I Chop Some Parsley While Listening To Art Blakey's Version Of "Three Blind Mice&quot

Related poetry:

1. The Sorrows of the Blind Pity the sorrows of the poor blind, For they can but little comfort find; As they walk along the street, They know not where to put their feet. They are deprived of that earthly joy Of seeing either man, woman, or boy; Sad and lonely through the world they go, Not knowing a friend from […]...
2. Blind Bartimeus Blind Bartimeus at the gates Of Jericho in darkness waits; He hears the crowd; he hears a breath Say, “It is Christ of Nazareth!” And calls, in tones of agony, The thronging multitudes increase; Blind Bartimeus, hold thy peace! But still, above the noisy crowd, The beggar’s cry is shrill and loud; Until they say, […]...
3. Blind Man's Buff When silver snow decks Susan’s clothes, And jewel hangs at th’ shepherd’s nose, The blushing bank is all my care, With hearth so red, and walls so fair; ‘Heap the sea-coal, come, heap it higher, The oaken log lay on the fire.’ The well-wash’d stools, a circling row, With lad and lass, how fair the […]...
4. Two Blind Men Two blind men met. Said one: “This earth Has been a blackout from my birth. Through darkness I have groped my way, Forlorn, unknowing night from day. But you – though War destroyed your sight, Still have your memories of Light, And to allay your present pain Can live your golden youth again.” Then said […]...
5. Man Listening To Disc This is not bad Ambling along 44th Street With Sonny Rollins for company, His music flowing through the soft calipers Of these earphones, As if he were right beside me On this clear day in March, The pavement sparkling with sunlight, Pigeons fluttering off the curb, Nodding over a profusion of bread crumbs. In fact, […]...
6. Blind Jack I had fiddled all day at the county fair. But driving home “Butch” Weldy and Jack McGuire, Who were roaring full, made me fiddle and fiddle To the song of Susie Skinner, while whipping the horses Till they ran away. Blind as I was, I tried to get out As the carriage fell in the […]...
7. Sonnet 137: Thou blind fool, Love, what dost thou to mine eyes Thou blind fool, Love, what dost thou to mine eyes That they behold and see not what they see? They know what beauty is, see where it lies, Yet what the best is, take the worst to be. If eyes corrupt by overpartial looks, Be anchored in the bay where all men ride, Why of […]...
8. My White Mouse At dusk I saw a craintive mouse That sneaked and stole around the house; At first I took it for a ghost, For it was snowy white – almost. I’ve seen them in captivity, But this white mouse was wild and free, And every eye with stealth it stole And foraged in the garbage hole. […]...
9. Missing Has anybody seen my mouse? I opened his box for half a minute, Just to make sure he was really in it, And while I was looking, he jumped outside! I tried to catch him, I tried, I tried…. I think he’s somewhere about the house. Has anyone seen my mouse? Uncle John, have you […]...
10. Blind It’s okay if the world goes with Venetian; Who cares what Italians don’t see? Or with Man’s Bluff (a temporary problem Healed by shrieks and cheating) or with date: Three hours of squirming repaid by laughs for years. But when an old woman, already deaf, Wakes from a night of headaches, and the dark Won’t […]...
11. A Baby In The House I knew that a baby was hid in that house, Though I saw no cradle and heard no cry; But the husband was tip-toeing ’round like a mouse, And the good wife was humming a soft lullaby; And there was a look on the face of the mother, That I knew could mean only one […]...
12. Thou Blind Man's Mark Thou blind man’s mark, thou fool’s self chosen snare, Fond fancy’s scum, and dregs of scatter’d thought, Band of all evils, cradle of causeless care, Thou web of will, whose end is never wrought. Desire, desire I have too dearly bought, With price of mangled mind thy worthless ware, Too long, too long asleep thou […]...
13. On The Eating Of Mice A woman prepared a mouse for her husband’s dinner, Roasting it with a blueberry in its mouth. At table he uses a dentist’s pick and a surgeon’s scalpel, Bending over the tiny roastling with a jeweler’s loupe. . . Twenty years of this: curried mouse, garlic and butter Mouse, mouse sauteed in its own fur, […]...
14. Under Cover of Night To slip into your shadow under cover of night. To follow your footsteps, your shadow at the window. That shadow at the window is you and no one else; It’s you. Do not open that window behind whose curtains you’re moving. Shut your eyes. I’d like to shut them with my lips. But the window […]...
15. Blind His headstrong thoughts that once in eager strife Leapt sure from eye to brain and back to eye, Weaving unconscious tapestries of life, Are now thrust inward, dungeoned from the sky. And he who has watched his world and loved it all, Starless and old and blind, a sight for pity, With feeble steps and […]...
16. The Country of the Blind Hard light bathed them-a whole nation of eyeless men, Dark bipeds not aware how they were maimed. A long Process, clearly, a slow curse, Drained through centuries, left them thus. At some transitional stage, then, a luckless few, No doubt, must have had eyes after the up-to-date, Normal type had achieved snug Darkness, safe from […]...
17. The Blind Girl Kind Christians, pray list to me, And I’ll relate a sad story, Concerning a little blind girl, only nine years of age, Who lived with her father in a lonely cottage. Poor girl, she had never seen the blessed light of day, Nor the beautiful fields of corn and hay, Nor the sparrows, that lifted […]...
18. THE VANDAL Someone has been tearing up the autumn, Its ripped leaves ripple across the road Flip liked hinged cards in the moist grass. The rain-varnished houses vanish in smoke, Drift on the air like blown-out breath in gusts: So we forget frog-ponds and nut-gatherers, Remember instead that weather’s for us Who know too well its intentions, […]...
19. Listening ‘T is you that are the music, not your song. The song is but a door which, opening wide, Lets forth the pent-up melody inside, Your spirit’s harmony, which clear and strong Sings but of you. Throughout your whole life long Your songs, your thoughts, your doings, each divide This perfect beauty; waves within a […]...
20. Keepe On Your Maske (Version for his Mistress) Keepe on your maske and hide your eye For in beholding you I dye. Your fatall beauty Gorgon-like Dead with astonishment doth strike. Your piercing eyes that now I see Are worse than Basilisks to me. Shut from mine eyes those hills of snow, Their melting vally do not shew: Those azure paths lead to […]...
21. Listening I listen to the stillness of you, My dear, among it all; I feel your silence touch my words as I talk, And take them in thrall. My words fly off a forge The length of a spark; I see the night-sky easily sip them Up in the dark. The lark sings loud and glad, […]...
22. The Long Trail There’s a whisper down the field where the year has shot her yield, And the ricks stand grey to the sun, Singing: “Over then, come over, for the bee has quit the dover, “And your English summer’s done.” You have heard the beat of the off-shore wind, And the thresh of the deep-sea rain; You […]...
23. This Window is This window is confidence, Documenting proceedings, Capturing moments, Cleansing views Challenging sentiment. This window is nourishment Filling the eyes With strong drink, And acidly piercing Over-elaborate structures. This window is furniture Re-hung like a picture, Recording new outlooks When the old pleases No more. This window is doorway To feelings, Good feelings and bad, All […]...
24. L'Envoi There’s a whisper down the field where the year has shot her yield, And the ricks stand gray to the sun, Singing: “Over then, come over, for the bee has quit the clover, And your English summer’s done.” You have heard the beat of the off-shore wind, And the thresh of the deep-sea rain; You […]...
25. Listening to a Flute in Yellow Crane Pavillion I came here a wanderer Thinking of home, Remembering my far away Ch’ang-an. And then, from deep in Yellow Crane Pavillion, I heard a beautiful bamboo flute Play “Falling Plum Blossoms.” It was late spring in a city by the river....
26. The Lone Trail Ye who know the Lone Trail fain would follow it, Though it lead to glory or the darkness of the pit. Ye who take the Lone Trail, bid your love good-by; The Lone Trail, the Lone Trail follow till you die. The trails of the world be countless, and most of the trails be tried; […]...
27. Going Blind She sat just like the others at the table. But on second glance, she seemed to hold her cup A little differently as she picked it up. She smiled once. It was almost painful. And when they finished and it was time to stand And slowly, as chance selected them, they left And moved through […]...
28. The Blind And The Dead She lay like a saint on her copper couch; Like an angel asleep she lay, In the stare of the ghoulish folks that slouch Past the Dead and sneak away. Then came old Jules of the sightless gaze, Who begged in the streets for bread. Each day he had come for a year of days, […]...
29. An Ancient Gesture I thought, as I wiped my eyes on the corner of my apron: Penelope did this too. And more than once: you can’t keep weaving all day And undoing it all through the night; Your arms get tired, and the back of your neck gets tight; And along towards morning, when you think it will […]...
30. 241. Written in Friars' Carse Hermitage (Second Version) THOU whom chance may hither lead, Be thou clad in russet weed, Be thou deckt in silken stole, Grave these counsels on thy soul. Life is but a day at most, Sprung from night,-in darkness lost; Hope not sunshine ev’ry hour, Fear not clouds will always lour. As Youth and Love with sprightly dance, Beneath […]...
31. To A Friend Going Blind Today, because I couldn’t find the shortcut through, I had to walk this town’s entire inner Perimeter to find Where the medieval walls break open In an eighteenth century Arch. The yellow valley flickered on and off Through cracks and the gaps For guns. Bruna is teaching me To cut a pattern. Saturdays we buy […]...
32. A little Dog that wags his tail A little Dog that wags his tail And knows no other joy Of such a little Dog am I Reminded by a Boy Who gambols all the living Day Without an earthly cause Because he is a little Boy I honestly suppose The Cat that in the Corner dwells Her martial Day forgot The Mouse […]...
33. Another Version Our trees are aspens, but people Mistake them for birches; They think of us as characters In a Russian novel, Kitty and Levin Living contentedly in the country. Our friends from the city watch the birds And rabbits feeding together On top of the deep, white snow. (We have Russian winters in Illinois, But no […]...
34. The Persian Version Truth-loving Persians do not dwell upon The trivial skirmish fought near Marathon. As for the Greek theatrical tradition Which represents that summer’s expedition Not as a mere reconnaisance in force By three brigades of foot and one of horse (Their left flank covered by some obsolete Light craft detached from the main Persian fleet) But […]...
35. Pejar Creek Deep in the meadow grass Easy stand the cattle, Lightly lock the young bulls In a mimic battle, Pride gathers with each shock, Every break and rally – That’s where the Pejar runs, Runs like a slip of silver through the valley. Softly as a thrush sings In the morning hushes, Softly sing the waters […]...
36. The Piano (Notebook Version) Somewhere beneath that piano’s superb sleek black Must hide my mother’s piano, little and brown with the back That stood close to the wall, and the front’s faded silk, both torn And the keys with little hollows, that my mother’s fingers had worn. Softly, in the shadows, a woman is singing to me Quietly, through […]...
37. To Be Blind Is it sounds converging, Sounds nearing, Infringement, impingement, Impact, contact With surfaces of the sounds Or surfaces without the sounds: Diagrams, skeletal, strange? Is it winds curling round invisible corners? Polyphony of perfumes? Antennae discovering an axis, erecting the architecture of a world? Is it orchestration of the finger-tips, graph of a fugue: Scaffold for […]...
38. The Cat's Song Mine, says the cat, putting out his paw of darkness. My lover, my friend, my slave, my toy, says The cat making on your chest his gesture of drawing Milk from his mother’s forgotten breasts. Let us walk in the woods, says the cat. I’ll teach you to read the tabloid of scents, To fade […]...
39. 402. Song-Meg o' the Mill (Another Version) O KEN ye what Meg o’ the Mill has gotten, An’ ken ye what Meg o’ the Mill has gotten? A braw new naig wi’ the tail o’ a rottan, And that’s what Meg o’ the Mill has gotten. O ken ye what Meg o’ the Mill lo’es dearly, An’ ken ye what Meg o’ […]...
40. The Flower-School When storm-clouds rumble in the sky and June showers come down. The moist east wind comes marching over the heath to blow its Bagpipes among the bamboos. Then crowds of flowers come out of a sudden, from nobody knows Where, and dance upon the grass in wild glee. Mother, I really think the flowers go […]...