The Wooden Toy

Related poetry:

1. The Man with the Wooden Leg There was a man lived quite near us; He had a wooden leg and a goldfinch in a green cage. His name was Farkey Anderson, And he’d been in a war to get his leg. We were very sad about him, Because he had such a beautiful smile And was such a big man to […]...
2. 215. Song-Hey, the Dusty Miller HEY, the dusty Miller, And his dusty coat, He will win a shilling, Or he spend a groat: Dusty was the coat, Dusty was the colour, Dusty was the kiss That I gat frae the Miller. Hey, the dusty Miller, And his dusty sack; Leeze me on the calling Fills the dusty peck: Fills the […]...
3. Aubade JANE, Jane, Tall as a crane, The morning light creaks down again; Comb your cockscomb-ragged hair, Jane, Jane, come down the stair. Each dull blunt wooden stalactite Of rain creaks, hardened by the light, Sounding like an overtone From some lonely world unknown. But the creaking empty light Will never harden into sight, Will never […]...
4. The Line-Gang Here come the line-gang pioneering by, They throw a forest down less cut than broken. They plant dead trees for living, and the dead They string together with a living thread. They string an instrument against the sky Wherein words whether beaten out or spoken Will run as hushed as when they were a thought […]...
5. Shadow March All around the house is the jet-black night; It stares through the window-pane; It crawls in the corners, hiding from the light, And it moves with the moving flame. Now my little heart goes a beating like a drum, With the breath of the Bogies in my hair; And all around the candle and the […]...
6. In Memory Of My Mother I do not think of you lying in the wet clay Of a Monaghan graveyard; I see You walking down a lane among the poplars On your way to the station, or happily Going to second Mass on a summer Sunday You meet me and you say: ‘Don’t forget to see about the cattle ‘ […]...
7. Chords IN the morning, a Sunday morning, shadows of sea and adumbrants of rock in her eyes… horseback in leather boots and leather gauntlets by the sea. In the evening, a Sunday evening, a rope of pearls on her white shoulders… and a speaking, brooding black velvet, relapsing to the voiceless… battering Russian marches on a […]...
8. I know where Wells grow Droughtless Wells I know where Wells grow Droughtless Wells Deep dug for Summer days Where Mosses go no more away And Pebble safely plays It’s made of Fathoms and a Belt A Belt of jagged Stone Inlaid with Emerald half way down And Diamonds jumbled on It has no Bucket Were I rich A Bucket I would […]...
9. Rip It can’t be the passing of time that casts That white shadow across the waters Just offshore. I shiver a little, with the evening. I turn down the steep path to find What’s left of the river gold. I whistle a dog lazily, and lazily A bird whistles me. Close by a big river, I […]...
10. Someone's Mother Someone’s Mother trails the street Wrapt in rotted rags; Broken slippers on her feet Drearily she drags; Drifting in the bitter night, Gnawing gutter bread, With a face of tallow white, Listless as the dead. Someone’s Mother in the dim Of the grey church wall Hears within a Christmas hymn, One she can recall From […]...
11. The Meeting After so long an absence At last we meet agin: Does the meeting give us pleasure, Or does it give us pain? The tree of life has been shaken, And but few of us linger now, Like the prophets two or three berries In the top of the uppermost bough. We cordially greet each other […]...
12. Jan Kubelik YOUR bow swept over a string, and a long low note Quivered to the air. (A mother of Bohemia sobs over a new child perfect Learning to suck milk.) Your bow ran fast over all the high strings fluttering And wild. (All the girls in Bohemia are laughing on a Sunday afternoon In the hills […]...
13. Three Balls JABOWSKY’S place is on a side street and only the rain washes the dusty three balls. When I passed the window a month ago, there rested in proud isolation: A family bible with hasps of brass twisted off, a wooden clock with pendulum gone, And a porcelain crucifix with the glaze nicked where the left […]...
14. Night And Day The innocent, sweet Day is dead. Dark Night hath slain her in her bed. O, Moors are as fierce to kill as to wed! Put out the light, said he. A sweeter light than ever rayed From star of heaven or eye of maid Has vanished in the unknown Shade. She’s dead, she’s dead, said […]...
15. The House Of Dust: Part 03: 01: As evening falls As evening falls, And the yellow lights leap one by one Along high walls; And along black streets that glisten as if with rain, The muted city seems Like one in a restless sleep, who lies and dreams Of vague desires, and memories, and half-forgotten pain. . . Along dark veins, like lights the quick […]...
16. Unknown Bird Out of the dry days Through the dusty leaves Far across the valley Those few notes never Heard here before One fluted phrase Floating over its Wandering secret All at once wells up Somewhere else And is gone before it Goes on fallen into Its own echo leaving A hollow through the air That is […]...
17. Sunday Afternoons I sit at home At my desk alone As I used to do On many sunday afternoons When you came back to me, Your arms ached for me, And your arms would close me in Though they smelled of other women. I think of you On Sunday afternoons. Your sweet head would bow, Like a […]...
18. You, Andrew Marvell And here face down beneath the sun And here upon earth’s noonward height To feel the always coming on The always rising of the night To feel creep up the curving east The earthy chill of dusk and slow Upon those under lands the vast And ever climbing shadow grow And strange at Ecbatan the […]...
19. Edith Conant We stand about this place we, the memories; And shade our eyes because we dread to read: “June 17th, 1884, aged 21 years and 3 days.” And all things are changed. And we we, the memories, stand here for ourselves alone, For no eye marks us, or would know why we are here. Your husband […]...
20. Three-With the Moon and His Shadow With a jar of wine I sit by the flowering trees. I drink alone, and where are my friends? Ah, the moon above looks down on me; I call and lift my cup to his brightness. And see, there goes my shadow before me. Ho! We’re a party of three, I say,- Though the poor […]...
21. Manufactured Gods THEY put up big wooden gods. Then they burned the big wooden gods And put up brass gods and Changing their minds suddenly Knocked down the brass gods and put up A doughface god with gold earrings. The poor mutts, the pathetic slant heads, They didn’t know a little tin god Is as good as […]...
22. Towards Break Of Day Was it the double of my dream The woman that by me lay Dreamed, or did we halve a dream Under the first cold gleam of day? I thought: “There is a waterfall Upon Ben Bulben side That all my childhood counted dear; Were I to travel far and wide I could not find a […]...
23. Refrain The air is dark, the night is sad, I lie sleepless and I groan. Nobody cares when a man goes mad: He is sorry, God is glad. Shadow changes into bone. Every shadow has a name; When I think of mine I moan, I hear rumors of such fame. Not for pride, but only shame, […]...
24. Mother to Son Well, son, I’ll tell you: Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair. It’s had tacks in it, And splinters, And boards torn up, And places with no carpet on the floor— Bare. But all the time I’se been a-climbin’ on, And reachin’ landin’s, And turnin’ corners, And sometimes goin’ in the dark Where there […]...
25. " I'm A Jazz Singer, " She Replied He dug what she said: Bright jellies, smooth marmalade Spread on warm brown bread. “Jazz” from drowsy lips Orchids lift to honeybees Floating on long sips. “Jazz”: quick fingerpops Pancake on a griddle-top Of memories. Stop. “Jazz”: mysterious As nutmeg, missing fingers, Gold, Less serious. “Jazz”: cool bannister. Don’t need no stair. Ways to climb […]...
26. Some Things The World Gave 1 Times in the morning early When it rained and the long gray Buildings came forward from darkness Offering their windows for light. 2 Evenings out there on the plains When sunset donated farms That yearned so far to the west that the world Centered there and bowed down. 3 A teacher at a country […]...
27. A Brand New Life 1/ My dearest child, my dearest love Come to Ayah, who has just come My dearest star, my brightest sun Your loudest cries, my sweetest songs Your merry laughter, my constant prayer My dearest child, whenever you come Be you a son, be you a daughter Ayah’s been waiting here at home In quiet moments […]...
28. As Kingfishers Catch Fire As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame; As tumbled over rim in roundy wells Stones ring; like each tucked string tells, each hung bell’s Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name; Each mortal thing does one thing and the same: Deals out that being indoors each one dwells; Selves – goes itself; […]...
29. Million Man March Poem The night has been long, The wound has been deep, The pit has been dark, And the walls have been steep. Under a dead blue sky on a distant beach, I was dragged by my braids just beyond your reach. Your hands were tied, your mouth was bound, You couldn’t even call out my name. […]...
30. On the Wye in May Now is the perfect moment of the year. Half naked branches, half a mist of green, Vivid and delicate the slopes appear; The cool, soft air is neither fierce nor keen, And in the temperate sun we feel no fear; Of all the hours which shall be and have been, It is the briefest as […]...
31. Mummy's Curse Befriending an eccentric young woman The sole resident of a secluded Victorian mansion. She takes long walks in the evening rain, And so do I, with my hair full of dead leaves. In her former life, she was an opera singer. She remembers the rich Neapolitan pastries, Points to a bit of fresh whipped cream […]...
32. Butter Butter, like love, Seems common enough Yet has so many imitators. I held a brick of it, heavy and cool, And glimpsed what seemed like skin Beneath a corner of its wrap; The decolletage revealed A most attractive fat! And most refined. Not milk, not cream, Not even creme de la creme. It was a […]...
33. Sunflower Sutra I walked on the banks of the tincan banana dock and sat down under the huge shade of a Southern Pacific locomotive to look at the sunset over the box house hills and cry. Jack Kerouac sat beside me on a busted rusty iron pole, companion, we thought the same thoughts of the soul, bleak […]...
34. T. y. s. o. n Across the Queensland border line The mobs of cattle go; They travel down in sun and shine On dusty stage, and slow. The drovers, riding slowly on To let the cattle spread, Will say: “Here’s one old landmark gone, For old man Tyson’s dead.” What tales there’ll be in every camp By men that Tyson […]...
35. To Solitude O solitude! if I must with thee dwell, Let it not be among the jumbled heap Of murky buildings; climb with me the steep,- Nature’s observatory-whence the dell, Its flowery slopes, its river’s crystal swell, May seem a span; let me thy vigils keep ‘Mongst boughs pavillion’d, where the deer’s swift leap Startles the wild […]...
36. O Solitude! If I Must With Thee Dwell O Solitude! if I must with thee dwell, Let it not be among the jumbled heap Of murky buildings: climb with me the steep,- Nature’s observatory-whence the dell, In flowery slopes, its river’s crystal swell, May seem a span; let me thy vigils keep ‘Mongst boughs pavilioned, where the deer’s swift leap Startles the wild […]...
37. Kings Must Die Alphonso Rex who died in Rome Was quite a fistful as a kid; For when I visited his home, That gorgeous palace in Madrid, The grinning guide-chap showed me where He rode his bronco up the stair. That stairway grand of marbled might, The most majestic in the land, In statured splendour, flight on flight, […]...
38. My April Lady When down the stair at morning The sunbeams round her float, Sweet rivulets of laughter Are bubbling in her throat; The gladness of her greeting Is gold without alloy; And in the morning sunlight I think her name is Joy. When in the evening twilight The quiet book-room lies, We read the sad old ballads, […]...
39. The Hollow Men Mistah Kurtz he dead. A penny for the Old Guy I We are the hollow men We are the stuffed men Leaning together Headpiece filled with straw. Alas! Our dried voices, when We whisper together Are quiet and meaningless As wind in dry grass Or rats’ feet over broken glass In our dry cellar Shape […]...
40. Richard It’s mid-winter and the sunrise knows it, and wakes me With a shudder; I’m just a man. For 5 cold mornings in a row, the beautiful pheasant Has come to our patio to steal some of the dry catfood, Sometimes right in front of my cat. The house is still, and I enjoy the Sunday […]...