear. I have as much right As the other fellow has To stand On my two feet And own the land. I tire so of hearing people say, Let things take their course. Tomorrow is another day. I do not need my freedom […]...
37. Cosmopolities without a plea Cosmopolities without a plea Alight in every Land The compliments of Paradise From those within my Hand Their dappled Journey to themselves A compensation fair Knock and it shall be opened Is their Theology...
38. Oh, Oh, You Will Be Sorry Oh, oh, you will be sorry for that word! Give me back my book and take my kiss instead. Was it my enemy or my friend I heard, “What a big book for such a little head!” Come, I will show you now my newest hat, And you may watch me purse my mouth and […]...
39. A Prisoner in a Dungeon Deep A prisoner in a dungeon deep Sat musing silently; His head was rested on his hand, His elbow on his knee. Turned he his thoughts to future times Or are they backward cast? For freedom is he pining now Or mourning for the past? No, he has lived so long enthralled Alone in dungeon gloom […]...
40. Blindness OUR true hearts are forever lonely: A wistfulness is in our thought: Our lights are like the dawns which only Seem bright to us and yet are not. Something you see in me I wis not: Another heart in you I guess: A stranger’s lips-but thine I kiss not, Erring in all my tenderness. I […]...