The Truth About hHorace

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1. Horace and Lydia Reconciled HORACE When you were mine in auld lang syne, And when none else your charms might ogle, I’ll not deny, Fair nymph, that I Was happier than a Persian mogul. LYDIA Before she came that rival flame! (Was ever female creature sillier?) In those good times, Bepraised in rhymes, I was more famed than Mother […]...
2. The IX Ode to Horace HORACE. While I was pleasing to your arms, Nor any youth, of happier charms, Thy snowy bosom blissful prest, Not Portia’s like me was blest. LYDIA. While for no other fair you burn’d, Nor Lydia was for Chloe scorn’d What maid was then so blest as thine? Not [xx’s] flame could equal mine. HORACE. Me […]...
3. Sonnet I: Loving In Truth Loving in truth, and fain in verse my love to show, That she (dear She) might take some pleasure of my pain: Pleasure might cause her read, reading might make her know, Knowledge might pity win, and pity grace obtain; I sought fit words to paint the blackest face of woe, Studying inventions fine, her […]...
4. Loving In Truth, And Fain In Verse My Love To Show Loving in truth, and fain in verse my love to show, That She, dear She, might take some pleasure of my pain, -Pleasure might cause her read, reading might make her know, Knowledge might pity win, and pity grace obtain – I sought fit words to paint the blackest face of woe, Studying inventions fine, […]...
5. Granny Granny’s come to our house, And ho! my lawzy-daisy! All the childern round the place Is ist a-runnin’ crazy! Fetched a cake fer little Jake, And fetched a pie fer Nanny, And fetched a pear fer all the pack That runs to kiss their Granny! Lucy Ellen’s in her lap, And Wade and Silas Walker […]...
6. Mr. Philosopher Old Mr. Philosopher Comes for Ben and Claire, An ugly man, a tall man, With bright-red hair. The books that he’s written No one can read. “In fifty years they’ll understand: Now there’s no need. “All that matters now Is getting the fun. Come along, Ben and Claire; Plenty to be done.” Then old Philosopher, […]...
7. Baccalaureate A year or two, and grey Euripides, And Horace and a Lydia or so, And Euclid and the brush of Angelo, Darwin on man, Vergilius on bees, The nose and Dialogues of Socrates, Don Quixote, Hudibras and Trinculo, How worlds are spawned and where the dead gods go, All shall be shard of broken memories. […]...
8. Introduction To Poetry I ask them to take a poem And hold it up to the light Like a color slide Or press an ear against its hive. I say drop a mouse into a poem And watch him probe his way out, Or walk inside the poem’s room And feel the walls for a light switch. I […]...
9. 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 […]...
10. Sea Sorcery Oh how I love the laughing sea, Sun lances splintering; Or with a virile harmony In salty caves to sing; Or mumbling pebbles on the shore, Or roused to monster might: By day I love the sea, but more I love it in the night. High over ocean hangs my home And when the moon […]...
11. Poem This poem is not addressed to you. You may come into it briefly, But no one will find you here, no one. You will have changed before the poem will. Even while you sit there, unmovable, You have begun to vanish. And it does no matter. The poem will go on without you. It has […]...
12. In a Disused Graveyard The living come with grassy tread To read the gravestones on the hill; The graveyard draws the living still, But never anymore the dead. The verses in it say and say: “The ones who living come today To read the stones and go away Tomorrow dead will come to stay.” So sure of death the […]...
13. I Don't Know If You're Alive Or Dead I don’t know if you’re alive or dead. Can you on earth be sought, Or only when the sunsets fade Be mourned serenely in my thought? All is for you: the daily prayer, The sleepless heat at night, And of my verses, the white Flock, and of my eyes, the blue fire. No-one was more […]...
14. TRUTH? There are 16 million shades of grey There is no black There is no white You have to draw your own line It may or may not be straight There are always mitigating circumstances Judgement can only be based On passed-down wisdom and self-experience Stopping to take stock Is not an option You can never […]...
15. Truth THE HERO first thought it To him ’twas a deed: To those who retaught it, A chain on their speed. The fire that we kindled, A beacon by night, When darkness has dwindled Grows pale in the light. For life has no glory Stays long in one dwelling, And time has no story That’s true […]...
16. All is Truth O ME, man of slack faith so long! Standing aloof-denying portions so long; Only aware to-day of compact, all-diffused truth; Discovering to-day there is no lie, or form of lie, and can be none, but grows as inevitably upon itself as the truth does upon itself, Or as any law of the earth, or any […]...
17. 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....
18. The Nakedness of Truth (I know it well) Despair has no wings, Nor has love, No countenance: They do not speak. I do not stir, I do not behold them, I do not speak to them, But I am as real as my love and my despair....
19. The Thread of Truth Truth is a golden thread, seen here and there In small bright specks upon the visible side Of our strange being’s parti-coloured web. How rich the universe! ‘Tis a vein of ore Emerging now and then on Earth’s rude breast, But flowing full below. Like islands set At distant intervals on Ocean’s face, We see […]...
20. Alive Together Speaking of marvels, I am alive Together with you, when I might have been Alive with anyone under the sun, When I might have been Abelard’s woman Or the whore of a Renaissance pop Or a peasant wife with not enough food And not enough love, with my children Dead of the plague. I might […]...
21. The Truth of Woman Woman’s faith, and woman’s trust – Write the characters in the dust; Stamp them on the running stream, Print them on the moon’s pale beam, And each evanescent letter Shall be clearer, firmer, better, And more permanent, I ween, Than the thing those letters mean. I have strain’d the spider’s thread ‘Gainst the promise of […]...
22. Glass Words of a poem should be glass But glass so simple-subtle its shape Is nothing but the shape of what it holds. A glass spun for itself is empty, Brittle, at best Venetian trinket. Embossed glass hides the poem of its absence. Words should be looked through, should be windows. The best word were invisible. […]...
23. Truth in advertising morning epiphany Applicable to love and life In haiku-like purity: Only freshly squeezed Separation is natural Shake well to enjoy! In fructose veritas....
24. This Side Of The Truth (for Llewelyn) This side of the truth, You may not see, my son, King of your blue eyes In the blinding country of youth, That all is undone, Under the unminding skies, Of innocence and guilt Before you move to make One gesture of the heart or head, Is gathered and spilt Into the winding […]...
25. The Simple Truth I bought a dollar and a half’s worth of small red potatoes, Took them home, boiled them in their jackets And ate them for dinner with a little butter and salt. Then I walked through the dried fields On the edge of town. In middle June the light Hung on in the dark furrows at […]...
26. Ars Poetica A poem should be palpable and mute As a globed fruit, Dumb As old medallions to the thumb, Silent as the sleeve-worn stone Of casement ledges where the moss has grown A poem should be wordless As the flight of birds. * A poem should be motionless in time As the moon climbs, Leaving, as […]...
27. The Truth is stirless The Truth is stirless Other force may be presumed to move This then is best for confidence When oldest Cedars swerve And Oaks untwist their fists And Mountains feeble lean How excellent a Body, that Stands without a Bone How vigorous a Force That holds without a Prop Truth stays Herself and every man That […]...
28. Search for Truth Search for nothing any more, nothing Except truth. Be very still, and try and get at the truth. And the first question to ask yourself is: How great a liar am I?...
29. The Truth the Dead Know For my Mother, born March 1902, died March 1959 And my Father, born February 1900, died June 1959 Gone, I say and walk from church, Refusing the stiff procession to the grave, Letting the dead ride alone in the hearse. It is June. I am tired of being brave. We drive to the Cape. I […]...
30. Dark Truth Birds have no consciousness of doom: Yon thrush that serenades me daily From scented snow of hawthorn bloom Would not trill out his glee so gaily, Could he foretell his songful breath Would sadly soon be stilled in death. Yon lambs that frolic on the lea And incarnate the joy of life, Would scarce disport […]...
31. Tell all the Truth but tell it slant Tell all the Truth but tell it slant Success in Circuit lies Too bright for our infirm Delight The Truth’s superb surprise As Lightning to the Children eased With explanation kind The Truth must dazzle gradually Or every man be blind...
32. If Truth in Hearts That Perish If truth in hearts that perish Could move the powers on high, I think the love I bear you Should make you not to die. Sure, sure, if stedfast meaning, If single thought could save, The world might end to-morrow, You should not see the grave. This long and sure-set liking, This boundless will to […]...
33. Natural therapy the great thing about the tall white daisy Is that it knows how to laugh at itself Some flowers for all their rich displays Won’t preen themselves without a primness In their sap – nor let their stalks abide Bending this way that way in the thick wind The large daisy is happy to be […]...
34. The New Omar A Book of verses underneath the bough, Provided that the verses do not scan, A loaf of bread, a jug of wine and Thou, Short-haired, all angles, looking like a man. But let the wine be unfermented, Pale, Of chemicals compounded, God knows how This were indeed the Prophet’s Paradise, O Paradise were Wilderness enow....
35. 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 […]...
36. Sonnet XI: In Truth, Oh Love In truth, oh Love, with what a boyish kind Thou doest proceed in thy most serious ways: That when the heav’n to thee his best displays, Yet of that best thou leav’st the best behind. For like a child that some fair book doth find, With gilded leaves or colored vellum plays, Or at the […]...
37. Sonnet 138: When my love swears that she is made of truth When my love swears that she is made of truth I do believe her, though I know she lies, That she might think me some untutored youth, Unlearnèd in the world’s false subtleties. Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young, Although she knows my days are past the best, Simply I credit her false-speaking […]...
38. A Better Answer Dear Chloe, how blubbered is that pretty face; Thy cheek all on fire, and thy hair all uncurled! Prithee quit this caprice, and (as old Falstaff says) Let us e’en talk a little like folks of this world. How canst thou presume thou hast leave to destroy The beauties which Venus but lent to thy […]...
39. Frenzy I am not lazy. I am on the amphetamine of the soul. I am, each day, Typing out the God My typewriter believes in. Very quick. Very intense, Like a wolf at a live heart. Not lazy. When a lazy man, they say, Looks toward heaven, The angels close the windows. Oh angels, Keep the […]...
40. Notice What This Poem Is Not Doing The light along the hills in the morning Comes down slowly, naming the trees White, then coasting the ground for stones to nominate. Notice what this poem is not doing. A house, a house, a barn, the old Quarry, where the river shrugs How much of this place is yours? Notice what this poem is […]...