Enthusiasm

Related poetry:

1. Cacoethes Scribendi If all the trees in all the woods were men; And each and every blade of grass a pen; If every leaf on every shrub and tree Turned to a sheet of foolscap; every sea Were changed to ink, and all earth’s living tribes Had nothing else to do but act as scribes, And for […]...
2. Whats The Use Of A Title? They dont make it The beautiful die in flame – Sucide pills, rat poison, rope what – Ever… They rip their arms off, Throw themselves out of windows, They pull their eyes out of the sockets, Reject love Reject hate Reject, reject. They do’nt make it The beautiful can’t endure, They are butterflies They are […]...
3. The New World A man roams the streets with a basket Of freestone peaches hollering, “Peaches, Peaches, yellow freestone peaches for sale.” My grandfather in his prime could outshout The Tigers of Wrath or the factory whistles Along the river. Hamtramck hungered For yellow freestone peaches, downriver Wakened from a dream of work, Zug Island danced Into the […]...
4. Peach-power peaches exude this thrall – Reminders of those luscious Whereabouts that lips Best find their precious sips To cry let this be all They lull so well endowed With dreams of wanting flesh Who can resist their touch Not they who wishing much Sigh o you do me proud And yield in fruitful dreams To […]...
5. Between the Dusk of a Summer Night Between the dusk of a summer night And the dawn of a summer day, We caught at a mood as it passed in flight, And we bade it stoop and stay. And what with the dawn of night began With the dusk of day was done; For that is the way of woman and man, […]...
6. Willard Fluke My wife lost her health, And dwindled until she weighed scarce ninety pounds. Then that woman, whom the men Styled Cleopatra, came along. And we we married ones All broke our vows, myself among the rest. Years passed and one by one Death claimed them all in some hideous form, And I was borne along […]...
7. The Sugar-Plum Tree Have you ever heard of the Sugar-Plum Tree? ‘T is a marvel of great renown! It blooms on the shore of the Lollipop sea In the garden of Shut-Eye Town; The fruit that it bears is so wondrously sweet (As those who have tasted it say) That good little children have only to eat Of […]...
8. Not yet 40, my beard is already white Not yet 40, my beard is already white. Not yet awake, my eyes are puffy and red, Like a child who has cried too much. What is more disagreeable Than last night’s wine? I’ll shave. I’ll stick my head in the cold spring and Look around at the pebbles. Maybe I can eat a can […]...
9. Le Gout du Néant Morne esprit, autrefois amoureux de la lutte, L’Espoir, dont l’éperon attisait ton ardeur, Ne veut plus t’enfourcher! Couche-toi sans pudeur, Vieux cheval dont le pied à chaque obstacle bute. Résigne-toi, mon coeur; dors ton sommeil de brute. Esprit vaincu, fourbu! Pour toi, vieux maraudeur, L’amour n’a plus de gout, non plus que la dispute; Adieu […]...
10. The Married Man The bachelor ‘e fights for one As joyful as can be; But the married man don’t call it fun, Because ‘e fights for three For ‘Im an’ ‘Er an’ It (An’ Two an’ One make Three) ‘E wants to finish ‘is little bit, An’ e’ wants to go ‘ome to is tea! The bachelor pokes […]...
11. Job Interview Think you, if Laura had been Petrarch’s wife He would have written sonnets all his life? DON JUAN, III, 63-4 “Where do you see yourself five years from now?” The eldest male member (or is “male member” A redundancy?) of the committee Asked me. “Not here,” I thought. A good thing I Speak fluent Fog. […]...
12. A Death Song What cometh here from west to east awending? And who are these, the marchers stern and slow? We bear the message that the rich are sending Aback to those who bade them wake and know. Not one, not one, nor thousands must they slay, But one and all if they would dusk the day. We […]...
13. Cotton Song Come, brother, come. Lets lift it; Come now, hewit! roll away! Shackles fall upon the Judgment Day But lets not wait for it. God’s body’s got a soul, Bodies like to roll the soul, Cant blame God if we dont roll, Come, brother, roll, roll! Cotton bales are the fleecy way, Weary sinner’s bare feet […]...
14. John Horace Burleson I won the prize essay at school Here in the village, And published a novel before I was twenty-five. I went to the city for themes and to enrich my art; There married the banker’s daughter, And later became president of the bank- Always looking forward to some leisure To write an epic novel of […]...
15. Barnacles My soul is sailing through the sea, But the Past is heavy and hindereth me. The Past hath crusted cumbrous shells That hold the flesh of cold sea-mells About my soul. The huge waves wash, the high waves roll, Each barnacle clingeth and worketh dole And hindereth me from sailing! Old Past let go, and […]...
16. Pensive and Faltering PENSIVE and faltering, The words, the dead, I write; For living are the Dead; (Haply the only living, only real, And I the apparition-I the spectre.) 5...
17. Spring When daisies pied, and violets blue, And lady-smocks all silver-white, And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue Do paint the meadows with delight, The cuckoo then, on every tree, Mocks married men, for thus sings he: ‘Cuckoo! Cuckoo, cuckoo!’ O word of fear, Unpleasing to a married ear. When shepherds pipe on oaten straws, And merry larks […]...
18. Hamlet Off-Stage: She Wheel Ophelia puked hourly dawn till dusk, Retching mucous slobber, then spewing air. Scum that I am, I never stopped thinking What a beauty: small Icelandic hooters, Femme d’Bumpers, on whom all fun depends. Woman’s the car, man the hood ornament. She lay there so sick she wasn’t human, More an engine blowing jello gaskets. Yet, […]...
19. 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’ […]...
20. The Fisherman Although I can see him still. The freckled man who goes To a grey place on a hill In grey Connemara clothes At dawn to cast his flies, It’s long since I began To call up to the eyes This wise and simple man. All day I’d looked in the face What I had hoped […]...
21. Another Song Words go on travelling from voice To voice while the phones are still And the wires hum in the cold. Now And then dark winter birds settle Slowly on the crossbars, where huddled They caw out their loneliness. Except For them the March world is white And barely alive. The train to Providence Moans somewhere […]...
22. Elizabeth Gone 1. You lay in the nest of your real death, Beyond the print of my nervous fingers Where they touched your moving head; Your old skin puckering, your lungs’ breath Grown baby short as you looked up last At my face swinging over the human bed, And somewhere you cried, let me go let me […]...
23. The Owl The path was purple in the dusk. I saw an owl, perched, On a branch. And when the owl stirred, a fine dust Fell from its wings. I was Silent then. And felt The owl quaver. And at dawn, waking, The path was green in the May light....
24. Anthem For Doomed Youth What passing-bells for these who die as cattle? Only the monstrous anger of the guns. Only the stuttering rifles’ rapid rattle Can patter out their hasty orisons. No mockeries for them; no prayers nor bells, Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs, The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells; And bugles calling for them […]...
25. November No sun – no moon! No morn – no noon – No dawn – no dusk – no proper time of day. No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease, No comfortable feel in any member – No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees, No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds! – November!...
26. An Eternity There is no dusk to be, There is no dawn that was, Only there’s now, and now, And the wind in the grass. Days I remember of Now in my heart, are now; Days that I dream will bloom White the peach bough. Dying shall never be Now in the windy grass; Now under shooken […]...
27. The Songs of the Lathes 1918Being the Words of the Tune Hummed at Her Lathe by Mrs. L. Embsay, Widow The fans and the beltings they roar round me. The power is shaking the floor round me Till the lathes pick up their duty and the midnight-shift takes over. It is good for me to be here! Guns in Flanders […]...
28. Sea Poppies Amber husk Fluted with gold, Fruit on the sand Marked with a rich grain, Treasure Spilled near the shrub-pines To bleach on the boulders: Your stalk has caught root Among wet pebbles And drift flung by the sea And grated shells And split conch-shells. Beautiful, wide-spread, Fire upon leaf, What meadow yields So fragrant a […]...
29. Roscoe Purkapile She loved me. Oh! how she loved me! I never had a chance to escape From the day she first saw me. But then after we were married I thought She might prove her mortality and let me out, Or she might divorce me. But few die, none resign. Then I ran away and was […]...
30. 276. Song-Whistle o'er the lave o't FIRST when Maggie was my care, Heav’n, I thought, was in her air, Now we’re married-speir nae mair, But whistle o’er the lave o’t! Meg was meek, and Meg was mild, Sweet and harmless as a child- Wiser men than me’s beguil’d; Whistle o’er the lave o’t! How we live, my Meg and me, How […]...
31. The Garret Come, let us pity those who are better off than we are. Come, my friend, and remember that the rich have butlers and no friends, And we have friends and no butlers. Come, let us pity the married and the unmarried. Dawn enters with little feet like a gilded Pavlova And I am near my […]...
32. Gazing at the Sacred Peak For all this, what is the mountain god like? An unending green of lands north and south: From ethereal beauty Creation distills There, yin and yang split dusk and dawn. Swelling clouds sweep by. Returning birds Ruin my eyes vanishing. One day soon, At the summit, the other mountains will be Small enough to hold, […]...
33. She Spins Silk Far up river in Szechuan, Waters rise as spring winds roar. How can I dare to meet her now, To brave the dangerous gorge? The grass grows green in the valley below Where silk worms silently spin. Her hands work threads that never end, Dawn to dusk when the cuckoo sings....
34. Tableau at Twilight I sit in the dusk. I am all alone. Enter a child and an ice-cream cone. A parent is easily beguiled By sight of this coniferous child. The friendly embers warmer gleam, The cone begins to drip ice cream. Cones are composed of many a vitamin. My lap is not the place to bitamin. Although […]...
35. Distressed Haiku In a week or ten days The snow and ice Will melt from Cemetery Road. I’m coming! Don’t move! Once again it is April. Today is the day We would have been married Twenty-six years. I finished with April Halfway through March. You think that their Dying is the worst Thing that could happen. Then […]...
36. Dreams in the dusk DREAMS in the dusk, Only dreams closing the day And with the day’s close going back To the gray things, the dark things, The far, deep things of dreamland. Dreams, only dreams in the dusk, Only the old remembered pictures Of lost days when the day’s loss Wrote in tears the heart’s loss. Tears and […]...
37. Nellie Clark I was only eight years old; And before I grew up and knew what it meant I had no words for it, except That I was frightened and told my Mother; And that my Father got a pistol And would have killed Charlie, who was a big boy, Fifteen years old, except for his Mother. […]...
38. A Meeting In a dream I meet My dead friend. He has, I know, gone long and far, And yet he is the same For the dead are changeless. They grow no older. It is I who have changed, Grown strange to what I was. Yet I, the changed one, Ask: “How you been?” He grins and […]...
39. Finale Here is this vale of sweet abiding, My ultimate and dulcet home, That gently dreams above the chiding Of restless and impatient foam; Beyond the hazards of hell weather, The harceling of wind and sea, With timbers morticed tight together My old hulk havens happily. The dawn exultantly discloses My lawn lit with mimosa gold; […]...
40. A Poem for Will, Baking Each night he stands before The kitchen island, begins again From scratch: chocolate, cinnamon, nutmeg, He beats, he folds; Keeps faith in what happens When you combine known quantities, Bake twelve minutes at a certain heat. The other rabbis, the scholars, Teenagers idling by the beach, They receive his offerings, In the early hours, share […]...