Philology Recapitulates Ontology, Poetry Is Ontology

Related poetry:

1. Apollo Musagete, Poetry, And The Leader Of The Muses Nothing is given which is not taken. Little or nothing is taken which is not freely desired, freely, truly and fully. “You would not seek me if you had not found me”: this is true of all that is supremely desired and admired… “An enigma is an animal,” said the hurried, harried schoolboy: And a […]...
2. 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....
3. Some Like Poetry Write it. Write. In ordinary ink On ordinary paper: they were given no food, They all died of hunger. “All. How many? It’s a big meadow. How much grass For each one?” Write: I don’t know. History counts its skeletons in round numbers. A thousand and one remains a thousand, As though the one had […]...
4. A Poetry Reading At West Point I read to the entire plebe class, In two batches. Twice the hall filled With bodies dressed alike, each toting A copy of my book. What would my Shrink say, if I had one, about Such a dream, if it were a dream? Question and answer time. “Sir,” a cadet yelled from the balcony, And […]...
5. Now Finale to the Shore NOW finale to the shore! Now, land and life, finale, and farewell! Now Voyager depart! (much, much for thee is yet in store;) Often enough hast thou adventur’d o’er the seas, Cautiously cruising, studying the charts, Duly again to port, and hawser’s tie, returning: -But now obey, thy cherish’d, secret wish, Embrace thy friends-leave all […]...
6. Sonnet Suggested By Homer, Chaucer, Shakespeare, Edgar Allan Poe, Paul Vakzy, James Joyce, Et Al Let me not, ever, to the marriage in Cana Of Galilee admit the slightest sentiment Of doubt about the astonishing and sustaining manna Of chance and choice to throw a shadow’s element Of disbelief in truth Love is not love Nor is the love of love its truth in consciousness If it can be made […]...
7. The Spirit of Poetry There is a quiet spirit in these woods, That dwells where’er the gentle south-wind blows; Where, underneath the white-thorn, in the glade, The wild flowers bloom, or, kissing the soft air, The leaves above their sunny palms outspread. With what a tender and impassioned voice It fills the nice and delicate ear of thought, When […]...
8. HIS POETRY HIS PILLAR Only a little more I have to write: Then I’ll give o’er, And bid the world good-night. ‘Tis but a flying minute, That I must stay, Or linger in it: And then I must away. O Time, that cut’st down all, And scarce leav’st here Memorial Of any men that were; How many lie forgot […]...
9. Poetry In the same way that the mindless diamond keeps One spark of the planet’s early fires Trapped forever in its net of ice, It’s not love’s later heat that poetry holds, But the atom of the love that drew it forth From the silence: so if the bright coal of his love Begins to smoulder, […]...
10. Poetry Sometimes I tremble like a storm-swept flower, And seek to hide my tortured soul from thee. Bowing my head in deep humility Before the silent thunder of thy power. Sometimes I flee before thy blazing light, As from the specter of pursuing death; Intimidated lest thy mighty breath, Windways, will sweep me into utter night. […]...
11. The Art Of Poetry To gaze at a river made of time and water And remember Time is another river. To know we stray like a river And our faces vanish like water. To feel that waking is another dream That dreams of not dreaming and that the death We fear in our bones is the death That every […]...
12. The Albatross Often, to amuse themselves, the crew of the ship Would fell an albatross, the largest of sea birds, Indolent companions of their trip As they slide across the deep sea’s bitters. Scarcely had they dropped to the plank Than these blue kings, maladroit and ashamed Let their great white wings sink Like an oar dragging […]...
13. 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 […]...
14. AN EVENING OF POETRY Arriving for a reading an hour too early: Ruefully, the general manager stopped putting out the chairs. “You don’t get any help these days. I have To sort out everything from furniture to faxes. Why not wander round the park? There are ducks And benches where you can sit and watch.” I realized it was […]...
15. The Correspondence School Instructor Says Goodbye To His Poetry Students Goodbye, lady in Bangor, who sent me Snapshots of yourself, after definitely hinting You were beautiful; goodbye, Miami Beach urologist, who enclosed plain Brown envelopes for the return of your very Clinical Sonnet; goodbye, manufacturer Of brassieres on the Coast, whose eclogues Give the fullest treatment in literature yet To the sagging-breast motif; goodbye, you […]...
16. ON FIRST READING JOHN GOODBY'S 'IRISH POETRY SINCE 1950&#039 Barbarous insult to Yeats’ memory and Claudel’s Allen, thank God you are dead, you who breathed the air of Apollinaire, Ghost of Reverdy bear witness to the mendacity of his clamour, Hart Crane, rise from the estuary of the great river you drowned in, John Clare, rise from your country churchyard grave, Gray, from your […]...
17. Admire their style I’m reading fellow poets’ blogs today, A sustaining source of entertainment; I admire their style without exciting comment Or resorting to an unkind eye, simple though It is to sigh about uneasy affirmation. I hope when they read me (if they ever do) They rest as easy on my lack of finished form, The hazy, […]...
18. Sea Change “Goneys an’ gullies an’ all o’ the birds o’ the sea They ain’t no birds, not really”, said Billy the Dane. “Not mollies, nor gullies, nor goneys at all”, said he, “But simply the sperrits of mariners livin’ again. “Them birds goin’ fishin’ is nothin’ but the souls o’ the drowned, Souls o’ the drowned, […]...
19. The Woodlark Teevo cheevo cheevio chee: O where, what can thбat be? Weedio-weedio: there again! So tiny a trickle of sуng-strain; And all round not to be found For brier, bough, furrow, or grйen ground Before or behind or far or at hand Either left either right Anywhere in the sъnlight. Well, after all! Ah but hark- […]...
20. The Progress of Poetry The Farmer’s Goose, who in the Stubble, Has fed without Restraint, or Trouble; Grown fat with Corn and Sitting still, Can scarce get o’er the Barn-Door Sill: And hardly waddles forth, to cool Her Belly in the neighb’ring Pool: Nor loudly cackles at the Door; For Cackling shews the Goose is poor. But when she […]...
21. Holy Sonnet V: I Am A Little World Made Cunningly I am a little world made cunningly Of elements, and an angelic sprite; But black sin hath betrayed to endless night My worlds both parts, and (oh!) both parts must die. You which beyond that heaven which was most high Have found new spheres, and of new lands can write, Pour new seas in mine […]...
22. 74. Fragment-Her Flwoing Locks HER flowing locks, the raven’s wing, Adown her neck and bosom hing; How sweet unto that breast to cling, And round that neck entwine her! Her lips are roses wat wi’ dew, O’ what a feast her bonie mou’! Her cheeks a mair celestial hue, A crimson still diviner!...
23. The house where I was born (02) I woke up, it was the house where I was born. It was raining softly in all the rooms, I went from one to another, looking at The water that shone on the mirrors Piled up everywhere, some broken or even Pushed between the furniture and the walls. It was from these reflections that sometimes […]...
24. To the Muse of Poetry EXULT MY MUSE! exult to see Each envious, waspish, jealous thing, Around its harmless venom fling, And dart its powerless fangs at THEE! Ne’er shalt THOU bend thy radiant wing, To sweep the dark revengeful string; Or meanly stoop, to steal a ray, E’en from RINALDO’S glorious lay, Tho’ his transcendent Verse should twine About […]...
25. 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 […]...
26. TO WILLIAM E. CHANNING The pages of thy book I read, And as I closed each one, My heart, responding, ever said, “Servant of God! well done!” Well done! Thy words are great and bold; At times they seem to me, Like Luther’s, in the days of old, Half-battles for the free. Go on, until this land revokes The […]...
27. The missing the way loss seeps Into neck hollows And curls at temples Sits between front teeth Cavity Empty and waiting For mourning to open The way mourning stays Forever shadowing vision Shaping lives with memory A drawer won’t close Sleep elusive Smile illusive The only real is grief Forever counting the days Minutes missing without knowing […]...
28. Emmett Till * I hear a whistling Through the water. Little Emmett Won’t be still. He keeps floating Round the darkness, Edging through The silent chill. Tell me, please, That bedtime story Of the fairy River Boy Who swims forever, Deep in treasures, Necklaced in A coral toy. * In 1955, Till, a fourteen-year-old from Chicago, for Allegedly […]...
29. How Solemn as One by One HOW solemn, as one by one, As the ranks returning, all worn and sweaty-as the men file by where I stand; As the faces, the masks appear-as I glance at the faces, studying the masks; (As I glance upward out of this page, studying you, dear friend, whoever you are;) How solemn the thought of […]...
30. "I Love You Sweatheart&quot A man risked his life to write the words. A man hung upside down (an idiot friend Holding his legs?) with spray paint To write the words on a girder fifty feet above A highway. And his beloved, The next morning driving to work…? His words are not (meant to be) so unique. Does she […]...
31. To A Friend Whose Work Has Come To Triumph Consider Icarus, pasting those sticky wintgs on, Testing that strange little tug at his shoulder blade, And think of that first flawless moment over the lawn Of the labyrinth. Think of the difference it made! There below are the trees, as awkward as camels; And here are the shocked starlings pumping past And think of […]...
32. The Poetry Of Life “Who would himself with shadows entertain, Or gild his life with lights that shine in vain, Or nurse false hopes that do but cheat the true? Though with my dream my heaven should be resigned Though the free-pinioned soul that once could dwell In the large empire of the possible, This workday life with iron […]...
33. A Visitor in Marl A Visitor in Marl Who influences Flowers Till they are orderly as Busts And Elegant as Glass Who visits in the Night And just before the Sun Concludes his glistening interview Caresses and is gone But whom his fingers touched And where his feet have run And whatsoever Mouth be kissed Is as it had […]...
34. Poetry I, too, dislike it: there are things that are important beyond all this fiddle. Reading it, however, with a perfect contempt for it, one discovers in it after all, a place for the genuine. Hands that can grasp, eyes that can dilate, hair that can rise if it must, these things are important not because […]...
35. Poetry Of Departures Sometimes you hear, fifth-hand, As epitaph: He chucked up everything And just cleared off, And always the voice will sound Certain you approve This audacious, purifying, Elemental move. And they are right, I think. We all hate home And having to be there: I detect my room, It’s specially-chosen junk, The good books, the good […]...
36. Poetry For Supper ‘Listen, now, verse should be as natural As the small tuber that feeds on muck And grows slowly from obtuse soil To the white flower of immortal beauty.’ ‘Natural, hell! What was it Chaucer Said once about the long toil That goes like blood to the poem’s making? Leave it to nature and the verse […]...
37. In Dispraise Of Poetry When the King of Siam disliked a courtier, He gave him a beautiful white elephant. The miracle beast deserved such ritual That to care for him properly meant ruin. Yet to care for him improperly was worse. It appears the gift could not be refused....
38. The Uses Of Poetry I’ve fond anticipation of a day O’erfilled with pure diversion presently, For I must read a lady poesy The while we glide by many a leafy bay, Hid deep in rushes, where at random play The glossy black winged May-flies, or whence flee Hush-throated nestlings in alarm, Whom we have idly frighted with our boat’s […]...
39. To the Snake Green Snake, when I hung you round my neck And stroked your cold, pulsing throat As you hissed to me, glinting Arrowy gold scales, and I felt The weight of you on my shoulders, And the whispering silver of your dryness Sounded close at my ears Green Snake I swore to my companions that certainly […]...
40. POETRY GOD to his untaught children sent Law, order, knowledge, art, from high, And ev’ry heav’nly favour lent, The world’s hard lot to qualify. They knew not how they should behave, For all from Heav’n stark-naked came; But Poetry their garments gave, And then not one had cause for shame. 1816....