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1. Lucky One sweet pound of filet mignon Sizzles on the roadside. Let’s say a hundred yards below The buzzard. The buzzard Sees no cars or other buzzards Between the mountain range due north And the horizon to the south And across the desert west and east No other creature’s nose leads him to this feast. The […]...
2. Thanksgiving The man who stands above the bird, his knife Sharp as a Turkish scimitar, first removes A thigh and leg, half the support On which the turkey used to stand. This Leg and thigh he sets on an extra Plate. All his weight now on One leg, he lunges for the wing, the wing On […]...
3. Poetry it Takes A lot of Desperation Dissatisfaction And Disillusion To Write A Few Good Poems. It’s not For Everybody Either to Write It Or even to Read It....
4. Birdcage Walk When the wind blows her veil And uncovers her laughter I cease, I turn pale. When the wind blows her veil From the woes I bewail Of love and hereafter: When the wind blows her veil I cease, I turn pale....
5. Poet And Peer They asked the Bard of Ayr to dine; The banquet hall was fit and fine, With gracing it a Lord; The poet came; his face was grim To find the place reserved for him Was at the butler’s board. So when the gentry called him in, He entered with a knavish grin And sipped a […]...
6. All Is Well Whate’er you dream, with doubt possessed, Keep, keep it snug within your breast, And lay you down and take your rest; And when you wake, to work again, The wind it blows, the vessel goes, And where and whither, no one knows. ‘Twill all be well: no need of care; Though how it will, and […]...
7. Lines Inscribed on The Wall of a Dungeon in The Southern P of I Though not a breath can enter here, I know the wind blows fresh and free; I know the sun is shining clear, Though not a gleam can visit me. They thought while I in darkness lay, ‘Twere pity that I should not know How all the earth is smiling gay; How fresh the vernal breezes […]...
8. Butterfly Butterfly, the wind blows sea-ward, strong beyond the garden-wall! Butterfly, why do you settle on my shoe, and sip the dirt on my shoe, Lifting your veined wings, lifting them? big white butterfly! Already it is October, and the wind blows strong to the sea From the hills where snow must have fallen, the wind […]...
9. The Wicked Postman Why do you sit there on the floor so quiet and silent, tell me, Mother dear? The rain is coming in through the open window, making you all Wet, and you don’t mind it. Do you hear the gong striking four? It is time for my brother To come home from school. What has happened […]...
10. Yvonne Of Brittany In your mother’s apple-orchard, Just a year ago, last spring: Do you remember, Yvonne! The dear trees lavishing Rain of their starry blossoms To make you a coronet? Do you ever remember, Yvonne, As I remember yet? In your mother’s apple-orchard, When the world was left behind: You were shy, so shy, Yvonne! But your […]...
11. That precise moment however foul the times or difficult the ways are Through those personal morasses this change of age Won’t let a single being (rich or poor) be free from Come spring the trees get on with their blossoming You’d think they didn’t read the newspapers You’d think the media hadn’t yet found a way Of getting […]...
12. Trashcan Lives the wind blows hard tonight And it’s a cold wind And I think about The boys on the row. I hope some of them have a bottle of Red. It’s when you’re on the row That you notice that Everything Is owned And that there are locks on Everything. This is the way a democracy […]...
13. Essay On The Personal Because finally the personal Is all that matters, We spend years describing stones, Chairs, abandoned farmhouses- Until we’re ready. Always It’s a matter of precision, What it feels like To kiss someone or to walk Out the door. How good it was To practice on stones Which were things we could love Without weeping over. […]...
14. Hymn To Life The hair falling on your forehead suddenly lifted. Suddenly something stirred on the ground. The trees are whispering in the dark. Your bare arms will be cold. Far off where we can’t see, the moon must be rising. It hasn’t reached us yet, slipping through the leaves to light up your shoulder. But I know […]...
15. It is not Always May No hay pajaros en los nidos de antano. Spanish Proverb The sun is bright, the air is clear, The darting swallows soar and sing. And from the stately elms I hear The bluebird prophesying Spring. So blue you winding river flows, It seems an outlet from the sky, Where waiting till the west-wind blows, The […]...
16. A fuzzy fellow, without feet A fuzzy fellow, without feet, Yet doth exceeding run! Of velvet, is his Countenance, And his Complexion, dun! Sometime, he dwelleth in the grass! Sometime, upon a bough, From which he doth descend in plush Upon the Passer-by! All this in summer. But when winds alarm the Forest Folk, He taketh Damask Residence And struts […]...
17. The Unlucky Apple ‘Twas the apple that in Eden Caused our father’s primal fall; And the Trojan War, remember ‘Twas an apple caused it all. So for weeks I’ve hesitated, You can guess the reason why, For I want to tell my darling She’s the apple of my eye....
18. Winter: My Secret I tell my secret? No indeed, not I: Perhaps some day, who knows? But not today; it froze, and blows, and snows, And you’re too curious: fie! You want to hear it? well: Only, my secret’s mine, and I won’t tell. Or, after all, perhaps there’s none: Suppose there is no secret after all, But […]...
19. By the Spring, at Sunset Sometimes we remember kisses, Remember the dear heart-leap when they came: Not always, but sometimes we remember The kindness, the dumbness, the good flame Of laughter and farewell. Beside the road Afar from those who said “Good-by” I write, Far from my city task, my lawful load. Sun in my face, wind beside my shoulder, […]...
20. It Nods and Curtseys and Recovers It nods and curtseys and recovers When the wind blows above, The nettle on the graves of lovers That hanged themselves for love. The nettle nods, the wind blows over, The man, he does not move, The lover of the grave, the lover That hanged himself for love....
21. Hora Stellatrix The stars hang thick in the apple tree, The south wind smells of the pungent sea, Gold tulip cups are heavy with dew. The night’s for you, Sweetheart, for you! Starfire rains from the vaulted blue. Listen! The dancing of unseen leaves. A drowsy swallow stirs in the eaves. Only a maiden is sorrowing. ‘T […]...
22. THE SINGING SCHOOL The Poetry School, The Poetry Book Society, The Poetry Business: So much poetry about you’d think I’d want to shout, “Hurray, hurray, Every day’s Poetry Day!” but I don’t and you don’t either- You know its flim-flam on the ether, grants for Jack-the-lads Of both sexes, poets who’ve never been seen in a little magazine […]...
23. Over The Land Is April OVER the land is April, Over my heart a rose; Over the high, brown mountain The sound of singing goes. Say, love, do you hear me, Hear my sonnets ring? Over the high, brown mountain, Love, do you hear me sing? By highway, love, and byway The snows succeed the rose. Over the high, brown […]...
24. Spenser's Ireland has not altered; A place as kind as it is green, The greenest place I’ve never seen. Every name is a tune. Denunciations do not affect The culprit; nor blows, but it Is torture to him to not be spoken to. They’re natural, The coat, like Venus’ Mantle lined with stars, Buttoned close at the […]...
25. Tz'u No. 12 To the tune of “Happy Event Is Nigh” The wind ceases; fallen flowers pile high. Outside my screen, petals collect in heaps of red And snow-white. This reminds me that after the blooming Of the cherry-apple tree It is time to lament the dying spring. Singing and drinking have come to an end; Jade cups […]...
26. The Song of a Man Who has Come Through Not I, not I, but the wind that blows through me! A fine wind is blowing the new direction of Time. If only I let it bear me, carry me, if only it carry me! If only I am sensitive, subtle, oh, delicate, a winged gift! If only, most lovely of all, I yield myself […]...
27. Horse Fiddle FIRST I would like to write for you a poem to be shouted in the teeth of a strong wind. Next I would like to write one for you to sit on a hill and read down the river valley on a late summer afternoon, reading it in less than a whisper to Jack on […]...
28. Sonnet 93: So shall I live, supposing thou art true So shall I live, supposing thou art true, Like a deceivèd husband; so love’s face May still seem love to me, though altered new, Thy looks with me, thy heart in other place. For there can live no hatred in thine eye, Therefore in that I cannot know thy change. In many’s looks, the false […]...
29. 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 […]...
30. Angina Pectoris If half my heart is here, doctor, the other half is in China With the army flowing toward the Yellow River. And, every morning, doctor, Every morning at sunrise my heart is shot in Greece. And every night, c doctor, When the prisoners are asleep and the infirmary is deserted, My heart stops at a […]...
31. A Spell before Winter After the red leaf and the gold have gone, Brought down by the wind, then by hammering rain Bruised and discolored, when October’s flame Goes blue to guttering in the cusp, this land Sinks deeper into silence, darker into shade. There is a knowledge in the look of things, The old hills hunch before the […]...
32. The Curse Oh, lay my ashes on the wind That blows across the sea. And I shall meet a fisherman Out of Capri, And he will say, seeing me, “What a Strange Thing! Like a fish’s scale or a Butterfly’s wing.” Oh, lay my ashes on the wind That blows away the fog. And I shall meet […]...
33. Loving In Truth, And Fain In Verse My Love To Show Loving in truth, and fain in verse my love to show, That She, dear She, might take some pleasure of my pain, -Pleasure might cause her read, reading might make her know, Knowledge might pity win, and pity grace obtain – I sought fit words to paint the blackest face of woe, Studying inventions fine, […]...
34. Sonnet I: Loving In Truth Loving in truth, and fain in verse my love to show, That she (dear She) might take some pleasure of my pain: Pleasure might cause her read, reading might make her know, Knowledge might pity win, and pity grace obtain; I sought fit words to paint the blackest face of woe, Studying inventions fine, her […]...
35. 303. Song-The Gowden Locks of Anna YESTREEN I had a pint o’ wine, A place where body saw na; Yestreen lay on this breast o’ mine The gowden locks of Anna. The hungry Jew in wilderness, Rejoicing o’er his manna, Was naething to my hinny bliss Upon the lips of Anna. Ye monarchs, take the East and West Frae Indus to […]...
36. A Hole In The Floor for Rene Magritte The carpenter’s made a hole In the parlor floor, and I’m standing Staring down into it now At four o’clock in the evening, As Schliemann stood when his shovel Knocked on the crowns of Troy. A clean-cut sawdust sparkles On the grey, shaggy laths, And here is a cluster of shavings >From […]...
37. The Conjugation of the Paramecium This has nothing To do with Propagating The species Is continued As so many are (among the smaller creatures) By fission (and this species Is very small Next in order to The amoeba, the beginning one) The paramecium Achieves, then, Immortality By dividing But when The paramecium Desires renewal Strength another joy This is what […]...
38. Astrophel and Stella: I ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: I Loving in truth, and fain in verse my love to show, That she, dear she, might take some pleasure of my pain, Pleasure might cause her read, reading might make her know, Knowledge might pity win, and pity grace obtain, I sought fit words to paint the blackest face of woe; […]...
39. From "THE TALK OF FLOWERS&quot I do not know, whether the sun Accomplished it, The rain or wind – But I was missing so The whiteness and the snow. I listened to the rustling Of spring rain, Washing the reddish buds Of chestnut-trees, – And a tiny spring ran down Into the valley from the hill – And I was […]...
40. I Have A Rendezvous With Death I have a rendezvous with Death At some disputed barricade, When Spring comes back with rustling shade And apple-blossoms fill the air – I have a rendezvous with Death When Spring brings back blue days and fair. It may be he shall take my hand And lead me into his dark land And close my […]...