That sacred Closet when you sweep

Related poetry:

1. The Reason Why The Closet-Man Is Never Sad This is the house of the closet-man. There are no rooms, Just hallways and closets. Things happen in rooms. He does not like things to Happen. . . Closets, you take things out of closets, You put things into closets, and nothing happens. . . Why do you have such a strange house? I am […]...
2. That Half-Crown Sweep The run of Billabong-go-dry Is just beyond Lime Burner’s Gap; Its waterhole and tank supply Is excellent upon the map. But lacking nature’s liquid drench, The station staff are wont to try With “Bob-in Sweeps” their thirst to quench, Or nearly quench, at Bong-go-dry. The parson made five-yearly rounds That soil of arid souls to […]...
3. A Poem Sacred to the Memory of Sir Isaac Newton Shall the great soul of Newton quit this earth, To mingle with his stars; and every muse, Astonish’d into silence, shun the weight Of honours due to his illustrious name? But what can man? Even now the sons of light, In strains high-warbled to seraphic lyre, Hail his arrival on the coast of bliss. Yet […]...
4. The Closet Here I am with my mother, hanging under the molt Of years, in a garden of umbrellas and rubber boots, Together always in the vague perfume of her coat. See how the fedoras along the shelf are the several Skulls of my father, in this catacomb of my family....
5. Hamlet Off-Stage: The Magnolia Closet “Let the words of my mouth and the meditations Of my heart be acceptable in Thy sight.” Whoever “Thy” is, that’s the prayer to breathe, Words that chimed in my head while I stood under The first magnolia blossom of the year, Gift of God? Elvis? Allah? or Liberace? Who provides the rococo razzledazzle? What’s […]...
6. 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, […]...
7. On Mr. G. Herbert's Book, Entitled the Temple of Sacred Poe Know you fair, on what you look; Divinest love lies in this book, Expecting fire from your eyes, To kindle this his sacrifice. When your hands untie these strings, Think you’have an angel by th’ wings. One that gladly will be nigh, To wait upon each morning sigh. To flutter in the balmy air Of […]...
8. 247. Ode, Sacred to the Memory of Mrs. Oswald of Auchencruive DWELLER in yon dungeon dark, Hangman of creation! mark, Who in widow-weeds appears, Laden with unhonour’d years, Noosing with care a bursting purse, Baited with many a deadly curse? STROPHE View the wither’d Beldam’s face; Can thy keen inspection trace Aught of Humanity’s sweet, melting grace? Note that eye, ’tis rheum o’erflows; Pity’s flood there […]...
9. Did Our Best Moment last Did Our Best Moment last ‘Twould supersede the Heaven A few and they by Risk procure So this Sort are not given Except as stimulants in Cases of Despair Or Stupor The Reserve These Heavenly Moments are A Grant of the Divine That Certain as it Comes Withdraws and leaves the dazzled Soul In her […]...
10. Praise it 'tis dead Praise it ’tis dead It cannot glow Warm this inclement Ear With the encomium it earned Since it was gathered here Invest this alabaster Zest In the Delights of Dust Remitted since it flitted it In recusance august....
11. The Vesture of the Soul I PITIED one whose tattered dress Was patched, and stained with dust and rain; He smiled on me; I could not guess The viewless spirit’s wide domain. He said, “The royal robe I wear Trails all along the fields of light: Its silent blue and silver bear For gems the starry dust of night. “The […]...
12. Carbonara eyes Nicky said I couldn’t write, she’s got a charming Sense of social etiquette – given she’s a bitch (the canine sort, can’t spell for shit or even write A word) but then she has the most expressive eyes. So what she said was no surprise, she’d heard My lamentations, licked my hands, rested forepaws On […]...
13. If I should cease to bring a Rose If I should cease to bring a Rose Upon a festal day, ‘Twill be because beyond the Rose I have been called away If I should cease to take the names My buds commemorate ‘Twill be because Death’s finger Claps my murmuring lip!...
14. Death sets a Thing significant Death sets a Thing significant The Eye had hurried by Except a perished Creature Entreat us tenderly To ponder little Workmanships In Crayon, or in Wool, With “This was last Her fingers did” Industrious until The Thimble weighed too heavy The stitches stopped by themselves And then ’twas put among the Dust Upon the Closet […]...
15. I tie my Hat I crease my Shawl I tie my Hat I crease my Shawl Life’s little duties do precisely As the very least Were infinite to me I put new Blossoms in the Glass And throw the old away I push a petal from my gown That anchored there I weigh The time ’twill be till six o’clock I have so […]...
16. Talisman it is written The act of writing is Holy words are Sacred and your breath Brings out the God in them I write these words Quickly repeat them Softly to myself This talisman for you Fold this prayer Around your neck fortify Your back with these Whispers May you walk ever Loved and in love […]...
17. MY PERFECT ROSE At ten she came to me, three years ago, There was ‘something between us’ even then; Watching her write like Eliot every day, Turn prose into haiku in ten minutes flat, Write a poem in Greek three weeks from learning the alphabet; Then translate it as ‘Sun on a tomb, gold place, small sacred horse’. […]...
18. Ode To Pornography If you could write down the words Moving through a man’s mind as He masturbates you’d have a quick Bonus bonk read, I used to think. But words were never adequate Or the point in the bar where the girl Is a boy the boy is a girl the two girls Exchange underpants the one […]...
19. Many Are Called The Lord Apollo, who has never died, Still holds alone his immemorial reign, Supreme in an impregnable domain That with his magic he has fortified; And though melodious multitudes have tried In ecstasy, in anguish, and in vain, With invocation sacred and profane To lure him, even the loudest are outside. Only at unconjectured intervals, […]...
20. Truth is as old as God Truth is as old as God His Twin identity And will endure as long as He A Co-Eternity And perish on the Day Himself is borne away From Mansion of the Universe A lifeless Deity....
21. How firm Eternity must look How firm Eternity must look To crumbling men like me The only Adamant Estate In all Identity How mighty to the insecure Thy Physiognomy To whom not any Face cohere Unless concealed in thee...
22. No Crowd that has occurred No Crowd that has occurred Exhibit I suppose That General Attendance That Resurrection does Circumference be full The long restricted Grave Assert her Vital Privilege The Dust connect and live On Atoms features place All Multitudes that were Efface in the Comparison As Suns dissolve a star Solemnity prevail Its Individual Doom Possess each separate […]...
23. Unlyric Love Song It is time to give that-of-myself which I could not at first: To offer you now at last my least and my worst: Minor, absurd preserves, The shell’s end-curves, A document kept at the back of a drawer, A tin hidden under the floor, Recalcitrant prides and hesitations: To pile them carefully in a desparate […]...
24. On An Eclipse Of The Moon Struggling, and faint, and fainter didst thou wane, O Moon! and round thee all thy starry train Came forth to help thee, with half-open eyes, And trembled every one with still surprise, That the black Spectre should have dared assail Their beauteous queen and seize her sacred veil...
25. Nature and God I neither knew Nature and God I neither knew Yet Both so well knew me They startled, like Executors Of My identity. Yet Neither told that I could learn My Secret as secure As Herschel’s private interest Or Mercury’s affair...
26. They shut me up in Prose They shut me up in Prose As when a little Girl They put me in the Closet Because they liked me “still” Still! Could themself have peeped And seen my Brain go round They might as wise have lodged a Bird For Treason in the Pound Himself has but to will And easy as a […]...
27. In The Garden One moment alone in the garden, Under the August skies; The moon had gone but the stars shone on, – Shone like your beautiful eyes. Away from the glitter and gaslight, Alone in the garden there, While the mirth of the throng, in laugh and song, Floated out on the air. You looked down through […]...
28. Exhilaration is within Exhilaration is within There can no Outer Wine So royally intoxicate As that diviner Brand The Soul achieves Herself To drink or set away For Visitor Or Sacrament ‘Tis not of Holiday To stimulate a Man Who hath the Ample Rhine Within his Closet Best you can Exhale in offering....
29. As One does Sickness over As One does Sickness over In convalescent Mind, His scrutiny of Chances By blessed Health obscured As One rewalks a Precipice And whittles at the Twig That held Him from Perdition Sown sidewise in the Crag A Custom of the Soul Far after suffering Identity to question For evidence’t has been...
30. This Consciousness that is aware This Consciousness that is aware Of Neighbors and the Sun Will be the one aware of Death And that itself alone Is traversing the interval Experience between And most profound experiment Appointed unto Men How adequate unto itself Its properties shall be Itself unto itself and none Shall make discovery. Adventure most unto itself The […]...
31. Dandelions ‘and we should die of that roar which lies on the other side of silence’ George Eliot, Middlemarch Dead dandelions, bald as drumsticks, Swaying by the roadside Like Hare Krishna pilgrims Bowing to the Juggernaut. They have given up everything. Gold gone and their silver gone, Humbled with dust, hollow, Their milky bodies tan To […]...
32. Passport They did not recognize me in the shadows That suck away my color in this Passport And to them my wound was an exhibit For a tourist Who loves to collect photographs They did not recognize me, Ah. . . Don’t leave The palm of my hand without the sun Because the trees recognize me […]...
33. The Defeated Think not because you raise A gleaming sword, That you will win to praise Before the Lord. And though men hail you great Unto the skies, Deem not ’twill ope’ the gate Of Paradise. Though you have gold and gear And fame and power, What odds when you draw near The Judgement Hour? But if […]...
34. A Coffin is a small Domain A Coffin is a small Domain, Yet able to contain A Citizen of Paradise In it diminished Plane. A Grave is a restricted Breadth Yet ampler than the Sun And all the Seas He populates And Lands He looks upon To Him who on its small Repose Bestows a single Friend Circumference without Relief Or […]...
35. Clouds Above The Sea My father and mother, two tiny figures, Side by side, facing the clouds that move In from the Atlantic. August, ’33. The whole weight of the rain to come, the weight Of all that has fallen on their houses Gathers for a last onslaught, and yet they Hold, side by side, in the eye of […]...
36. The look of thee, what is it like The look of thee, what is it like Hast thou a hand or Foot Or Mansion of Identity And what is thy Pursuit? Thy fellows are they realms or Themes Hast thou Delight or Fear Or Longing and is that for us Or values more severe? Let change transfuse all other Traits Enact all other […]...
37. Here Is A Wound That Never Will Heal, I Know Here is a wound that never will heal, I know, Being wrought not of a dearness and a death, But of a love turned ashes and the breath Gone out of beauty; never again will grow The grass on that scarred acre, though I sow Young seed there yearly and the sky bequeath Its friendly […]...
38. 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; […]...
39. The Apartment House Severe against the pleasant arc of sky The great stone box is cruelly displayed. The street becomes more dreary from its shade, And vagrant breezes touch its walls and die. Here sullen convicts in their chains might lie, Or slaves toil dumbly at some dreary trade. How worse than folly is their labor made Who […]...
40. I fit for them I fit for them I seek the Dark Till I am thorough fit. The labor is a sober one With this sufficient sweet That abstinence of mine produce A purer food for them, if I succeed, If not I had The transport of the Aim...