Hook

Related poetry:

1. The Golden Hook Two fish float: One slowly downstream Into the warm Currents of the known The other tugging Against the stream, Disconsolate twin, The golden Marriage hook Tearing its throat....
2. Her Praise She is foremost of those that I would hear praised. I have gone about the house, gone up and down As a man does who has published a new book, Or a young girl dressed out in her new gown, And though I have turned the talk by hook or crook Until her praise should […]...
3. Money Quarterly, is it, money reproaches me: ‘Why do you let me lie here wastefully? I am all you never had of goods and sex, You could get them still by writing a few cheques.’ So I look at others, what they do with theirs: They certainly don’t keep it upstairs. By now they’ve a second […]...
4. Homage To A Government Next year we are to bring all the soldiers home For lack of money, and it is all right. Places they guarded, or kept orderly, We want the money for ourselves at home Instead of working. And this is all right. It’s hard to say who wanted it to happen, But now it’s been decided […]...
5. The Owners Of The Little Box Line the inside of the little box With your precious skin And make yourself cozy Just as you would in your own home Make space voyages inside her Gather stars make time squirt its milk And sleep in the clouds Just don’t go around pretending You’re more important than her length And wiser than her […]...
6. Wind Song LONG ago I learned how to sleep, In an old apple orchard where the wind swept by counting its money and throwing it away, In a wind-gaunt orchard where the limbs forked out and listened or never listened at all, In a passel of trees where the branches trapped the wind into whistling, “Who, who […]...
7. At Cheyenne Young Lochinvar came in from the West, With fringe on his trousers and fur on his vest; The width of his hat-brim could nowhere be beat, His No. Brogans were chuck full of feet, His girdle was horrent with pistols and things, And he flourished a handful of aces on kings. The fair Mariana sate […]...
8. The Warm and the Cold Freezing dusk is closing Like a slow trap of steel On trees and roads and hills and all That can no longer feel. But the carp is in its depth Like a planet in its heaven. And the badger in its bedding Like a loaf in the oven. And the butterfly in its mummy Like […]...
9. To Rich Givers WHAT you give me, I cheerfully accept, A little sustenance, a hut and garden, a little money-these, as I rendezvous with my poems; A traveler’s lodging and breakfast as I journey through The States-Why should I be ashamed to own such gifts? Why to advertise for them? For I myself am not one who bestows […]...
10. Aunt Jane When Aunt Jane died we hunted round, And money everywhere we found. How much I do not care to say, But no death duties will we pay, And Aunt Jane will be well content We bilked the bloody Government. While others spent she loved to save, But couldn’t take it to her grave. While others […]...
11. The Assassin The correct death is written in. I will fill the need. My bow is stiff. My bow is in readiness. I am the bullet and the hook. I am cocked and held ready. In my sights I carve him Like a sculptor. I mold out His last look at everyone. I carry his eyes and […]...
12. I’m A Fool To Love You Some folks will tell you the blues is a woman, Some type of supernatural creature. My mother would tell you, if she could, About her life with my father, A strange and sometimes cruel gentleman. She would tell you about the choices A young black woman faces. Is falling in love with some man A […]...
13. Albert and His Savings One day, little Albert Ramsbottom To see ‘ow much money ‘e’d got Stuck a knife in ‘is money-box slot ‘ole And fiddled and fished out the lot. It amounted to fifteen and fourpence Which ‘e found by a few simple sums Were ninety two tuppenny ices Or twice that in penn’orths of gums. The sound […]...
14. Money When I had money, money, O! I knew no joy till I went poor; For many a false man as a friend Came knocking all day at my door. Then felt I like a child that holds A trumpet that he must not blow Because a man is dead; I dared Not speak to let […]...
15. Outside Fargo, North Dakota Along the sprawled body of the derailed Great Northern freight car, I strike a match slowly and lift it slowly. No wind. Beyond town, three heavy white horses Wade all the way to their shoulders In a silo shadow. Suddenly the freight car lurches. The door slams back, a man with a flashlight Calls me […]...
16. TO LEEDS BIG ISSUE SELLERS When I come from the Smoke to visit my son on the ward I see you everywhere: by the station, by the neon sign of ‘Squares’ By every shopping mall. Leeds seems to have more of you than anywhere: How do you stand there for so many hours in freezing winds When most you solicit […]...
17. Album My father is dead. I who am look at him Who is not, as once he Went looking for me In the woman who was. There are pictures Of the two of them, no Need of a third, hand In hand, hearts willing To be one but not three. What does it mean Life? I […]...
18. Willard Fluke My wife lost her health, And dwindled until she weighed scarce ninety pounds. Then that woman, whom the men Styled Cleopatra, came along. And we we married ones All broke our vows, myself among the rest. Years passed and one by one Death claimed them all in some hideous form, And I was borne along […]...
19. 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 […]...
20. A Widow Bird Sate Mourning For Her Love A widow bird sate mourning for her Love Upon a wintry bough; The frozen wind crept on above, The freezing stream below. There was no leaf upon the forest bare, No flower upon the ground, And little motion in the air Except the mill-wheel’s sound....
21. Young Fellow My Lad “Where are you going, Young Fellow My Lad, On this glittering morn of May?” “I’m going to join the Colours, Dad; They’re looking for men, they say.” “But you’re only a boy, Young Fellow My Lad; You aren’t obliged to go.” “I’m seventeen and a quarter, Dad, And ever so strong, you know.” * * […]...
22. Take Back the Virgin Page Written on Returning a Blank Book Take back the virgin page, White and unwritten still; Some hand, more calm and sage, The leaf must fill. Thoughts come, as pure as light Pure as even you require; But, oh! each word I write Love turns to fire. Yet let me keep the book: Oft shall my […]...
23. MARIE LAVEAU TALKS ABOUT MAGIC FROM A CONFESSIONAL IN ST. LOUIS CATHEDRAL Marie Laveau, a colored woman who eventually became Known as the Voodoo Queen of New Orleans, often used Her knowledge of Voodoo to manipulate and acquire power. Enigma In one quick lick I waved my mojo hand, Made the Mississippi’s muddy spine Run crooked as a crow’s foot, Scared politicians into my pocket With lizard […]...
24. Her south china sea eyes young girl With her south china sea Eyes Where an ocean wind Sighs Stands as she tries. In the silence Between day and night Between hope and dreaming, Water is carved Deep In where a poet grows In where a child to woman Perceives. A young girl dares To paint Her colors true To dance […]...
25. A Day At Union Station Departure At last, I’m leaving the familiar roof! I’m undeterred by rain and wind. This presentation should be quite a feather In my cap. Eager, I clutch my ticket. I’m going places. Not letting any grass Grow, not under these clever feet! Pigeons We admire one another’s tiny coral feet. Coooooo, coooooo under the roof. […]...
26. Cuckoo Song (Spring begins in southern England on the 14th April, on which date the Old Woman lets the Cuckoo out of her basket at Heathfield Fair locally known as Heffle Cuckoo Fair.) Tell it to the locked-up trees, Cuckoo, bring your song here! Warrant, Act and Summons, please, For Spring to pass along here! Tell old […]...
27. The Forsaken I Once in the winter Out on a lake In the heart of the north-land, Far from the Fort And far from the hunters, A Chippewa woman With her sick baby, Crouched in the last hours Of a great storm. Frozen and hungry, She fished through the ice With a line of the twisted Bark […]...
28. 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 […]...
29. Bankers Are Just Like Anybody Else, Except Richer This is a song to celebrate banks, Because they are full of money and you go into them and all You hear is clinks and clanks, Or maybe a sound like the wind in the trees on the hills, Which is the rustling of the thousand dollar bills. Most bankers dwell in marble halls, Which […]...
30. My Fathers, The Baltic Along the strand stones, Busted shells, wood scraps, Bottle tops, dimpled And stainless beer cans. Something began here A century ago, A nameless disaster, Perhaps a voyage To the lost continent Where I was born. Now the cold winds Of March dimple The gray, incoming Waves. I kneel On the wet earth Looking for a […]...
31. 207. Song-I'm O'er Young to Marry yet Chorus.-I’m o’er young, I’m o’er young, I’m o’er young to marry yet; I’m o’er young, ‘twad be a sin To tak me frae my mammy yet. I AM my mammny’s ae bairn, Wi’ unco folk I weary, sir; And lying in a man’s bed, I’m fley’d it mak me eerie, sir. I’m o’er young, &c. […]...
32. Worry About Money Wearing worry about money like a hair shirt I lie down in my bed and wrestle with my angel. My bank-manager could not sanction my continuance for another day But life itself wakes me each morning, and love Urges me to give although I have no money In the bank at this moment, and ought […]...
33. Black Oaks Okay, not one can write a symphony, or a dictionary, Or even a letter to an old friend, full of remembrance And comfort. Not one can manage a single sound though the blue jays Carp and whistle all day in the branches, without The push of the wind. But to tell the truth after a […]...
34. Valentine To The Girl In Black In hand I take this pen of mine To write you, sweet, a valentine; I’d take your dainty hand instead, But-you’re a drawing-I am wed- And that is why, you understand, I only take my pen in hand....
35. Sonnet Reversed Hand trembling towards hand; the amazing lights Of heart and eye. They stood on supreme heights. Ah, the delirious weeks of honeymoon! Soon they returned, and, after strange adventures, Settled at Balham by the end of June. Their money was in Can. Pacs. B. Debentures, And in Antofagastas. Still he went Cityward daily; still she […]...
36. Letter To My Wife 11-11-1933 Bursa Prison My one and only! Your last letter says: “My head is throbbing, my heart is stunned!” You say: “If they hang you, if I lose you, I’ll die!” You’ll live, my dear My memory will vanish like black smoke in the wind. Of course you’ll live, red-haired lady of my heart: In […]...
37. When the merry pranksters paint on years, On the dance of whispers. Where have we gone When the merry pranksters Painted the soul Of a child to woman born Where dares she grow From woodstock She chanced to dream But what did those Years, mean. She thought they Would stay… forever. But a child to woman grows It’s all a […]...
38. The Wind that Shakes the Barley There’s music in my heart all day, I hear it late and early, It comes from fields are far away, The wind that shakes the barley. Above the uplands drenched with dew The sky hangs soft and pearly, An emerald world is listening to The wind that shakes the barley. Above the bluest mountain crest […]...
39. The Poetry Reading at high noon At a small college near the beach Sober The sweat running down my arms A spot of sweat on the table I flatten it with my finger Blood money blood money My god they must think I love this like the others But it’s for bread and beer and rent Blood money […]...
40. The Professional Wanderer When you’ve knocked about the country-been away from home for years; When the past, by distance softened, nearly fills your eyes with tears – You are haunted oft, wherever or however you may roam, By a fancy that you ought to go and see the folks at home. You forget the family quarrels-little things that […]...