Rain Towards Morning

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1. Morning Rain A slight rain comes, bathed in dawn light. I hear it among treetop leaves before mist Arrives. Soon it sprinkles the soil and, Windblown, follows clouds away. Deepened Colors grace thatch homes for a moment. Flocks and herds of things wild glisten Faintly. Then the scent of musk opens across Half a mountain and lingers […]...
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. Rain Or Shine the vultures at the zoo (all three of the) Sit very quietly in their Caged tree And below On the ground Are chunks of rotten meat. The vultures are over-full. Our taxes have fed them Well. We move on to the next Cage. A man is in there Sitting on the ground Eating His own […]...
4. Cold Morning Through an accidental crack in the curtain I can see the eight o’clock light change from Charcoal to a faint gassy blue, inventing things In the morning that has a thick skin of ice on it As the water tank has, so nothing flows, all is bone, Telling its tale of how hard the night […]...
5. Poem (In the morning, when it was raining) In the morning, when it was raining, Then the birds were hectic and loudy; Through all the reign is fall’s entertaining; Their singing was erratic and full of disorder: They did not remember the summer blue Or the orange of June. They did not think at all Of the great red and bursting ball Of […]...
6. 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...
7. Rain Roads not yet glistening, rain slight, Broken clouds darken after thinning away. Where they drift, purple cliffs blacken. And beyond white birds blaze in flight. Sounds of cold-river rain grown familiar, Autumn sun casts moist shadows. Below Our brushwood gate, out to dry at the village Mill: hulled rice, half-wet and fragrant...
8. Easter Morning I have a life that did not become, That turned aside and stopped, Astonished: I hold it in me like a pregnancy or As on my lap a child Not to grow old but dwell on It is to his grave I most Frequently return and return To ask what is wrong, what was Wrong, […]...
9. Rain a symphony orchestra. There is a thunderstorm, They are playing a Wagner overture And the people leave their seats under the trees And run inside to the pavilion The women giggling, the men pretending calm, Wet cigarettes being thrown away, Wagner plays on, and then they are all under the Pavilion. the birds even come […]...
10. In My Lodge at Wang Chuan,(After a Long Rain.) The woods have stored the rain, and slow comes the smoke As rice is cooked on faggots and carried to the fields; Over the quiet marsh-land flies a white egret, And mango-birds are singing in the full summer trees…. I have learned to watch in peace the mountain morningglories, To eat split dewy sunflower-seeds under […]...
11. 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...
12. During Wind And Rain They sing their dearest songs He, she, all of them yea, Treble and tenor and bass, And one to play; With the candles mooning each face…. Ah, no; the years O! How the sick leaves reel down in throngs! They clear the creeping moss Elders and juniors aye, Making the pathways neat And the garden […]...
13. The Morning-Watch 1 O joys! infinite sweetness! with what flow’rs 2 And shoots of glory my soul breaks and buds! 3 All the long hours 4 Of night, and rest, 5 Through the still shrouds 6 Of sleep, and clouds, 7 This dew fell on my breast; 8 Oh, how it bloods 9 And spirits all my […]...
14. He is alive, this morning He is alive, this morning He is alive and awake Birds are resuming for Him Blossoms dress for His Sake. Bees to their Loaves of Honey Add an Amber Crumb Him to regale Me Only Motion, and am dumb....
15. Morning-Land Old English songs, you bring to me A simple sweetness somewhat kin To birds that through the mystery Of earliest morn make tuneful din, While hamlet steeples sleepily At cock-crow chime out three and four, Till maids get up betime and go With faces like the red sun low Clattering about the dairy floor....
16. Little Little Man Little little man, little little man, Set free your canary that wants to fly. I am that canary, little little man, Leave me to fly. I was in your cage, little little man, Little little man who gave me my cage. I say “little little” because you don’t understand me Nor will you understand. Nor […]...
17. The Morning after Woe The Morning after Woe ‘Tis frequently the Way Surpasses all that rose before For utter Jubilee As Nature did not care And piled her Blossoms on And further to parade a Joy Her Victim stared upon The Birds declaim their Tunes Pronouncing every word Like Hammers Did they know they fell Like Litanies of Lead […]...
18. 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....
19. 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 […]...
20. At leisure is the Soul At leisure is the Soul That gets a Staggering Blow The Width of Life before it spreads Without a thing to do It begs you give it Work But just the placing Pins Or humblest Patchwork Children do To Help its Vacant Hands...
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. 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...
23. A Night-Rain in Summer Open the window, and let the air Freshly blow upon face and hair, And fill the room, as it fills the night, With the breath of the rain’s sweet might. Hark! the burthen, swift and prone! And how the odorous limes are blown! Stormy Love’s abroad, and keeps Hopeful coil for gentle sleeps. Not a […]...
24. TO PRIMROSES FILLED WITH MORNING DEW Why do ye weep, sweet babes? can tears Speak grief in you, Who were but born Just as the modest morn Teem’d her refreshing dew? Alas, you have not known that shower That mars a flower, Nor felt th’ unkind Breath of a blasting wind, Nor are ye worn with years; Or warp’d as we, […]...
25. Morning News Spring wafts up the smell of bus exhaust, of bread And fried potatoes, tips green on the branches, Repeats old news: arrogance, ignorance, war. A cinder-block wall shared by two houses Is new rubble. On one side was a kitchen Sink and a cupboard, on the other was A bed, a bookshelf, three framed photographs. […]...
26. We Ain't Got No Money, Honey, But We Got Rain call it the greenhouse effect or whatever But it just doesn’t rain like it used to. I particularly remember the rains of the Depression era. There wasn’t any money but there was Plenty of rain. It wouldn’t rain for just a night or A day, It would RAIN for 7 days and 7 Nights And […]...
27. Rain Along Shore Wan white mists upon the sea, East wind harping mournfully All the sunken reefs along, Wail and heart-break in its song, But adown the placid bay Fisher-folk keep holiday. All the deeps beyond the bar Call and murmur from afar, ‘Plaining of a mighty woe Where the great ships come and go, But adown the […]...
28. MATINS, OR MORNING PRAYER When with the virgin morning thou dost rise, Crossing thyself come thus to sacrifice; First wash thy heart in innocence; then bring Pure hands, pure habits, pure, pure every thing. Next to the altar humbly kneel, and thence Give up thy soul in clouds of frankincense. Thy golden censers fill’d with odours sweet Shall make […]...
29. The Olympic Girl The sort of girl I like to see Smiles down from her great height at me. She stands in strong, athletic pose And wrinkles her retroussй nose. Is it distaste that makes her frown, So furious and freckled, down On an unhealthy worm like me? Or am I what she likes to see? I do […]...
30. 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 […]...
31. 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, […]...
32. 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 […]...
33. The Kookaburras In every heart there is a coward and a procrastinator. In every heart there is a god of flowers, just waiting To stride out of a cloud and lift its wings. The kookaburras, pressed against the edge of their cage, Asked me to open the door. Years later I remember how I didn’t do it, […]...
34. Morning (Love Sonnet XXVII) Naked you are simple as one of your hands; Smooth, earthy, small, transparent, round. You’ve moon-lines, apple pathways Naked you are slender as a naked grain of wheat. Naked you are blue as a night in Cuba; You’ve vines and stars in your hair. Naked you are spacious and yellow As summer in a golden […]...
35. 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 […]...
36. 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 […]...
37. A Description of the Morning Now hardly here and there a hackney-coach Appearing, show’d the ruddy morn’s approach. Now Betty from her master’s bed had flown, And softly stole to discompose her own. The slip-shod ‘prentice from his master’s door Had par’d the dirt, and sprinkled round the floor. Now Moll had whirl’d her mop with dext’rous airs, Prepar’d to […]...
38. Venetian Morning Windows pampered like princes always see What on occasion deigns to trouble us: The city that, time and again, where a shimmer Of sky strikes a feeling of floodtide, Takes shape without once choosing to be. Each new morning must first show her the opals She wore yesterday, and pull rows Of reflections out of […]...
39. May Morning I lie stretched out upon the window-seat And doze, and read a page or two, and doze, And feel the air like water on me close, Great waves of sunny air that lip and beat With a small noise, monotonous and sweet, Against the window and the scent of cool, Frail flowers by some brown […]...
40. The House Of Dust: Part 01: 05: The snow floats down upon us, mingled with rain The snow floats down upon us, mingled with rain. . . It eddies around pale lilac lamps, and falls Down golden-windowed walls. We were all born of flesh, in a flare of pain, We do not remember the red roots whence we rose, But we know that we rose and walked, that after a while […]...