Spanish

Related poetry:

1. Peach Blossoms WHAT cry of peach blossoms let loose on the air today I heard with my face thrown in the pink-white of it all? in the red whisper of it all? What man I heard saying: Christ, these are beautiful! And Christ and Christ was in his mouth, over these peach blossoms?...
2. After Spanish Proverb Oh, mercifullest one of all, Oh, generous as dear, None lived so lowly, none so small, Thou couldst withhold thy tear: How swift, in pure compassion, How meek in charity, To offer friendship to the one Who begged but love of thee! Oh, gentle word, and sweetest said! Oh, tender hand, and first To hold […]...
3. The Little Peach A little peach in the orchard grew, A little peach of emerald hue; Warmed by the sun and wet by the dew, It grew. One day, passing that orchard through, That little peach dawned on the view Of Johnny Jones and his sister Sue Them two. Up at that peach a club they threw Down […]...
4. Spanish Women The Spanish women don’t wear slacks Because their hips are too enormous. ‘Tis true each bulbous bosom lacks No inspiration that should warm us; But how our ardor seems to freeze When we behold their bulgy knees! Their starry eyes and dusky hair, Their dazzling teeth in smile so gracious, I love, but oh I […]...
5. The Ripest Peach The ripest peach is highest on the tree And so her love, beyond the reach of me, Is dearest in my sight. Sweet breezes, bow Her heart down to me where I worship now! She looms aloft where every eye may see The ripest peach is highest on the tree. Such fruitage as her love […]...
6. Accomplished Facts EVERY year Emily Dickinson sent one friend The first arbutus bud in her garden. In a last will and testament Andrew Jackson Remembered a friend with the gift of George Washington’s pocket spy-glass. Napoleon too, in a last testament, mentioned a silver Watch taken from the bedroom of Frederick the Great, And passed along this […]...
7. Soliloquy Of The Spanish Cloister I. Gr-r-r – there go, my heart’s abhorrence! Water your damned flower-pots, do! If hate killed men, Brother Lawrence, God’s blood, would not mine kill you! What? your myrtle-bush wants trimming? Oh, that rose has prior claims – Needs its leaden vase filled brimming? Hell dry you up with its flames! II. At the meal […]...
8. The Plowboy AFTER the last red sunset glimmer, Black on the line of a low hill rise, Formed into moving shadows, I saw A plowboy and two horses lined against the gray, Plowing in the dusk the last furrow. The turf had a gleam of brown, And smell of soil was in the air, And, cool and […]...
9. Spanish Peasant We have no aspiration vain For paradise Utopian, And here in our sun-happy Spain, Though man exploit his fellow man, To high constraint we humbly yield, And turn from politics to toil, Content to till a kindly field And bring forth bounty from the soil. They tell us wars will never cease; They sy the […]...
10. In California During the Gulf War Among the blight-killed eucalypts, among Trees and bushes rusted by Christmas frosts, The yards and hillsides exhausted by five years of drought, Certain airy white blossoms punctually Reappeared, and dense clusters of pale pink, dark pink A delicate abundance. They seemed Like guests arriving joyfully on the accustomed Festival day, unaware of the year’s events, […]...
11. Two spanish poems (a) orihuela-time The sun in orihuela calms the dust And people glide about the streets at ease (problems left indoors to cool themselves) Time has grown fat and no one cares To pin each minute to its proper place The day is long tomorrow’s not yet real Doves and old men occupy the squares Nattering […]...
12. Spanish Dancer As in one’s hand a lighted match blinds you before It comes aflame and sends out brilliant flickering Tongues to every side so, within the ring of the Spectators, her dance begins in hasty, heated rhythms And spreads itself darting flames around. And suddenly the dance is altogether flame! With a fierce glance she sets […]...
13. The Spanish Needle Lovely dainty Spanish needle With your yellow flower and white, Dew bedecked and softly sleeping, Do you think of me to-night? Shadowed by the spreading mango, Nodding o’er the rippling stream, Tell me, dear plant of my childhood, Do you of the exile dream? Do you see me by the brook’s side Catching crayfish ‘neath […]...
14. Spanish Men The Men of Seville are, they say, The laziest of Spain. Consummate artists in delay, Allergical to strain; Fr if you have a job for them, And beg them to be spry, They only look at you with phlegm: “Mañana,” they reply. The Men of gay Madrid, I’m told, Siesta’s law revere; The custom is […]...
15. Parousia Love of my life, you Are lost and I am Young again. A few years pass. The air fills With girlish music; In the front yard The apple tree is Studded with blossoms. I try to win you back, That is the point Of the writing. But you are gone forever, As in Russian novels, […]...
16. Alone, Looking for Blossoms Along the River The sorrow of riverside blossoms inexplicable, And nowhere to complain I’ve gone half crazy. I look up our southern neighbor. But my friend in wine Gone ten days drinking. I find only an empty bed. A thick frenzy of blossoms shrouding the riverside, I stroll, listing dangerously, in full fear of spring. Poems, wine even […]...
17. Morning Poem #40 pink around a Circle of pink Around a shimmer Of found reason Pink around a Glimmering white Shaked around A sound blue Somehow in the Touch of green Looped inside Loops abound A bound ribbon A hope bow bows In a rare season...
18. Unto one who lies at rest Unto one who lies at rest ‘Neath the sunset, in the West, Clover-blossoms on her breast. Lover of each gracious thing Which makes glad the summer-tide, From the daisies clustering And the violets purple-eyed, To those shy and hidden blooms Which in forest coverts stay, Sending wandering perfumes Out as guide to show the way, […]...
19. To His Two Children In the land of Wu the mulberry leaves are green, And thrice the silkworms have gone to sleep. In East Luh where my family stay, I wonder who is sowing those fields of ours. I cannot be back in time for the spring doings, Yet I can help nothing, traveling on the river. The south […]...
20. Smoke Rose Gold THE DOME of the capitol looks to the Potomac river. Out of haze over the sunset, Out of a smoke rose gold: One star shines over the sunset. Night takes the dome and the river, the sun and the smoke rose gold, The haze changes from sunset to star. The pour of a thin silver […]...
21. The Daughter Of The Year Nature, when she made thee, dear, Begged the treasures of the year. For thy cheeks, all pink and white, Spring gave apple blossoms light; Summer, for thy matchless eyes, Gave the azure of her skies; Autumn spun her gold and red In a mass of silken thread- Gold and red and sunlight rare For the […]...
22. The House Of Dust: Part 02: 07: Two Lovers: Overtones Two lovers, here at the corner, by the steeple, Two lovers blow together like music blowing: And the crowd dissolves about them like a sea. Recurring waves of sound break vaguely about them, They drift from wall to wall, from tree to tree. ‘Well, am I late?’ Upward they look and laugh, They look at […]...
23. To the Tune of The fragrance of the pink lotus Fails, the jade mat hints of autumn. Softly I unfasten my silk cloak, Who is sending a letter from Among the clouds? When the swan message returns, The balcony is flooded with moonlight. The blossoms drift on, the water flows. There is the same yearning of the heart, But […]...
24. June Sick Room The birds’ shrill fluting Beats on the pink blind, Pierces the pink blind At whose edge fumble the sun’s Fingers till one obtrudes And stirs the thick motes. The room is a close box of pink warmth. The minutes click. A man picks across the street With a metal-pointed stick. Three clocks drop each twelve […]...
25. 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 […]...
26. Potato Blossom Songs and Jigs RUM tiddy um, tiddy um, tiddy um tum tum. My knees are loose-like, my feet want to sling their selves. I feel like tickling you under the chin-honey-and a-asking: Why Does a Chicken Cross the Road? When the hens are a-laying eggs, and the roosters pluck-pluck-put-akut and you-honey-put new potatoes and gravy on the table, […]...
27. 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 […]...
28. Dedication To Providence I loved to toy with tuneful rhyme, My fancies into verse to weave; For as I walked my words would chime So bell-like I could scarce believe; My rhymes rippled like a brook, My stanzas bloomed like blossoms gay: And that is why I dream this book A verseman’s holiday. The palm-blades brindle in the […]...
29. Large Bad Picture Remembering the Strait of Belle Isle or Some northerly harbor of Labrador, Before he became a schoolteacher A great-uncle painted a big picture. Receding for miles on either side Into a flushed, still sky Are overhanging pale blue cliffs Hundreds of feet high, Their bases fretted by little arches, The entrances to caves Running in […]...
30. The Swan Did you too see it, drifting, all night, on the black river? Did you see it in the morning, rising into the silvery air – An armful of white blossoms, A perfect commotion of silk and linen as it leaned Into the bondage of its wings; a snowbank, a bank of lilies, Biting the air […]...
31. Picnic Boat SUNDAY night and the park policemen tell each other it Is dark as a stack of black cats on Lake Michigan. A big picnic boat comes home to Chicago from the peach Farms of Saugatuck. Hundreds of electric bulbs break the night’s darkness, a Flock of red and yellow birds with wings at a standstill. […]...
32. THE MUSES' SON [Goethe quotes the beginning of this song in His Autobiography, as expressing the manner in which his poetical Effusions used to pour out from him.] THROUGH field and wood to stray, And pipe my tuneful lay, ‘Tis thus my days are pass’d; And all keep tune with me, And move in harmony, And so on, […]...
33. The Red Blaze is the Morning The Red Blaze is the Morning The Violet is Noon The Yellow Day is falling And after that is none But Miles of Sparks at Evening Reveal the Width that burned The Territory Argent that Never yet consumed...
34. KINDERGARTEN PORTRAIT OF MY MOTHER AT MARDI GRAS She looks rather pathetic, really, Leaning against the black air, The three mangled fingers of her left hand Clutching a yellow purse, Her right arm raised over her head As if to shield herself From the silver shower of stars Raining down upon her. Her mouth is a crack Growing beneath her nose. Two dimples […]...
35. Crabapple Blossoms SOMEBODY’S little girl-how easy to make a sob story over who she was once and who she is now. Somebody’s little girl-she played once under a crab-apple tree in June and the blossoms fell on the dark hair. It was somewhere on the Erie line and the town was Salamanca or Painted Post or Horse’s […]...
36. A Birthday Song. To S. G For ever wave, for ever float and shine Before my yearning eyes, oh! dream of mine Wherein I dreamed that time was like a vine, A creeping rose, that clomb a height of dread Out of the sea of Birth, all filled with dead, Up to the brilliant cloud of Death o’erhead. This vine bore […]...
37. Petropolis From a fearful height, a wandering light, But does a star glitter like this, crying? Transparent star, wandering light Your brother, Petropolis, is dying. From a fearful height, earthly dreams are alight, And a green star is crying. Oh star, if you are the brother of water and light, Your brother, Petropolis, is dying. A […]...
38. At leisure is the Soul At leisure is the Soul That gets a Staggering Blow The Width of Life before it spreads Without a thing to do It begs you give it Work But just the placing Pins Or humblest Patchwork Children do To Help its Vacant Hands...
39. Françoise And The Fruit Farmer In town to sell his fruit, he saw her- Françoise in her summer slacks- Turning to him, coming back To feel the swelling plums, One held in each soft hand, breast-high, Above them her eyes enclosing him In quietness brushed up to colors, Urgings green, thrustings yellow. A vine-like touch, her promise seemed all profit, […]...
40. Just Before April Came THE SNOW piles in dark places are gone. Pools by the railroad tracks shine clear. The gravel of all shallow places shines. A white pigeon reels and somersaults. Frogs plutter and squdge-and frogs beat the air with a recurring thin steel sliver of melody. Crows go in fives and tens; they march their black feathers […]...