The Empty Quatrain

Related poetry:

1. Quatrain on a Jar of Pickles after that fleeting summer In your overjoyed heart, Haunt years to endure A love with all doors shut Forget a hearty dinner Make do instead, with these Fingerlike cucumbers Who taught you to be so eager?...
2. An Empty Crib Beside a crib that holds a baby’s stocking, A tattered picture book, a broken toy, A sleeping mother dreams that she is rocking Her fair-haired cherub boy. Upon the cradle’s side her light touch keeping, She gently rocks it, crooning low a song; And smiles to think her little one is sleeping, So peacefully and […]...
3. A Man Young And Old: V. The Empty Cup A crazy man that found a cup, When all but dead of thirst, Hardly dared to wet his mouth Imagining, moon-accursed, That another mouthful And his beating heart would burst. October last I found it too But found it dry as bone, And for that reason am I crazed And my sleep is gone....
4. Empty my Heart, of Thee Empty my Heart, of Thee Its single Artery Begin, and leave Thee out Simply Extinction’s Date Much Billow hath the Sea One Baltic They Subtract Thyself, in play, And not enough of me Is left to put away “Myself” meanth Thee Erase the Root no Tree Thee then no me The Heavens stripped Eternity’s vast […]...
5. Empty I have let her, the kid unstopper me Thinking she would drink me up and part of her I’d be; I am now an empty bottle all right The rest of me your crippled dog instead...
6. Empty Room The clock disserts on punctuation, syntax. The clock’s voice, thin and dry, asserts, repeats. The clock insists: a lecturer demonstrating, Loudly, with finger raised, when the class has gone. But time flows through the room, light flows through the room Like someone picking flowers, like someone whistling Without a tune, like talk in front of […]...
7. Quite empty, quite at rest Quite empty, quite at rest, The Robin locks her Nest, and tries her Wings. She does not know a Route But puts her Craft about For rumored Springs She does not ask for Noon She does not ask for Boon, Crumbless and homeless, of but one request The Birds she lost...
8. The Empty Boats Why do I see these empty boats, sailing on airy seas? One haunted me the whole night long, swaying with every breeze, Returning always near the eaves, or by the skylight glass: There it will wait me many weeks, and then, at last, will pass. Each soul is haunted by a ship in which that […]...
9. An Empty Threat I stay; But it isn’t as if There wasn’t always Hudson’s Bay And the fur trade, A small skiff And a paddle blade. I can just see my tent pegged, And me on the floor, Cross-legged, And a trapper looking in at the door With furs to sell. His name’s Joe, Alias John, And between […]...
10. If Thou Could'st Empty All Thyself Of Self If thou could’st empty all thyself of self, Like to a shell dishabited, Then might He find thee on the ocean shelf, And say, “This is not dead,” And fill thee with Himself instead. But thou are all replete with very thou And hast such shrewd activity, That when He comes He says, “This is […]...
11. Echoes in an empty room The strident sounds of silence echo In a darkened room, a beggar’s tomb Of emptied space and barrenness, a Shameful waste, a bitter sadness. It violates all sense of being strips aside All causal meaning bound inside the shrinking Wrap that clings to surfaces debased, Insulates the tiny tap of time, a skulking Soulless mirthless […]...
12. Little Joke Stripping an almond tree in flower The wise apothecary’s skill A single drop of lethal power From perfect sweetness can distill From bitterness in efflorescence, With murderous poisons packed therein; The poet draws pellucid essence Pure as a drop of metheglin....
13. Dream Song 56: Hell is empty. O that has come to pass Hell is empty. O that has come to pass Which the cut Alexandrian foresaw, And Hell is empty. Lightning fell silent where the Devil knelt And over the whole grave space hath settled awe In a full death of guilt. The tinchel closes. Terror, & plunging, swipes. I lay my ears back. I am about […]...
14. One Perfect Rose A single flow’r he sent me, since we met. All tenderly his messenger he chose; Deep-hearted, pure, with scented dew still wet – One perfect rose. I knew the language of the floweret; ‘My fragile leaves,’ it said, ‘his heart enclose.’ Love long has taken for his amulet One perfect rose. Why is it no […]...
15. A Satisfactory Reform A merry burgomaster In a burgh upon the Rhine Said, “Our burghers all are Far too fond of drinking wine.” So the merry burgomaster, When the burgomasters met, Bade them look into the matter Ere the thing went farther yet. And the merry burgomasters Did decide the only way To alleviate the evil Without worry […]...
16. Sonnets 08: And You As Well Must Die, Beloved Du And you as well must die, beloved dust, And all your beauty stand you in no stead; This flawless, vital hand, this perfect head, This body of flame and steel, before the gust Of Death, or under his autumnal frost, Shall be as any leaf, be no less dead Than the first leaf that fell, […]...
17. The Ballade Of The Automobile When our yacht sails seaward on steady keel And the wind is moist with breath of brine And our laughter tells of our perfect weal, We may carol the praises of ruby wine; But if, automobiling, my woes combine And fuel gives out in my road-machine And it’s sixteen miles to that home of mine […]...
18. The Owl When cats run home and light is come, And dew is cold upon the ground, And the far-off stream is dumb, And the whirring sail goes round, And the whirring sail goes round; Alone and warming his five wits, The white owl in the belfry sits. When merry milkmaids click the latch, And rarely smells […]...
19. Grace My stock lies dead and no increase Doth my dull husbandry improve: O let thy graces without cease Drop from above! If still the sun should hide his face, Thy house would but a dungeon prove, Thy works, night’s captives: O let grace Drop from above! The dew doth ev’ry morning fall; And shall the […]...
20. Modern Love XXXII: Full Faith I Have Full faith I have she holds that rarest gift To beauty, Common Sense. To see her lie With her fair visage an inverted sky Bloom-covered, while the underlids uplift, Would almost wreck the faith; but when her mouth (Can it kiss sweetly? sweetly!) would address The inner me that thirsts for her no less, And […]...
21. The light was always you In the beginning there was light, Abundant light that truly lit the way, Time was never lost in dodging flights Of feckless shadows and darkness seldom Ever blight the brightness of our days. And when the shadows came at night And stretched into the weary dawn, tangled In the sleepers’ eyes and yawning in their […]...
22. Long Distance II Though my mother was already two years dead Dad kept her slippers warming by the gas, Put hot water bottles her side of the bed And still went to renew her transport pass. You couldn’t just drop in. You had to phone. He’d put you off an hour to give him time To clear away […]...
23. The Superseded I As newer comers crowd the fore, We drop behind. – We who have laboured long and sore Times out of mind, And keen are yet, must not regret To drop behind. II Yet there are of us some who grieve To go behind; Staunch, strenuous souls who scarce believe Their fires declined, And know […]...
24. Legend As silent as a mirror is believed Realities plunge in silence by. . . I am not ready for repentance; Nor to match regrets. For the moth Bends no more than the still Imploring flame. And tremorous In the white falling flakes Kisses are, The only worth all granting. It is to be learned This […]...
25. 16-bit Intel 8088 chip with an Apple Macintosh You can’t run Radio Shack programs In its disc drive. Nor can a Commodore 64 Drive read a file You have created on an IBM Personal Computer. Both Kaypro and Osborne computers use The CP/M operating system But can’t read each other’s Handwriting For they format (write On) discs in different […]...
26. 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 […]...
27. Winter Promises Tomatoes rosy as perfect baby’s buttocks, Eggplants glossy as waxed fenders, Purple neon flawless glistening Peppers, pole beans fecund and fast Growing as Jack’s Viagra-sped stalk, Big as truck tire zinnias that mildew Will never wilt, roses weighing down A bush never touched by black spot, Brave little fruit trees shouldering up Their spotless ornaments […]...
28. In the footsteps of the walking air In the footsteps of the walking air Sky’s prophetic chickens weave their cloth of awe And hillsides lift green wings in somber journeying. Night in his soft haste bumps on the shoulders of the abyss And a single drop of dark blood covers the earth. Now is the China of the spirit at walking In […]...
29. Autumn Love Search. Search. Seek. Seek. Cold. Cold. Clear. Clear. Sorrow. Sorrow. Pain. Pain. Hot flashes. Sudden chills. Stabbing pains. Slow agonies. I can find no peace. I drink two cups, then three bowls, Of clear wine until I can’t Stand up against a gust of wind. Wild geese fly over head. They wrench my heart. They […]...
30. Ode To Wine Day-colored wine, Night-colored wine, Wine with purple feet Or wine with topaz blood, Wine, Starry child Of earth, Wine, smooth As a golden sword, Soft As lascivious velvet, Wine, spiral-seashelled And full of wonder, Amorous, Marine; Never has one goblet contained you, One song, one man, You are choral, gregarious, At the least, you must […]...
31. 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...
32. Who never wanted maddest Joy Who never wanted maddest Joy Remains to him unknown The Banquet of Abstemiousness Defaces that of Wine Within its reach, though yet ungrasped Desire’s perfect Goal No nearer lest the Actual Should disentrall thy soul...
33. From Citron-Bower From citron-bower be her bed, Cut from branch of tree a-flower, Fashioned for her maidenhead. From Lydian apples, sweet of hue, Cut the width of board and lathe, Carve the feet from myrtle-wood. Let the palings of her bed Be quince and box-wood overlaid With the scented bark of yew. That all the wood in […]...
34. A Vindication If heaven loved not the wine, A Wine Star would not be in heaven; If earth loved not the wine, The Wine Spring would not be on the earth. Since heaven and earth love the wine, Need a tippling mortal be ashamed? The transparent wine, I hear, Has the soothing virtue of a sage, While […]...
35. After the rain Resurgent greens and stronger hues Combined within the colours in-between Will spring again, the reddish brown Has nearly gone and all the silver Greys erased in darker shades That shine with slickly natured stains After the gentle, gentle rain. Clouded skies unite and demonize The dry and dusty plight of days of brutal Beating sun […]...
36. 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...
37. A Pit but Heaven over it A Pit but Heaven over it And Heaven beside, and Heaven abroad, And yet a Pit With Heaven over it. To stir would be to slip To look would be to drop To dream to sap the Prop That holds my chances up. Ah! Pit! With Heaven over it! The depth is all my thought […]...
38. Aloof THE irresponsive silence of the land, The irresponsive sounding of the sea, Speak both one message of one sense to me: Aloof, aloof, we stand aloof, so stand Thou too aloof, bound with the flawless band Of inner solitude; we bind not thee; But who from thy self-chain shall set thee free? What heart shall […]...
39. The Judges Of The Little Box to Karl Max Ostojic Why do you stare at the little box That in her emptiness Holds the whole world If the little box holds The world in her emptiness Then the antiworld Holds the little box in its antihand Who’ll bite off the antiworld’s antihand And on that hand Five hundred antifingers Do you […]...
40. The Burned Child Love has had his way with me. This my heart is torn and maimed Since he took his play with me. Cruel well the bow-boy aimed, Shot, and saw the feathered shaft Dripping bright and bitter red. He that shrugged his wings and laughed- Better had he left me dead. Sweet, why do you plead […]...