Silent Mark

Related poetry:

1. Modern Love XLIII: Mark Where the Pressing Wind Mark where the pressing wind shoots javelin-like, Its skeleton shadow on the broad-backed wave! Here is a fitting spot to dig Love’s grave; Here where the ponderous breakers plunge and strike, And dart their hissing tongues high up the sand: In hearing of the ocean, and in sight Of those ribbed wind-streaks running into white. […]...
2. Silent Letters Treacherous as trap door spiders, They ambush children’s innocence. “Why is there g h in light? It isn’t fair!” Buddha declared the world illusory As the p sound in psyche. Sartre Said the same of God from France, Olympus of silent letters, n’est – ce pas? Polite conceals an e in the same way “How […]...
3. Silent, Silent Night Silent, silent night, Quench the holy light Of thy torches bright; For possessed of Day Thousand spirits stray That sweet joys betray. Why should joys be sweet Used with deceit, Nor with sorrows meet? But an honest joy Does itself destroy For a harlot coy....
4. 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 […]...
5. Silent Noon Your hands lie open in the long fresh grass, – The finger-points look through like rosy blooms: Your eyes smile peace. The pasture gleams and glooms ‘Neath billowing skies that scatter and amass. All round our nest, far as the eye can pass, Are golden kingcup-fields with silver edge Where the cow-parsley skirts the hawthorn-hedge. […]...
6. I Mark Your Courage I had no profound feelings of shock or surprise To those matter-of-fact revelations Which spelled the end of this chapter of your life. It was, as you put it, too late for recriminations, And the horrendous realities could be no worse For having faced them. I mark your courage in that moment of admission, When […]...
7. Mark Twain and Joan of Arc When Yankee soldiers reach the barricade Then Joan of Arc gives each the accolade. For she is there in armor clad, today, All the young poets of the wide world say. Which of our freemen did she greet the first, Seeing him come against the fires accurst? Mark Twain, our Chief, with neither smile nor […]...
8. A Health to Mark Twain At his Birthday Feast With memories old and wishes new We crown our cups again, And here’s to you, and here’s to you With love that ne’er shall wane! And may you keep, at sixty-seven, The joy of earth, the hope of heaven, And fame well-earned, and friendship true, And peace that comforts every pain, […]...
9. 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 […]...
10. 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 […]...
11. Thought OF what I write from myself-As if that were not the resumé; Of Histories-As if such, however complete, were not less complete than the preceding poems; As if those shreds, the records of nations, could possibly be as lasting as the preceding poems; As if here were not the amount of all nations, and of […]...
12. Your Dad Did What? Where they have been, if they have been away, Or what they’ve done at home, if they have not – You make them write about the holiday. One writes My Dad did. What? Your Dad did what? That’s not a sentence. Never mind the bell. We stay behind until the work is done. You count […]...
13. 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...
14. Plus Intra Soul within sense, immeasurable, obscure, Insepulchred and deathless, through the dense Deep elements may scarce be felt as pure Soul within sense. From depth and height by measurers left immense, Through sound and shape and colour, comes the unsure Vague utterance, fitful with supreme suspense. All that may pass, and all that must endure, Song […]...
15. The Silent Ones I’m just an ordinary chap Who comes home to his tea, And mostly I don’t care a rap What people think of me; I do my job and take my pay, And love of peace expound; But as I go my patient way, Don’t push me round. Though I respect authority And order never flout, […]...
16. The Silent Shepherds What’s the best life for a man? Never to have been born, sings the choros, and the next best Is to die young. I saw the Sybil at Cumae Hung in her cage over the public street What do you want, Sybil? I want to die. Apothanein Thelo. Apothanein Thelo. Apothanein Thelo. You have got […]...
17. Silent Steps Have you not heard his silent steps? He comes, comes, ever comes. Every moment and every age, Every day and every night he comes, comes, ever comes. Many a song have I sung in many a mood of mind, But all their notes have always proclaimed, ‘He comes, comes, ever comes.’ In the fragrant days […]...
18. The Silent Lover ii WRONG not, sweet empress of my heart, The merit of true passion, With thinking that he feels no smart, That sues for no compassion. Silence in love bewrays more woe Than words, though ne’er so witty: A beggar that is dumb, you know, May challenge double pity. Then wrong not, dearest to my heart, My […]...
19. The Silent Lover i PASSIONS are liken’d best to floods and streams: The shallow murmur, but the deep are dumb; So, when affection yields discourse, it seems The bottom is but shallow whence they come. They that are rich in words, in words discover That they are poor in that which makes a lover....
20. The Silent Melody “BRING me my broken harp,” he said; “We both are wrecks, but as ye will, Though all its ringing tones have fled, Their echoes linger round it still; It had some golden strings, I know, But that was long how long! ago. “I cannot see its tarnished gold, I cannot hear its vanished tone, Scarce […]...
21. Silent Poem backroad leafmold stonewall chipmunk Underbrush grapevine woodchuck shadblow Woodsmoke cowbarn honeysuckle woodpile Sawhorse bucksaw outhouse wellsweep Backdoor flagstone bulkhead buttermilk Candlestick ragrug firedog brownbread Hilltop outcrop cowbell buttercup Whetstone thunderstorm pitchfork steeplebush Gristmill millstone cornmeal waterwheel Watercress buckwheat firefly jewelweed Gravestone groundpine windbreak bedrock Weathercock snowfall starlight cockcrow...
22. Last Word To Childhood Ice-cold fear has slowly decreased As my bones have grown, my height increased. Though I shiver in snow of dreams, I shall never Freeze again in a noonday terror. I shall never break, my sinews crumble As God-the-headmaster’s fingers fumble At the other side of unopening doors Which I watch for a hundred thousand years. […]...
23. The Silent Shearer Weary and listless, sad and slow, Without any conversation, Was a man that worked on The Overflow, The butt of the shed and the station. The shearers christened him Noisy Ned, With an alias “Silent Waters”, But never a needless word he said In the hut or the shearers’ quarters. Which caused annoyance to Big […]...
24. Shall the Harp Then Be Silent Shall the Harp then be silent, when he who first gave To our country a name, is withdrawn from all eyes? Shall a Minstrel of Erin stand mute by the grave Where the first where the last of her Patriots lies? No faint though the death-song may fall from his lips, Though his Harp, like […]...
25. Song from The Silent Woman Still to be neat, still to be dressed, As you were going to a feast; Still to be powdered, still perfumed: Lady, it is to be presumed, Though art’s hid causes are not found, All is not sweet, all is not sound. Give me a look, give me a face, That makes simplicity a grace; […]...
26. Continual Conversation With A Silent Man The old brown hen and the old blue sky, Between the two we live and die The broken cartwheel on the hill. As if, in the presence of the sea, We dried our nets and mended sail And talked of never-ending things, Of the never-ending storm of will, One will and many wills, and the […]...
27. Give me the Splendid, Silent Sun 1 GIVE me the splendid silent sun, with all his beams full-dazzling; Give me juicy autumnal fruit, ripe and red from the orchard; Give me a field where the unmow’d grass grows; Give me an arbor, give me the trellis’d grape; Give me fresh corn and wheat-give me serene-moving animals, teaching content; Give me nights […]...
28. Every Silent Plant in the Garden (To: S. W.) Every silent plant in the garden knows Two sorts of wishes make up the world: One is conceived in heaven, the other in hell The earth buttoned its lip, too humble to tell With regard to intent, millionaires are all Yet about prayers, most of us ignorant children Undiscerning of whatever come […]...
29. Sonnets XXX: When to the sessions of sweet silent thought When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time’s waste: Then can I drown an eye, unus’d to flow, For precious friends hid in death’s dateless night, And weep afresh […]...
30. Sonnet XXX: When to the sessions of sweet silent thought When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear times’ waste; Then can I drown an eye, unus’d to flow, For precious friends hid in death’s dateless night, And weep afresh […]...
31. Sonnet 30: When to the sessions of sweet silent thought When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time’s waste. Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow, For precious friends hid in death’s dateless night, And weep afresh […]...
32. When to the sessions of sweet silent thought (Sonnet 30) When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time’s waste: Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow, For precious friends hid in death’s dateless night, And weep afresh […]...
33. The Mole Said he: “I’ll dive deep in the Past, And write a book of direful days When summer skies were overcast With smoke of humble hearths ablaze; When War was rampant in the land, And poor folk cowered in the night, While ruin gaped on every hand – Of ravishing and wrath I’ll write.” Ten years […]...
34. Anna Who Was Mad Anna who was mad, I have a knife in my armpit. When I stand on tiptoe I tap out messages. Am I some sort of infection? Did I make you go insane? Did I make the sounds go sour? Did I tell you to climb out the window? Forgive. Forgive. Say not I did. Say […]...
35. Comfort SPEAK low to me, my Saviour, low and sweet From out the hallelujahs, sweet and low Lest I should fear and fall, and miss Thee so Who art not missed by any that entreat. Speak to mo as to Mary at thy feet! And if no precious gums my hands bestow, Let my tears drop […]...
36. Golden Days Another day of toil and strife, Another page so white, Within that fateful Log of Life That I and all must write; Another page without a stain To make of as I may, That done, I shall not see again Until the Judgment Day. Ah, could I, could I backward turn The pages of that […]...
37. Daybreak In Alabama When I get to be a composer I’m gonna write me some music about Daybreak in Alabama And I’m gonna put the purtiest songs in it Rising out of the ground like a swamp mist And falling out of heaven like soft dew. I’m gonna put some tall tall trees in it And the scent […]...
38. On The Loss Of The Royal George Written when the news arrived. Toll for the brave! The brave that are no more! All sunk beneath the wave Fast by their native shore. Eight hundred of the brave, Whose courage well was tried, Had made the vessel heel, And laid her on her side. A land-breeze shook the shrouds, And she was overset; […]...
39. Take Back the Virgin Page Written on Returning a Blank Book Take back the virgin page, White and unwritten still; Some hand, more calm and sage, The leaf must fill. Thoughts come, as pure as light Pure as even you require; But, oh! each word I write Love turns to fire. Yet let me keep the book: Oft shall my […]...
40. Called Into Play Fall fell: so that’s it for the leaf poetry: Some flurries have whitened the edges of roads And lawns: time for that, the snow stuff: & Turkeys and old St. Nick: where am I going to Find something to write about I haven’t already Written away: I will have to stop short, look Down, look […]...