Poem (In the morning, when it was raining)

Related poetry:

1. The First Night Of Fall And Falling Rain The common rain had come again Slanting and colorless, pale and anonymous, Fainting falling in the first evening Of the first perception of the actual fall, The long and late light had slowly gathered up A sooty wood of clouded sky, dim and distant more and more Until, at dusk, the very sense of selfhood […]...
2. The Red Blaze is the Morning The Red Blaze is the Morning The Violet is Noon The Yellow Day is falling And after that is none But Miles of Sparks at Evening Reveal the Width that burned The Territory Argent that Never yet consumed...
3. Morning Poem Every morning The world Is created. Under the orange Sticks of the sun The heaped Ashes of the night Turn into leaves again And fasten themselves to the high branches – And the ponds appear Like black cloth On which are painted islands Of summer lilies. If it is your nature To be happy You […]...
4. Poem (Old man in the crystal morning after snow) Old man in the crystal morning after snow, Your throat swathed in a muffler, your bent Figure building the snow man which is meant For the grandchild’s target, do you know This fat cartoon, his eyes pocked in with coal Nears you each time your breath smokes the air, Lewdly grinning out of a private […]...
5. It's Raining In Love I don’t know what it is, but I distrust myself when I start to like a girl a lot. It makes me nervous. I don’t say the right things or perhaps I start to examine, evaluate, compute what I am saying. If I say, “Do you think it’s going to rain?” and she says, “I […]...
6. Poem Written At Morning A sunny day’s complete Poussiniana Divide it from itself. It is this or that And it is not. By metaphor you paint A thing. Thus, the pineapple was a leather fruit, A fruit for pewter, thorned and palmed and blue, To be served by men of ice. The senses paint By metaphor. The juice was […]...
7. Morning The mist has left the greening plain, The dew-drops shine like fairy rain, The coquette rose awakes again Her lovely self adorning. The Wind is hiding in the trees, A sighing, soothing, laughing tease, Until the rose says “Kiss me, please,” ‘Tis morning, ’tis morning. With staff in hand and careless-free, The wanderer fares right […]...
8. Morning Poem #48 cold bed Gray day Memories Of “birds of prey” Talk for the sake Of words shaping Mouth moving Thoughts changing Energy moving Outside of self Talk for the sake Of a warm bed A sanny day And memories Of birds at play...
9. Morning Poem #40 pink around a Circle of pink Around a shimmer Of found reason Pink around a Glimmering white Shaked around A sound blue Somehow in the Touch of green Looped inside Loops abound A bound ribbon A hope bow bows In a rare season...
10. Morning Poem #43 I close my eyes And there it is A concrete walkway Leading out of a Small village Hugging the sides Of a green green Tree filled mountainside And to the right A pipe railing Paited the color Of oxidized metaland even firther To my right A small beach Costline-an ocean All under a pale blue […]...
11. Morning Poem #6 groggy voice Hangover head Phone rongs Work call Money writing Muddled thoughts Adrenaline rush Hands clutch Power book Pauses comerapid doubts Make calls Take notes Ming push Fear waits...
12. Morning Poem #1 floating gray web pages Step into a crowded vacuum Clouds sweating There’s a gauzy scrim In front of my eyes Between me and The rest of the world Afternoon birds...
13. Morning Poem #39 if she took off her top Would that embarrass you Would you smile and laugh newvously Would there be Room on the roof For the orgy If the music was a little louder Would you remember The color of her eyes...
14. Poem (Faithful to your commands, o consciousness) Poem Faithful to your commands, o consciousness, o Beating wings, I studied The roses and the muses of reality, The deceptions and the deceptive elation of the redness of the growing morning, And all the greened and thomed variety of the vines of error, which begin by promising Everything and more than everything, and then […]...
15. This Morning Enter without knocking, hard-working ant. I’m just sitting here mulling over What to do this dark, overcast day? It was a night of the radio turned down low, Fitful sleep, vague, troubling dreams. I woke up lovesick and confused. I thought I heard Estella in the garden singing And some bird answering her, But it […]...
16. Epithalamium: A Marriage Poem ‘Twas summer, when softly the breezes were blowing, And Hudson majestic so sweetly was flowing, The groves rang with music & accents of pleasure And nature in rapture beat time to the measure, When Helen and Jonas, so true and so loving, Along the green lawn were seen arm in arm moving, Sweet daffodils, violets […]...
17. Written On Sunday Morning Go thou and seek the House of Prayer! I to the Woodlands wend, and there In lovely Nature see the GOD OF LOVE. The swelling organ’s peal Wakes not my soul to zeal, Like the wild music of the wind-swept grove. The gorgeous altar and the mystic vest Rouse not such ardor in my breast, […]...
18. To read in the morning and at night Morgens und abends zu lesen Der, den ich liebe Hat mir gesagt DaЯ er mich braucht. Darum Gebe ich auf mich acht Sehe auf meinen Weg und Fürchte von jedem Regentropfen DaЯ er mich erschlagen könnte. [Translation] To read in the morning and at night My love Has told me That he needs me. That’s […]...
19. The Sun just touched the Morning The Sun just touched the Morning The Morning Happy thing Supposed that He had come to dwell And Life would all be Spring! She felt herself supremer A Raised Ethereal Thing! Henceforth for Her What Holiday! Meanwhile Her wheeling King Trailed slow along the Orchards His haughty spangled Hems Leaving a new necessity! The want […]...
20. Temporary Poem Of My Time Hebrew writing and Arabic writing go from east to west, Latin writing, from west to east. Languages are like cats: You must not stroke their hair the wrong way. The clouds come from the sea, the hot wind from the desert, The trees bend in the wind, And stones fly from all four winds, Into […]...
21. 213. Song-Up in the Morning Early CAULD blaws the wind frae east to west, The drift is driving sairly; Sae loud and shill’s I hear the blast- I’m sure it’s winter fairly. Chorus.-Up in the morning’s no for me, Up in the morning early; When a’ the hills are covered wi’ snaw, I’m sure it’s winter fairly. The birds sit chittering […]...
22. Early In The Morning I Hear On Your Piano EARLY in the morning I hear on your piano You (at least, I guess it’s you) proceed to learn to play. Mostly little minds should take and tackle their piano While the birds are singing in the morning of the day....
23. It Is March It is March and black dust falls out of the books Soon I will be gone The tall spirit who lodged here has Left already On the avenues the colorless thread lies under Old prices When you look back there is always the past Even when it has vanished But when you look forward With […]...
24. Poem in Prose This poem is for my wife. I have made it plainly and honestly: The mark is on it Like the burl on the knife. I have not made it for praise. She has no more need for praise Than summer has Or the bright days. In all that becomes a woman Her words and her […]...
25. Morning Express Along the wind-swept platform, pinched and white, The travellers stand in pools of wintry light, Offering themselves to morn’s long, slanting arrows. The train’s due; porters trundle laden barrows. The train steams in, volleying resplendent clouds Of sun-blown vapour. Hither and about, Scared people hurry, storming the doors in crowds. The officials seem to waken […]...
26. The Day Is A Poem (September 19, 1939) This morning Hitler spoke in Danzig, we hear his voice. A man of genius: that is, of amazing Ability, courage, devotion, cored on a sick child’s soul, Heard clearly through the dog wrath, a sick child Wailing in Danzig; invoking destruction and wailing at it. Here, the day was extremely hot; about noon A south […]...
27. The Inward Morning Packed in my mind lie all the clothes Which outward nature wears, And in its fashion’s hourly change It all things else repairs. In vain I look for change abroad, And can no difference find, Till some new ray of peace uncalled Illumes my inmost mind. What is it gilds the trees and clouds, And […]...
28. SECOND POEM Morning again, nothing has to be done, maybe buy a piano or make fudge. At least clean the room up for sure like my farther I’ve done flick the ashes & butts over the bed side on the floor. But frist of all wipe my glasses and drink the water to clean the smelly mouth. […]...
29. Poem In October It was my thirtieth year to heaven Woke to my hearing from harbour and neighbour wood And the mussel pooled and the heron Priested shore The morning beckon With water praying and call of seagull and rook And the knock of sailing boats on the net webbed wall Myself to set foot That second In […]...
30. In The Naked Bed, In Plato's Cave In the naked bed, in Plato’s cave, Reflected headlights slowly slid the wall, Carpenters hammered under the shaded window, Wind troubled the window curtains all night long, A fleet of trucks strained uphill, grinding, Their freights covered, as usual. The ceiling lightened again, the slanting diagram Slid slowly forth. Hearing the milkman’s clop, His striving […]...
31. Sunday Morning 1 Complacencies of the peignoir, and late Coffee and oranges in a sunny chair, And the green freedom of a cockatoo Upon a rug mingle to dissipate The holy hush of ancient sacrifice. She dreams a little, and she feels the dark Encroachment of that old catastrophe, As a calm darkens among water-lights. The pungent […]...
32. Far Rockaway Night till Morning WHAT can we say of the night? The fog night, the moon night, the fog moon night last night? There swept out of the sea a song. There swept out of the sea-torn white plungers. There came on the coast wind drive In the spit of a driven spray, On the boom of foam and […]...
33. Morning Song Of Senlin from Senlin: A Biography It is morning, Senlin says, and in the morning When the light drips through the shutters like the dew, I arise, I face the sunrise, And do the things my fathers learned to do. Stars in the purple dusk above the rooftops Pale in a saffron mist and seem to die, […]...
34. To Be Read In The Morning And At Night My love Has told me That he needs me. That’s why I take good care of myself Watch out where I’m going and Fear that any drop of rain Might kill me....
35. Night Poem There is nothing to be afraid of, It is only the wind Changing to the east, it is only Your father the thunder Your mother the rain In this country of water With its beige moon damp as a mushroom, Its drowned stumps and long birds That swim, where the moss grows On all sides […]...
36. The Song of the Ungirt Runners We swing ungirded hips, And lightened are our eyes, The rain is on our lips, We do not run for prize. We know not whom we trust Nor whitherward we fare, But we run because we must Through the great wide air. The waters of the seas Are troubled as by storm. The tempest strips […]...
37. From Far, From Eve and Morning From far, from eve and morning And yon twelve-winded sky, The stuff of life to knit me Blew hither: here am I. Now for a breath I tarry Nor yet disperse apart Take my hand quick and tell me, What have you in your heart. Speak now, and I will answer; How shall I help […]...
38. The Morning Star IN the black pool of the midnight Lu has slung the morning star, And its foam in rippling silver whitens into day afar Falling on the mountain rampart piled with pearl above our glen, Only you and I, beloved, moving in the fields of men. In the dark tarn of my spirit, love, the morning […]...
39. Taken from men this morning Taken from men this morning Carried by men today Met by the Gods with banners Who marshalled her away One little maid from playmates One little mind from school There must be guests in Eden All the rooms are full Far as the East from Even Dim as the border star Courtiers quaint, in Kingdoms […]...
40. Poem (The spirit likes to dress up…) The spirit likes to dress up like this: ten fingers, ten toes, Shoulders, and all the rest at night in the black branches, in the morning In the blue branches of the world. It could float, of course, but would rather Plumb rough matter. Airy and shapeless thing, it needs the metaphor of the body, […]...