Lion & Honeycomb

Related poetry:

1. Sekhmet, the Lion-headed Goddess of War He was the sort of man Who wouldn’t hurt a fly. Many flies are now alive While he is not. He was not my patron. He preferred full granaries, I battle. My roar meant slaughter. Yet here we are together In the same museum. That’s not what I see, though, the fitful Crowds of staring […]...
2. A Child's Nightmare Through long nursery nights he stood By my bed unwearying, Loomed gigantic, formless, queer, Purring in my haunted ear That same hideous nightmare thing, Talking, as he lapped my blood, In a voice cruel and flat, Saying for ever, “Cat! … Cat! … Cat!…” That one word was all he said, That one word through […]...
3. The Lion The Lion, the Lion, he dwells in the Waste, He has a big head and a very small waist; But his shoulders are stark, and his jaws they are grim, And a good little child will not play with him....
4. LION AND LIONESS ONE night we were together, you and I, And had unsown Assyria for a lair, Before the walls of Babylon rose in air. How languid hills were heaped along the sky, And white bones marked the wells of alkali, When suddenly down the lion-path a sound. . . The wild man-odor. . . then a […]...
5. Albert and the Lion There’s a famous seaside place called Blackpool, That’s noted for fresh air and fun, And Mr and Mrs Ramsbottom Went there with young Albert, their son. A grand little lad was young Albert, All dressed in his best; quite a swell With a stick with an ‘orse’s ‘ead ‘andle, The finest that Woolworth’s could sell. […]...
6. The Lion and the Lamb I saw a Tiger’s golden flank, I saw what food he ate, By a desert spring he drank; The Tiger’s name was Hate. Then I saw a placid Lamb Lying fast asleep; Like a river from its dam Flashed the Tiger’s leap. I saw a lion tawny-red, Terrible and brave; The Tiger’s leap overhead Broke […]...
7. The Lion The Lion is a kingly beast. He likes a Hindu for a feast. And if no Hindu he can get, The lion-family is upset. He cuffs his wife and bites her ears Till she is nearly moved to tears. Then some explorer finds the den And all is family peace again....
8. The Lion For Real “Soyez muette pour moi, Idole contemplative…” I came home and found a lion in my living room Rushed out on the fire escape screaming Lion! Lion! Two stenographers pulled their brunnette hair and banged the window shut I hurried home to Patterson and stayed two days Called up old Reichian analyst Who’d kicked me out […]...
9. They Feed They Lion Out of burlap sacks, out of bearing butter, Out of black bean and wet slate bread, Out of the acids of rage, the candor of tar, Out of creosote, gasoline, drive shafts, wooden dollies, They Lion grow. Out of the gray hills Of industrial barns, out of rain, out of bus ride, West Virginia to […]...
10. The Lion If you’re attacked by a Lion Find fresh underpants to try on Lay on the ground quite still Pretend you are very ill Keep like that day after day Perhaps the lion will go away...
11. Lion In An Iron Cage Look at the lion in the iron cage, Look deep into his eyes: like two naked steel daggers they sparkle with anger. But he never loses his dignity although his anger comes and goes goes and comes. You couldn’t find a place for a collar Round his thick, furry mane. Although the scars of a […]...
12. Richard Coeur de Lion Richard the First, Coeur-de-Lion, Is a name that we speak of with pride, Though he only lived six months in England From his birth to the day that he died. He spent all his time fighting battles, Dressed up in most rigid attire, For he had his suits made by the Blacksmith, And his underwear […]...
13. Making The Lion For All It's Got A Ballad I came home and found a lion in my room… [First draft of “The Lion for Real” CP 174-175] A lion met America In the road They stared at each other Two figures on the crossroads in the desert. America screamed The lion roared They leaped at each other America desperate to win Fighting with […]...
14. Learning by Doing They’re taking down a tree at the front door, The power saw is snarling at some nerves, Whining at others. Now and then it grunts, And sawdust falls like snow or a drift of seeds. Rotten, they tell us, at the fork, and one Big wind would bring it down. So what they do They […]...
15. At Feet Of Dogs At my feet the lapdogs of desire, I wont greet their fawning, least not yet, Their foul breath would shrink a haemorroid, Perhaps I’ll feed them oats with garlic Instead. I fed their need for family, I recognised each one and said I loved them. Unconditionally. Was I wrong? I cannot say they loved me […]...
16. Sonnet 19: Devouring Time blunt thou the lion's paws Devouring Time blunt thou the lion’s paws, And make the earth devour her own sweet brood, Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger’s jaws, And burn the long-lived phoenix, in her blood, Make glad and sorry seasons as thou fleet’st, And do whate’er thou wilt swift-footed Time To the wide world and all her […]...
17. Sonnet XIX: Devouring Time, Blunt Thou the Lion's Paws Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion’s paws, And make the earth devour her own sweet brood; Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger’s jaws, And burn the long-liv’d Phoenix in her blood; Make glad and sorry seasons as thou fleets, And do whate’er thou wilt, swift-footed Time, To the wide world and all her […]...
18. On The Breakwater On the breakwater in the summer dark, a man and a girl are sitting, She across his knee and they are looking face into face Talking to each other without words, singing rythms in silence to each other. A funnel of white ranges the blue dusk from an out- going boat, Playing its searchlight, puzzled, […]...
19. In The Secular Night In the secular night you wander around Alone in your house. It’s two-thirty. Everyone has deserted you, Or this is your story; You remember it from being sixteen, When the others were out somewhere, having a good time, Or so you suspected, And you had to baby-sit. You took a large scoop of vanilla ice-cream […]...
20. Talking XX And then a scholar said, “Speak of Talking.” And he answered, saying: You talk when you cease to be at peace with your thoughts; And when you can no longer dwell in the solitude of your heart you live in your lips, and sound is a diversion and a pastime. And in much of your […]...
21. The Great Black Heron Since I stroll in the woods more often Than on this frequented path, it’s usually Trees I observe; but among fellow humans What I like best is to see an old woman Fishing alone at the end of a jetty, Hours on end, plainly content. The Russians mushroom-hunting after a rain Trail after themselves a […]...
22. The Voice Safe in the magic of my woods I lay, and watched the dying light. Faint in the pale high solitudes, And washed with rain and veiled by night, Silver and blue and green were showing. And the dark woods grew darker still; And birds were hushed; and peace was growing; And quietness crept up the […]...
23. Out in the Garden Out in the garden, Out in the windy, swinging dark, Under the trees and over the flower-beds, Over the grass and under the hedge border, Someone is sweeping, sweeping, Some old gardener. Out in the windy, swinging dark, Someone is secretly putting in order, Someone is creeping, creeping....
24. Face To Face Day after day, O lord of my life, Shall I stand before thee face to face. With folded hands, O lord of all worlds, Shall I stand before thee face to face. Under thy great sky in solitude and silence, With humble heart shall I stand before thee face to face. In this laborious world […]...
25. Gustav Richter After a long day of work in my hot-houses Sleep was sweet, but if you sleep on your left side Your dreams may be abruptly ended. I was among my flowers where some one Seemed to be raising them on trial, As if after-while to be transplanted To a larger garden of freer air. And […]...
26. Nest Eggs Birds all the summer day Flutter and quarrel Here in the arbour-like Tent of the laurel. Here in the fork The brown nest is seated; For little blue eggs The mother keeps heated. While we stand watching her Staring like gabies, Safe in each egg are the Bird’s little babies. Soon the frail eggs they […]...
27. What Semiramis Said THE moon’s a steaming chalice, Of honey and venom-wine. A little of it sipped by night Makes the long hours divine. But oh, my reckless lovers, They drain the cup and wail, Die at my feet with shaking limbs And tender lips all pale. Above them in the sky it bends Empty and gray and […]...
28. What the Miner in the Desert Said The moon’s a brass-hooped water-keg, A wondrous water-feast. If I could climb the ridge and drink And give drink to my beast; If I could drain that keg, the flies Would not be biting so, My burning feet be spry again, My mule no longer slow. And I could rise and dig for ore, And […]...
29. Mrs. Kessler Mr Kessler, you know, was in the army, And he drew six dollars a month as a pension, And stood on the corner talking politics, Or sat at home reading Grant’s Memoirs; And I supported the family by washing, Learning the secrets of all the people From their curtains, counterpanes, shirts and skirts. For things […]...
30. Snow Late December: my father and I Are going to New York, to the circus. He holds me On his shoulders in the bitter wind: Scraps of white paper Blow over the railroad ties. My father liked To stand like this, to hold me So he couldn’t see me. I remember Staring straight ahead Into the […]...
31. THE BEAUTEOUS FLOWER SONG OF THE IMPRISONED COUNT. COUNT. I KNOW a flower of beauty rare, Ah, how I hold it dear! To seek it I would fain repair, Were I not prison’d here. My sorrow sore oppresses me, For when I was at liberty, I had it close beside me. Though from this castle’s walls so steep […]...
32. Trouvйe Oh, why should a hen Have been run over On West 4th Street In the middle of summer? She was a white hen red-and-white now, of course. How did she get there? Where was she going? Her wing feathers spread Flat, flat in the tar, All dirtied, and thin As tissue paper. A pigeon, yes, […]...
33. 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 […]...
34. Portrait Number Five: Against A New York Summer I’d walk her home after work Buying roses and talking of Bechsteins. She was full of soul. Her small room was gorged with heat And there were no windows. She’d take off everything But her pants And take the pins from her hair Throwing them on the floor With a great noise. Like Crete. We […]...
35. Their Height in Heaven comforts not Their Height in Heaven comforts not Their Glory nought to me ‘Twas best imperfect as it was I’m finite I can’t see The House of Supposition The Glimmering Frontier that Skirts the Acres of Perhaps To Me shows insecure The Wealth I had contented me If ’twas a meaner size Then I had counted it […]...
36. Flat Lands FLAT lands on the end of town where real estate men are crying new subdivisions, The sunsets pour blood and fire over you hundreds and hundreds of nights, flat lands-blood and fire of sunsets thousands of years have been pouring over you. And the stars follow the sunsets. One gold star. A shower of blue […]...
37. The Silence Though the air is full of singing My head is loud With the labor of words. Though the season is rich With fruit, my tongue Hungers for the sweet of speech. Though the beech is golden I cannot stand beside it Mute, but must say “It is golden,” while the leaves Stir and fall with […]...
38. Chamfort THERE’S Chamfort. He’s a sample. Locked himself in his library with a gun, Shot off his nose and shot out his right eye. And this Chamfort knew how to write And thousands read his books on how to live, But he himself didn’t know How to die by force of his own hand see? They […]...
39. The Wind Blew Shrill And Smart THE wind blew shrill and smart, And the wind awoke my heart Again to go a-sailing o’er the sea, To hear the cordage moan And the straining timbers groan, And to see the flying pennon lie a-lee. O sailor of the fleet, It is time to stir the feet! It’s time to man the dingy […]...
40. The Ball Poem What is the boy now, who has lost his ball, What, what is he to do? I saw it go Merrily bouncing, down the street, and then Merrily over-there it is in the water! No use to say ‘O there are other balls’: An ultimate shaking grief fixes the boy As he stands rigid, trembling, […]...