Days of the slow roll

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1. Should the wide world roll away Should the wide world roll away, Leaving black terror, Limitless night, Nor God, nor man, nor place to stand Would be to me essential, If thou and thy white arms were there, And the fall to doom a long way....
2. I made slow Riches but my Gain I made slow Riches but my Gain Was steady as the Sun And every Night, it numbered more Than the preceding One All Days, I did not earn the same But my perceiveless Gain Inferred the less by Growing than The Sum that it had grown....
3. Rich Days Welcome to you rich Autumn days, Ere comes the cold, leaf-picking wind; When golden stocks are seen in fields, All standing arm-in-arm entwined; And gallons of sweet cider seen On trees in apples red and green. With mellow pears that cheat our teeth, Which melt that tongues may suck them in; With blue-black damsons, yellow […]...
4. Sonnet 51: Thus can my love excuse the slow offence Thus can my love excuse the slow offence Of my dull bearer, when from thee I speed: From where thou art, why should I haste me thence? Till I return, of posting is no need. O, what excuse will my poor beast then find When swift extremity can seem but slow? Then should I spur, […]...
5. Dreams of better days At break of day we rested, the contest of our wills Declined to wrest the peace away and where The foreign powers held sway a quiet was in abundance; A ghostly calm entranced the crowd shrouded In the shadow dance we left them, proud and unafraid, We fled the play, we fled the crowd, we […]...
6. One Cigarette No smoke without you, my fire. After you left, Your cigarette glowed on in my ashtray And sent up a long thread of such quiet grey I smiled to wonder who would believe its signal Of so much love. One cigarette In the non-smoker’s tray. As the last spire Trembles up, a sudden draught Blows […]...
7. These are the days when Birds come back These are the days when Birds come back A very few a Bird or two To take a backward look. These are the days when skies resume The old old sophistries of June A blue and gold mistake. Oh fraud that cannot cheat the Bee Almost thy plausibility Induces my belief. Till ranks of seeds […]...
8. OPEN TABLE MANY a guest I’d see to-day, Met to taste my dishes! Food in plenty is prepar’d, Birds, and game, and fishes. Invitations all have had, All proposed attending. Johnny, go and look around! Are they hither wending? Pretty girls I hope to see, Dear and guileless misses, Ignorant how sweet it is Giving tender kisses. […]...
9. This slow Day moved along This slow Day moved along I heard its axles go As if they could not hoist themselves They hated motion so I told my soul to come It was no use to wait We went and played and came again And it was out of sight...
10. A Night there lay the Days between A Night there lay the Days between The Day that was Before And Day that was Behind were one And now ’twas Night was here Slow Night that must be watched away As Grains upon a shore Too imperceptible to note Till it be night no more...
11. Go slow, my soul, to feed thyself Go slow, my soul, to feed thyself Upon his rare approach Go rapid, lest Competing Death Prevail upon the Coach Go timid, should his final eye Determine thee amiss Go boldly for thou paid’st his price Redemption for a Kiss...
12. They talk as slow as Legends grow They talk as slow as Legends grow No mushroom is their mind But foliage of sterility Too stolid for the wind They laugh as wise as Plots of Wit Predestined to unfold The point with bland prevision Portentously untold....
13. It ceased to hurt me, though so slow It ceased to hurt me, though so slow I could not feel the Anguish go But only knew by looking back That something had benumbed the Track Nor when it altered, I could say, For I had worn it, every day, As constant as the Childish frock I hung upon the Peg, at night. But […]...
14. Days I am a Day. . . My sky is grey, My wind is wild, My sea high-piled: In year of days the first In misery. . . Oh pity me! I am a Day Accurst. “Sweet Day, not curst but blest: Behold upon my breast My baby born Your early morn. Safe in my arms […]...
15. Flounder Here, she said, put this on your head. She handed me a hat. You ’bout as white as your dad, And you gone stay like that. Aunt Sugar rolled her nylons down Around each bony ankle, And I rolled down my white knee socks Letting my thin legs dangle, Circling them just above water And […]...
16. Days What are days for? Days are where we live. They come, they wake us Time and time over. They are to be happy in: Where can we live but days? Ah, solving that question Brings the priest and the doctor In their long coats Running over the fields....
17. The Day came slow till Five o'clock The Day came slow till Five o’clock Then sprang before the Hills Like Hindered Rubies or the Light A Sudden Musket spills The Purple could not keep the East The Sunrise shook abroad Like Breadths of Topaz packed a Night The Lady just unrolled The Happy Winds their Timbrels took The Birds in docile Rows […]...
18. Sonnet: Languid, And Sad, And Slow, From Day To Day Languid, and sad, and slow, from day to day I journey on, yet pensive turn to view (Where the rich landscape gleams with softer hue) The streams and vales, and hills, that steal away. So fares it with the children of the earth: For when life’s goodly prospect opens round, Their spirits beat to tread […]...
19. Half Moon in a High Wind MONEY is nothing now, even if I had it, O mooney moon, yellow half moon, Up over the green pines and gray elms, Up in the new blue. Streel, streel, White lacey mist sheets of cloud, Streel in the blowing of the wind, Streel over the blue-and-moon sky, Yellow gold half moon. It is light […]...
20. South of my Days South of my days’ circle, part of my blood’s country, Rises that tableland, high delicate outline Of bony slopes wincing under the winter, Low trees, blue-leaved and olive, outcropping granite – Clean, lean, hungry country. The creek’s leaf-silenced, Willow choked, the slope a tangle of medlar and crabapple Branching over and under, blotched with a […]...
21. VI. Evening, as slow thy placid shades descend EVENING, as slow thy placid shades descend, Veiling with gentlest hush the landscape still, The lonely battlement, and farthest hill And wood; I think of those that have no friend; Who now perhaps, by melancholy led, From the broad blaze of day, where pleasure flaunts, Retiring, wander ‘mid thy lonely haunts Unseen; and mark the […]...
22. THE DAYS GO BY for Daniel Weissbort Some poems meant only for my eyes About a grief I can’t let go But I want to, want to throw It away like an old worn-out cloak Or screw up like a ball of over-written Trash and toss into the corner bin. I said it must come up or out I […]...
23. As Slow Our Ship As slow our ship her foamy track Against the wind was cleaving, Her trembling pennant still look’d back To that dear isle ’twas leaving. So loath we part from all we love, From all the links that bind us; So turn our hearts as on we rove, To those we’ve left behind us. When, round […]...
24. Like A Flower In The Rain I cut the middle fingernail of the middle Finger Right hand Real short And I began rubbing along her cunt As she sat upright in bed Spreading lotion over her arms Face And breasts After bathing. Then she lit a cigarette: “don’t let this put you off,” An smoked and continued to rub The lotion […]...
25. The Elephant Is Slow To Mate The elephant, the huge old beast, is slow to mate; He finds a female, they show no haste they wait For the sympathy in their vast shy hearts slowly, slowly to rouse As they loiter along the river-beds and drink and browse And dash in panic through the brake of forest with the herd, And […]...
26. Slow Spring O year, grow slowly. Exquisite, holy, The days go on With almonds showing the pink stars blowing And birds in the dawn. Grow slowly, year, like a child that is dear, Or a lamb that is mild, By little steps, and by little skips, Like a lamb or a child....
27. The Raven Days Our hearths are gone out and our hearts are broken, And but the ghosts of homes to us remain, And ghastly eyes and hollow sighs give token From friend to friend of an unspoken pain. O Raven days, dark Raven days of sorrow, Bring to us in your whetted ivory beaks Some sign out of […]...
28. Let Erin Remember the Days of Old Let Erin remember the days of old, Ere her faithless sons betray’d her; When Malachi wore the collar of gold, Which he won from her proud invader, When her kings, with standard of green unfurl’d, Led the Red-Branch Knights to danger! Ere the emerald gem of the western world Was set in the crown of […]...
29. Momma Welfare Roll Her arms semaphore fat triangles, Pudgy HANDS bunched on layered hips Where bones idle under years of fatback And lima beans. Her jowls shiver in accusation Of crimes cliched by Repetition. Her children, strangers To childhood’s TOYS, play Best the games of darkened doorways, Rooftop tag, and know the slick feel of Other people’s property. […]...
30. The Slow Nature (an Incident of Froom Valley) “THY husband poor, poor Heart! is dead Dead, out by Moreford Rise; A bull escaped the barton-shed, Gored him, and there he lies!” “Ha, ha go away! ‘Tis a tale, methink, Thou joker Kit!” laughed she. “I’ve known thee many a year, Kit Twink, And ever hast thou fooled me!” […]...
31. Through These Pale Cold Days Through these pale cold days What dark faces burn Out of three thousand years, And their wild eyes yearn, While underneath their brows Like waifs their spirits grope For the pools of Hebron again For Lebanon’s summer slope. They leave these blond still days In dust behind their tread They see with living eyes How […]...
32. In The Days When The World Was Wide The world is narrow and ways are short, and our lives are dull and slow, For little is new where the crowds resort, and less where the wanderers go; Greater, or smaller, the same old things we see by the dull road-side And tired of all is the spirit that sings Of the days when […]...
33. The best days of my life What is it about Bryan Adams and his song ‘Summer of 69’? Why do the lyrics linger? Was it 90° in the shade and the harbinger of the end Of the golden weather, or the impending closure Of a glorious decade? He should have called it ‘The best days of my life’, it would have […]...
34. The Light of Other Days OFT, in the stilly night, Ere slumber’s chain has bound me, Fond Memory brings the light Of other days around me: The smiles, the tears Of boyhood’s years, The words of love then spoken; The eyes that shone, Now dimm’d and gone, The cheerful hearts now broken! Thus, in the stilly night, Ere slumber’s chain […]...
35. In Three Days I. So, I shall see her in three days And just one night, but nights are short, Then two long hours, and that is morn. See how I come, unchanged, unworn! Feel, where my life broke off from thine, How fresh the splinters keep and fine, – Only a touch and we combine! II. Too […]...
36. There Were Dry Red Days by Sharmagne Leland-St. John There were dry red days Devoid of clouds Devoid of breeze Sound bruised My burning bones Dirt cracked my hands And caked my cheeks No buds on limbs of trees No birds on branches No hope of rain Scrawny chickens Kicked up dust Scratching for food That wasn’t there In the […]...
37. Regarding Art Sometimes, I, too, tell the ah’s Of my heart one by one Like the blood-red beads Of a ruby rosary strung on strands of golden hair! But my Poetry’s muse Takes to the air On wings made of steel Like the I-beams of my suspension bridges! I don’t pretend the nightingale’s lament To the rose […]...
38. The Roaring Days The night too quickly passes And we are growing old, So let us fill our glasses And toast the Days of Gold; When finds of wondrous treasure Set all the South ablaze, And you and I were faithful mates All through the roaring days! Then stately ships came sailing From every harbour’s mouth, And sought […]...
39. Bric-a-Brac Little things that no one needs Little things to joke about Little landscapes, done in beads. Little morals, woven out, Little wreaths of gilded grass, Little brigs of whittled oak Bottled painfully in glass; These are made by lonely folk. Lonely folk have lines of days Long and faltering and thin; Therefore little wax bouquets, […]...
40. Four Days In Vermont Window’s tree trunk’s predominant face A single eye-leveled hole where limb’s torn off Another larger contorts to swell growing in around Imploding wound beside a clutch of thin twigs Hold to one two three four five six dry twisted Yellowish brown leaves flat against the other Gray trees in back stick upright then the glimpse […]...