Saint Judas

Related poetry:

1. The Saint And The Hunchback Hunchback. Stand up and lift your hand and bless A man that finds great bitterness In thinking of his lost renown. A Roman Caesar is held down Under this hump. Saint. God tries each man According to a different plan. I shall not cease to bless because I lay about me with the taws That […]...
2. Song For Saint Cecilia's Day, 1687 From Harmony, from heavenly Harmony This universal frame began: When nature underneath a heap Of jarring atoms lay And could not heave her head, The tuneful voice was heard from high, Arise, ye more than dead! Then cold, and hot, and moist, and dry In order to their stations leap, And Music’s power obey. From […]...
3. Saint, Revolutionist Saint, revolutionist, God and sage know well, That there is a place Where that much-rung bell, The well-beloved body, And its sensitive face Must be sacrificed. There is, it seems, in this A something meaningless, Hanging without support And yet too dear to touch, That life should seek its end Where no will can descend, […]...
4. The Sale of Saint Thomas A quay with vessels moored Thomas To India! Yea, here I may take ship; From here the courses go over the seas, Along which the intent prows wonderfully Nose like lean hounds, and tack their journeys out, Making for harbours as some sleuth was laid For them to follow on their shifting road. Again I […]...
5. Slugging Saint ‘Twas in a pub in Battersea They call the “Rose and Crown,” Quite suddenly, it seemed to me, The Lord was looking down; The Lord was looking from above, And shiny was His face, And I was filled with gush of love For all the human race. Anon I saw three ancient men Who reckoned […]...
6. The Return of Frankenstein He didn’t die in the whirlpool by the mill Where he had fallen in after a wild chase By all the people of the town. Somehow he clung to an overhanging rock Until the villagers went away. And when he came out, he was changed forever, That soft heart of his had hardened And he […]...
7. Floss won't save you from an Abyss Floss won’t save you from an Abyss But a Rope will Notwithstanding a Rope for a Souvenir Is not beautiful But I tell you every step is a Trough And every stop a Well Now will you have the Rope or the Floss? Prices reasonable...
8. A Hymn to the Name and Honour of the Admirable Saint Teresa LOVE, thou are absolute, sole Lord Of life and death. To prove the word, We’ll now appeal to none of all Those thy old soldiers, great and tall, Ripe men of martyrdom, that could reach down With strong arms their triumphant crown: Such as could with lusty breath Speak loud, unto the face of death, […]...
9. The Ships of Saint John Where are the ships I used to know, That came to port on the Fundy tide Half a century ago, In beauty and stately pride? In they would come past the beacon light, With the sun on gleaming sail and spar, Folding their wings like birds in flight From countries strange and far. Schooner and […]...
10. 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 […]...
11. Methought I Saw My Late Espoused Saint Methought I saw my late espoused Saint Brought to me like Alcestus from the grave, Who Jove’s great Son to her glad Husband gave, Rescu’d from death by force though pale and faint. Mine as whom washt from spot of child-bed taint Purification in the old Law did save, And such as yet once more […]...
12. Upon the Book and Picture of the Seraphical Saint Teresa O THOU undaunted daughter of desires! By all thy dower of lights and fires; By all the eagle in thee, all the dove; By all thy lives and deaths of love; By thy large draughts of intellectual day, And by thy thirsts of love more large than they; By all thy brim-fill’d bowls of fierce […]...
13. The Bishop Orders His Tomb At Saint Praxed's Church Vanity, saith the preacher, vanity! Draw round my bed: is Anselm keeping back? Nephews sons mine ah God, I know not! Well She, men would have to be your mother once, Old Gandolf envied me, so fair she was! What’s done is done, and she is dead beside, Dead long ago, and I am Bishop […]...
14. Time to play It is a pristine page, clean on the blue screen Where I compose, I don’t expect it to stay that way As words glow from blunt, abused fingers, as insistent Sounds in my head translate into sentence structures, As lips articulate the rhythms and the sounds of the Jumbled lexis as swiftly as I can […]...
15. Hoodlums I AM a hoodlum, you are a hoodlum, we and all of us are a world of hoodlums-maybe so. I hate and kill better men than I am, so do you, so do all of us-maybe-maybe so. In the ends of my fingers the itch for another man’s neck, I want to see him hanging, […]...
16. A Portrait in Georgia Hair-braided chestnut, Coiled like a lyncher’s rope, Eyes-fagots, Lips-old scars, or the first red blisters, Breath-the last sweet scent of cane, And her slim body, white as the ash Of black flesh after flame....
17. H. Baptism II Since, Lord, to thee A narrow way and little gate Is all the passage, on my infancy Thou didst lay hold, and antedate My faith in me. O let me still Write thee great God, and me a child: Let me be soft and supple to thy will, Small to my self, to others mild, […]...
18. The Argument Of His Book I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers, Of April, May, of June, and July-flowers. I sing of May-poles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes, Of bridegrooms, brides, and of their bridal-cakes. I write of youth, of love, and have access By these to sing of cleanly wantonness. I sing of dews, of rains, and piece by […]...
19. Hymn 161 Christian virtues; or, The difficulty of conversion. Strait is the way, the door is strait, That leads to joys on high; ‘Tis but a few that find the gate, While crowds mistake, and die. Beloved self must be denied, The mind and will renewed Passion suppressed, and patience tried, And vain desires subdued. [Flesh is […]...
20. And love has changed to kindliness When love has changed to kindliness Oh, love, our hungry lips, that press So tight that Time’s an old god’s dream Nodding in heaven, and whisper stuff Seven million years were not enough To think on after, make it seem Less than the breath of children playing, A blasphemy scarce worth the saying, A sorry […]...
21. Child Margaret THE CHILD Margaret begins to write numbers on a Saturday morning, the first numbers formed under her wishing child fingers. All the numbers come well-born, shaped in figures assertive for a frieze in a child’s room. Both 1 and 7 are straightforward, military, filled with lunge and attack, erect in shoulder-straps. The 6 and 9 […]...
22. I Am Poem by Anne-Marie Derése, translated by Judith Skillman. I am the red brand On the shoulder of the condemned, The gallows and the rope, The ax and the block, The whip and the cross. I am the lion’s tooth In the flesh of the gazelle. In my veins I have The blood of the slave […]...
23. Roger Heston Oh many times did Ernest Hyde and I Argue about the freedom of the will. My favorite metaphor was Prickett’s cow Roped out to grass, and free you know as far As the length of the rope. One day while arguing so, watching the cow Pull at the rope to get beyond the circle Which […]...
24. To an Ungentle Critic The great sun sinks behind the town Through a red mist of Volnay wine…. But what’s the use of setting down That glorious blaze behind the town? You’ll only skip the page, you’ll look For newer pictures in this book; You’ve read of sunsets rich as mine. A fresh wind fills the evening air With […]...
25. The Sun kept setting setting still The Sun kept setting setting still No Hue of Afternoon Upon the Village I perceived From House to House ’twas Noon The Dusk kept dropping dropping still No Dew upon the Grass But only on my Forehead stopped And wandered in my Face My Feet kept drowsing drowsing still My fingers were awake Yet why […]...
26. Aftermath I learnt to write to you in happier days, And every letter was a piece I chipped From off my heart, a fragment newly clipped From the mosaic of life; its blues and grays, Its throbbing reds, I gave to earn your praise. To make a pavement for your feet I stripped My soul for […]...
27. In The Well My father cinched the rope, A noose around my waist, And lowered me into The darkness. I could taste My fear. It tasted first Of dark, then earth, then rot. I swung and struck my head And at that moment got Another then: then blood, Which spiked my mouth with iron. Hand over hand, my […]...
28. Parable Of The Four-Poster Because she wants to touch him, She moves away. Because she wants to talk to him, She keeps silent. Because she wants to kiss him, She turns away & kisses a man she does not want to kiss. He watches Thinking she does not want him. He listens Hearing her silence. He turns away Thinking […]...
29. Dream Song 10: There were strange gatherings. A vote would come There were strange gatherings. A vote would come That would be no vote. There would come a rope. Yes. There would come a rope. Men have their hats down. “Dancing in the Dark” Will see him up, car-radio-wise. So many, some Won’t find a rut to park. It is in the occasions, that—not the fathomless […]...
30. Five Ways To Kill A Man There are many cumbersome ways to kill a man. You can make him carry a plank of wood To the top of a hill and nail him to it. To do this Properly you require a crowd of people Wearing sandals, a cock that crows, a cloak To dissect, a sponge, some vinegar and one […]...
31. The Farmer's Daughter The Rector met a little lass Who led a heifer by a rope. Said he: “Why don’t you go to Mass? Do you not want to please the Pope?” The village maiden made reply, As on the rope she ceased to pull: “My father said this morning I Must take Paquerette to see the bull.” […]...
32. Some Like Poetry Write it. Write. In ordinary ink On ordinary paper: they were given no food, They all died of hunger. “All. How many? It’s a big meadow. How much grass For each one?” Write: I don’t know. History counts its skeletons in round numbers. A thousand and one remains a thousand, As though the one had […]...
33. 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...
34. The Moon, how definite its orb! (fragment) The Moon, how definite its orb! Yet gaze again, and with a steady gaze ‘Tis there indeed, but where is it not? It is suffused o’er all the sapphire Heaven, Trees, herbage, snake-like stream, unwrinkled Lake, Whose very murmur does of it partake And low and close the broad smooth mountain Is more a thing […]...
35. Shakespeare Would that in body and spirit Shakespeare came Visible emperor of the deeds of Time, With Justice still the genius of his rhyme, Giving each man his due, each passion grace, Impartial as the rain from Heaven’s face Or sunshine from the heaven-enthroned sun. Sweet Swan of Avon, come to us again. Teach us to […]...
36. Time's Revenges I’ve a Friend, over the sea; I like him, but he loves me. It all grew out of the books I write; They find such favour in his sight That he slaughters you with savage looks Because you don’t admire my books. He does himself though, – and if some vein Were to snap to-night […]...
37. 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...
38. Ametas And Thestylis Making Hay-Ropes Ametas Think’st Thou that this Love can stand, Whilst Thou still dost say me nay? Love unpaid does soon disband: Love binds Love as Hay binds Hay. Thestylis Think’st Thou that this Rope would twine If we both should turn one way? Where both parties so combine, Neither Love will twist nor Hay. Ametas Thus […]...
39. The Lake Isle Of Innisfree I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made: Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee, And live alone in the bee-loud glade. And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, Dropping from the veils […]...
40. Jump Rope There is menace In its relentless course, round and round, Describing an ellipsoid, An airy prison in which a young girl Is incarcerated. Whom will she marry? Whom will she love? The rope, like a snake, Has the gift of divination, Yet reveals only a hint, a single initial. But what if she never misses? […]...