Darius

Related poetry:

1. Tenuous And Precarious Tenuous and Precarious Were my guardians, Precarious and Tenuous, Two Romans. My father was Hazardous, Hazardous Dear old man, Three Romans. There was my brother Spurious, Spurious Posthumous, Spurious was Spurious, Was four Romans. My husband was Perfidious, He was Perfidious Five Romans. Surreptitious, our son, Was Surreptitious, He was six Romans. Our cat Tedious […]...
2. To E. T I slumbered with your poems on my breast Spread open as I dropped them half-read through Like dove wings on a figure on a tomb To see, if in a dream they brought of you, I might not have the chance I missed in life Through some delay, and call you to your face First […]...
3. In 200 B. C “Alexander son of Philip, and the Greeks except the Lacedaemonians “ We can very well imagine That they were utterly indifferent in Sparta To this inscription. “Except the Lacedaemonians”, But naturally. The Spartans were not To be led and ordered about As precious servants. Besides A panhellenic campaign without A Spartan king as a leader […]...
4. Poseidonians The Poseidonians forgot the Greek language After so many centuries of mingling With Tyrrhenians, Latins, and other foreigners. The only thing surviving from their ancestors Was a Greek festival, with beautiful rites, With lyres and flutes, contests and wreaths. And it was their habit toward the festival’s end To tell each other about their ancient […]...
5. Big Hair Ithaca, October 1993: Jorie went on a lingerie Tear, wanting to look like a moll In a Chandler novel. Dinner, consisting of three parts gin And one part lime juice cordial, was a prelude to her hair. There are, she said, poems that can be written Only when the poet is clad in black underwear. […]...
6. One Of Their Gods When one of them passed through the market place Of Seleucia, toward the hour that night falls As a tall and perfectly handsome youth, With the joy of immortality in his eyes, With his scented black hair, The passers-by would stare at him And one would ask the other if he knew him, And if […]...
7. Ai There is a chimp named Ai who can count to five. There’s a poet named Ai whose selected poems Vice Just won the National Book Award. The name “Ai” is pronounced “I” So that whenever I talk about the poet Ai Such as I’m teaching Ai’s poems again this semester It sounds like I’m teaching […]...
8. Ave Caesar No bitterness: our ancestors did it. They were only ignorant and hopeful, they wanted freedom but wealth too. Their children will learn to hope for a Caesar. Or rather for we are not aquiline Romans but soft mixed colonists Some kindly Sicilian tyrant who’ll keep Poverty and Carthage off until the Romans arrive, We are […]...
9. Carthage Oh thou degenerate child of the great and glorious mother, Who with the Romans’ strong might couplest the Tyrians’ deceit! But those ever governed with vigor the earth they had conquered, These instructed the world that they with cunning had won. Say! what renown does history grant thee? Thou, Roman-like, gained’st That with the steel, […]...
10. Elizabeth Elizabeth, it surely is most fit [Logic and common usage so commanding] In thy own book that first thy name be writ, Zeno and other sages notwithstanding; And I have other reasons for so doing Besides my innate love of contradiction; Each poet – if a poet – in pursuing The muses thro’ their bowers […]...
11. Of Love & Sex said once a friend of mine That love was just a bucket of bullshit; then I Thought about his parents Wrote once a neighbour poet That sex was a thing overrated; so I Asked for her other poems...
12. On An Italian Shore Kimos, son of Menedoros, a young Greek-Italian, Devotes his life to amusing himself, Like most young men in Greater Greece Brought up in the lap of luxury. But today, in spite of his nature, He is preoccupied, dejected. Near the shore He watched, deeply distressed, as they unload Ships with booty taken from the Peloponnese. […]...
13. Days of 1986 He was believed by his peers to be an important poet, But his erotic obsession, condemned and strictly forbidden, Compromised his standing, and led to his ruin. Over sixty, and a father many times over, The objects of his attention grew younger and younger: He tried to corrupt the sons of his dearest friends; He […]...
14. If I Were King I often wish I were a King, And then I could do anything. If only I were King of Spain, I’d take my hat off in the rain. If only I were King of France, I wouldn’t brush my hair for aunts. I think, if I were King of Greece, I’d push things off the […]...
15. Dead poet I’m sure it would be easier to survive as a dead poet, I mean it in the surmise that I won’t be tempted To revise or rewrite the poem I wrote last night, or the Poems I wrote last week (which make me cringe when I Read them again), or when I read poetry of […]...
16. The Sunken Crown Nothing will hold him longer-let him go; Let him go down where others have gone down; Little he cares whether we smile or frown, Or if we know, or if we think we know. The call is on him for his overthrow, Say we; so let him rise, or let him drown. Poor fool! He […]...
17. Though I Thy Mithridates Were Though I thy Mithridates were, Framed to defy the poison-dart, Yet must thou fold me unaware To know the rapture of thy heart, And I but render and confess The malice of thy tenderness. For elegant and antique phrase, Dearest, my lips wax all too wise; Nor have I known a love whose praise Our […]...
18. The New Poetry Handbook 1 If a man understands a poem, he shall have troubles. 2 If a man lives with a poem, he shall die lonely. 3 If a man lives with two poems, he shall be unfaithful to one. 4 If a man conceives of a poem, he shall have one less child. 5 If a man […]...
19. Hymn 21 A vision of the kingdom of Christ among men. Rev. 21:1-4. Lo! what a glorious sight appears To our believing eyes! The earth and sea are passed away, And the old rolling skies. From the third heav’n, where God resides, That holy, happy place, The new Jerusalem comes down, Adorned with shining grace. Attending angels […]...
20. To the dead poet of obscurity (In honor of the dead unpublished poet) Well done! You have won! You should not feel sorry. Your unpublished poems -always remember- Have not been buried, Haven’t bent Under the strength of time. Like gold Inside the soil They remain, They never melt. They may be late But they will be given To their people […]...
21. The Poet The riches of the poet are equal to his poetry His power is his left hand It is idle weak and precious His poverty is his wealth, a wealth which may destroy him like Midas Because it is that laziness which is a form of impatience And this he may be destroyed by the gold […]...
22. Alexandrian Kings The Alexandrians were gathered To see Cleopatra’s children, Caesarion, and his little brothers, Alexander and Ptolemy, whom for the first Time they lead out to the Gymnasium, There to proclaim kings, In front of the grand assembly of the soldiers. Alexander they named him king Of Armenia, Media, and the Parthians. Ptolemy they named him […]...
23. Dream Song 33: An apple arc'd toward Kleitos; whose great King An apple arc’d toward Kleitos; whose great King Wroth & of wine did study where his sword, Sneaked away, might be. . . With swollen lids staggered up and clung Dim to the cloth of gold. An un-Greek word Blister, to him guard, And the trumpeter would not sound, fisted. Ha, They hustle Clitus out; […]...
24. Poem for My Wife This morning when we woke up The meat cages still locked us up* We took a bath so they’d look nice Had our breakfast of eggs and rice Wore the the stuff that Pinurbo** From his father once borrowed Braved the traffic never cool Sending our daughter to school Day by day we replay the […]...
25. The Spring (After Rilke) Spring has returned! Everything has returned! The earth, just like a schoolgirl, memorizes Poems, so many poems. … Look, she has learned So many famous poems, she has earned so many prizes! Teacher was strict. We delighted in the white Of the old man’s beard, bright like the snow’s: Now we may ask […]...
26. 274. Song-Carle, an' the King come Chorus.-Carle, an the King come, Carle, an the King come, Thou shalt dance and I will sing, Carle, an the King come. AN SOMEBODY were come again, Then somebody maun cross the main, And every man shall hae his ain, Carle, an the King come. Carle, an the King come, &c. I trow we swapped […]...
27. To Lucy, Countess of Bedford, with John Donne's Satires Lucy, you brightness of our sphere, who are Life of the Muses’ day, their morning star! If works, not th’ author’s, their own grace should look, Whose poems would not wish to be your book? But these, desir’d by you, the maker’s ends Crown with their own. Rare poems ask rare friends. Yet satires, since […]...
28. Judson Stoddard On a mountain top above the clouds That streamed like a sea below me I said that peak is the thought of Budda, And that one is the prayer of Jesus, And this one is the dream of Plato, And that one there the song of Dante, And this is Kant and this is Newton, […]...
29. From: A King Of Kings, A King Among The Kings Come, let us rejoice in James Joyce, in the greatness of this poet, king, and king of poets For he is our poor dead king, he is the monarch and Caesar of English, he is the veritable King of the King’s English The English of the life of the city, and the English of music; […]...
30. The Planet On The Table Ariel was glad he had written his poems. They were of a remembered time Or of something seen that he liked. Other makings of the sun Were waste and welter And the ripe shrub writhed. His self and the sun were one And his poems, although makings of his self, Were no less makings of […]...
31. Cassandra O Hymen king. Hymen, O Hymen king, What bitter thing is this? What shaft, tearing my heart? What scar, what light, what fire Searing my eye-balls and my eyes with flame? Nameless, O spoken name, King, lord, speak blameless Hymen. Why do you blind my eyes? Why do you dart and pulse Till all the […]...
32. The Division Of The Earth “Take the world!” Zeus exclaimed from his throne in the skies To the children of man “take the world I now give; It shall ever remain as your heirloom and prize, So divide it as brothers, and happily live.” Then all who had hands sought their share to obtain, The young and the aged made […]...
33. The Poet Fears Failure The poet fears failure & so she says “Hold on pen What if the critics Hate me?” & with that question She blots out more lines Than any critic could. The critic is only doing his job: Keeping the poet lonely. He barks Like a dog at the door When the master comes home. It’s […]...
34. 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 […]...
35. A Following the phone rang at 1:30 a. m. and it was a man from Denver: “Chinaski, you got a following in Denver…” “yeah?” “yeah, I got a magazine and I want some poems from you…” “FUCK YOU, CHINASKI!” I heard a voice in the background… “I see you have a friend,” I said. “yeah,” he answered, […]...
36. Psalm 21 Our king is the care of Heaven. The king, O Lord, with songs of praise, Shall in thy strength rejoice; And, blest with thy salvation, raise To heav’n his cheerful voice. Thy sure defence through nations round Has spread his glorious name; And his successful actions crowned With majesty and fame. Then let the king […]...
37. Her "last Poems&quot Her “last Poems” Poets ended Silver perished with her Tongue Not on Record bubbled other, Flute or Woman So divine Not unto its Summer Morning Robin uttered Half the Tune Gushed too free for the Adoring From the Anglo-Florentine Late the Praise ‘Tis dull conferring On the Head too High to Crown Diadem or Ducal […]...
38. Hymn 61 Christ our High Priest and King. Rev. 1:5-7. Now to the Lord, that makes us know The wonders of his dying love, Be humble honors paid below, And strains of nobler praise above. ‘Twas he that cleansed our foulest sins, And washed us in his richest blood; ‘Tis he that makes us priests and kings, […]...
39. To The Stone-Cutters Stone-cutters fighting time with marble, you foredefeated Challengers of oblivion Eat cynical earnings, knowing rock splits, records fall down, The square-limbed Roman letters Scale in the thaws, wear in the rain. The poet as well Builds his monument mockingly; For man will be blotted out, the blithe earth die, the brave sun Die blind and […]...
40. Dream Song 48: He yelled at me in Greek He yelled at me in Greek, My God! —It’s not his language And I’m no good at—his Aramaic, Was—I am a monoglot of English (American version) and, say pieces from A baker’s dozen others: where’s the bread? But rising in the Second Gospel, pal: The seed goes down, god dies, A rising happens, Some crust, […]...