Why Did I Laugh Tonight? No Voice Will Tell

Related poetry:

1. The Demiurge's Laugh It was far in the sameness of the wood; I was running with joy on the Demon’s trail, Though I knew what I hunted was no true god. I was just as the light was beginning to fail That I suddenly head all I needed to hear: It has lasted me many and many a […]...
2. At the Top of My voice My most respected comrades of posterity! Rummaging among these days’ petrified crap, Exploring the twilight of our times, You, possibly, will inquire about me too. And, possibly, your scholars will declare, With their erudition overwhelming a swarm of problems; Once there lived a certain champion of boiled water, And inveterate enemy of raw water. Professor, […]...
3. Tonight I Can Write Tonight I can write the saddest lines. Write, for example, ‘The night is starry And the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.’ The night wind revolves in the sky and sings. Tonight I can write the saddest lines. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too. Through nights like this one I […]...
4. A Woman's Voice HIS head within my bosom lay, But yet his spirit slipped not through: I only felt the burning clay That withered for the cooling dew. It was but pity when I spoke And called him to my heart for rest, And half a mother’s love that woke Feeling his head upon my breast: And half […]...
5. Another barbeque tonight It rained throughout the night, a truly welcome sound That eases sleep although we barely slept – we were Distressed by other things. Today the kitchen’s centre ring, The kitchen of Anita’s dreams. It’s had a long gestation, Twenty years it’s taken just to reach this actual day (that’s in This iteration, there’s been some […]...
6. On the Birth-Day of Queen Katherine WHile yet it was the Empire of the Night, And Stars still check’r’d Darkness with their Light, From Temples round the cheerful Bells did ring, But with the Peales a churlish Storm did sing. I slumbr’d; and the Heavens like things did show, Like things which I had seen and heard below. Playing on Harps […]...
7. Lover's Gifts LVIII: Things Throng and Laugh Things throng and laugh loud in the sky; the sands and dust dance And whirl like children. Man’s mind is aroused by their shouts; his Thoughts long to be the playmates of things. Our dreams, drifting in the stream of the vague, stretch their Arms to clutch the earth, – their efforts stiffen into bricks […]...
8. Mutability They say there’s a high windless world and strange, Out of the wash of days and temporal tide, Where Faith and Good, Wisdom and Truth abide, ‘Aeterna corpora’, subject to no change. There the sure suns of these pale shadows move; There stand the immortal ensigns of our war; Our melting flesh fixed Beauty there, […]...
9. Mater Dei She looked to east, she looked to west, Her eyes, unfathomable, mild, That saw both worlds, came home to rest,­ Home to her own sweet child. God’s golden head was at her breast. What need to look o’er land and sea? What could the winged ships bring to her? What gold or gems of price […]...
10. Every Time I laugh Aloud (An Ode to Short People) Every time I laugh aloud, who springs to mind but Johnnie Howard? Cathartic laughter eases stress which Johnnie causes in excess, So when I hum acerbic lines of Randy Newman’s quirky song ‘don’t want no short people ’round here’, I am reminded there are valid grounds for jeering men With little minds. Newman claim’s ‘they’re […]...
11. On Hearing O stay, harmonious and sweet sounds, that die In the long vaultings of this ancient fane! Stay, for I may not hear on earth again Those pious airs that glorious harmony; Lifting the soul to brighter orbs on high, Worlds without sin or sorrow! Ah, the strain Has died even the last sounds that lingeringly […]...
12. His Dream I swayed upon the gaudy stem The butt-end of a steering-oar, And saw wherever I could turn A crowd upon a shore. And though I would have hushed the crowd, There was no mother’s son but said, “What is the figure in a shroud Upon a gaudy bed?’ And after running at the brim Cried […]...
13. Endurance HE bent above: so still her breath What air she breathed he could not say, Whether in worlds of life or death: So softly ebbed away, away, The life that had been light to him, So fled her beauty leaving dim The emptying chambers of his heart Thrilled only by the pang and smart, The […]...
14. The Rose Of Peace If Michael, leader of God’s host When Heaven and Hell are met, Looked down on you from Heaven’s door-post He would his deeds forget. Brooding no more upon God’s wars In his divine homestead, He would go weave out of the stars A chaplet for your head. And all folk seeing him bow down, And […]...
15. A Poet's Voice XV Part One The power of charity sows deep in my heart, and I reap and gather the wheat in bundles and give them to the hungry. My soul gives life to the grapevine and I press its bunches and give the juice to the thirsty. Heaven fills my lamp with oil and I place it […]...
16. Sonnet XXIV: I Hear Some Say I hear some say, “This man is not in love.” “What? Can he love? A likely thing,” they say; “Read but his verse, and it will easily prove.” O judge not rashly, gentle Sir, I pray. Because I trifle loosely in this sort, As one that fain his sorrows would beguile, You now suppose me […]...
17. In Youth I have Known One How often we forget all time, when lone Admiring Nature’s universal throne; Her woods – her winds – her mountains – the intense Reply of Hers to Our intelligence! I. In youth I have known one with whom the Earth In secret communing held – as he with it, In daylight, and in beauty, from […]...
18. Ernie Pyle I wish I had a simple style In writing verse, As in his prose had Ernie Pyle, So true and terse; Springing so forthright from the heart With guileless art. I wish I could put back a dram As Ernie could; I wish that I could cuss and damn As soldier should; And fain with […]...
19. Stanzas How often we forget all time, when lone Admiring Nature’s universal throne; Her woods – her wilds – her mountains – the intense Reply of HERS to OUR intelligence! [BYRON, The Island.] I In youth have I known one with whom the Earth In secret communing held – as he with it, In daylight, and […]...
20. Thekla – A Spirit Voice Whither was it that my spirit wended When from thee my fleeting shadow moved? Is not now each earthly conflict ended? Say, have I not lived, have I not loved? Art thou for the nightingales inquiring Who entranced thee in the early year With their melody so joy-inspiring? Only whilst they loved they lingered here. […]...
21. Tonight The moon is a curving flower of gold, The sky is still and blue; The moon was made for the sky to hold, And I for you. The moon is a flower without a stem, The sky is luminous; Eternity was made for them, To-night for us....
22. The Last Laugh ‘O Jesus Christ! I’m hit,’ he said; and died. Whether he vainly cursed, or prayed indeed, The Bullets chirped – ‘In vain! vain! vain!’ Machine-guns chuckled, ‘Tut-tut! Tut-tut!’ And the Big Gun guffawed. Another sighed, – ‘O Mother, Mother! Dad!’ Then smiled, at nothing, childlike, being dead. And the lofty Shrapnel-cloud Leisurely gestured, – ‘Fool!’ […]...
23. The Call Out of the nothingness of sleep, The slow dreams of Eternity, There was a thunder on the deep: I came, because you called to me. I broke the Night’s primeval bars, I dared the old abysmal curse, And flashed through ranks of frightened stars Suddenly on the universe! The eternal silences were broken; Hell became […]...
24. Beauty and Beauty When Beauty and Beauty meet All naked, fair to fair, The earth is crying-sweet, And scattering-bright the air, Eddying, dizzying, closing round, With soft and drunken laughter; Veiling all that may befall After after Where Beauty and Beauty met, Earth’s still a-tremble there, And winds are scented yet, And memory-soft the air, Bosoming, folding glints […]...
25. Poetry For Supper ‘Listen, now, verse should be as natural As the small tuber that feeds on muck And grows slowly from obtuse soil To the white flower of immortal beauty.’ ‘Natural, hell! What was it Chaucer Said once about the long toil That goes like blood to the poem’s making? Leave it to nature and the verse […]...
26. Lift Every Voice and Sing Lift ev’ry voice and sing, Till earth and heaven ring, Ring with the harmonies of Liberty; Let our rejoicing rise High as the list’ning skies, Let it resound loud as the rolling sea. Sing a song full of the faith that the dark past has taught us, Sing a song full of the hope that […]...
27. There Is a Solemn Wind Tonight There is a solemn wind to-night That sings of solemn rain; The trees that have been quiet so long Flutter and start again. The slender trees, the heavy trees, The fruit trees laden and proud, Lift up their branches to the wind That cries to them so loud. The little bushes and the plants Bow […]...
28. LE JARDIN The lily’s withered chalice falls Around its rod of dusty gold, And from the beech-trees on the wold The last wood-pigeon coos and calls. The gaudy leonine sunflower Hangs black and barren on its stalk, And down the windy garden walk The dead leaves scatter, – hour by hour. Pale privet-petals white as milk Are […]...
29. Music on Christmas Morning Music I love -­ but never strain Could kindle raptures so divine, So grief assuage, so conquer pain, And rouse this pensive heart of mine -­ As that we hear on Christmas morn, Upon the wintry breezes borne. Though Darkness still her empire keep, And hours must pass, ere morning break; From troubled dreams, or […]...
30. Hymn 170 God incomprehensible and sovereign. [Can creatures to perfection find Th’ eternal, uncreated Mind? Or can the largest stretch of thought Measure and search his nature out? ‘Tis high as heav’n, ’tis deep as hell And what can mortals know or tell? His glory spreads beyond the sky, And all the shining worlds on high. But […]...
31. Last Look What would I choose to see when I To this bright earth shall bid good-bye? When fades forever from my sight The world I’ve loved with long delight? What would I pray to look on last, When Death shall draw the Curtain fast? I’ve loved the farewell of the Sun, Low-lapsing after work well done; […]...
32. 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 […]...
33. God's Vagabond A passion to be free Has ever mastered me; To none beneath the sun Will I bow down, not one Shall leash my liberty. My life’s my own; I rise With glory in my eyes; And my concept of hell Is to be forced to sell Myself to one who buys. With heart of rebel […]...
34. When I Have Fears That I May Cease To Be When I have fears that I may cease to be Before my pen has glean’d my teeming brain, Before high-piled books, in charactery, Hold like rich garners the full ripen’d grain; When I behold, upon the night’s starr’d face, Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance, And think that I may never live to trace […]...
35. Her Voice The wild bee reels from bough to bough With his furry coat and his gauzy wing, Now in a lily-cup, and now Setting a jacinth bell a-swing, In his wandering; Sit closer love: it was here I trow I made that vow, Swore that two lives should be like one As long as the sea-gull […]...
36. Again his voice is at the door Again his voice is at the door I feel the old Degree I hear him ask the servant For such an one as me I take a flower as I go My face to justify He never saw me in this life I might surprise his eye! I cross the Hall with mingled steps I […]...
37. HUGHES' VOICE IN MY HEAD As soon as we crossed into Yorkshire Hughes’ voice assailed me, unmistakable Gravel and honey, a raw celebration of rain Like a tattered lacework window; Black glisten on roof slates, Tarmac turned to shining ice, Blusters of naked wind whipping The wavelets of shifting water To imaginary floating islets On the turbulent river Glumly he […]...
38. Vanity My tangoing seemed to delight her; With me it was love at first sight. I mentioned That I was a writer: She asked me: “What is it you write?” “Oh, only best-sellers,” I told her. Their titles? . . . She shook her blonde head; The atmosphere seemed to grow colder: Not one of my […]...
39. The Voice of Toil I heard men saying, Leave hope and praying, All days shall be as all have been; To-day and to-morrow bring fear and sorrow, The never-ending toil between. When Earth was younger mid toil and hunger, In hope we strove, and our hands were strong; Then great men led us, with words they fed us, And […]...
40. The Voice of the Waters WHERE the Greyhound River windeth through a loneliness so deep, Scarce a wild fowl shakes the quiet that the purple boglands keep, Only God exults in silence over fields no man may reap. Where the silver wave with sweetness fed the tiny lives of grass I was bent above, my image mirrored in the fleeting […]...