DARKIES

Related poetry:

1. July 12 Wisteria, hysteria is as obvious a rhyme As Viagra and Niagara there must be a reason Honeymooners traditionally went to the Falls Which were, said the divine Oscar, An American bride’s second biggest disappointment Tell me which do you like better, The American Falls or the Horseshoe Falls, I say the Horseshoe Falls, Joe says, […]...
2. The Boola-Boola Maid In the wilds of Madagascar, Dwelt a Boola-boola maid; For her hand young men would ask her, But she always was afraid. Oh that Boola-boola maid She was living in the shade Of a spreading Yum-yum tree; And – when the day was done At the setting of the sun, She would make this melodee: […]...
3. The Next War You young friskies who today Jump and fight in Father’s hay With bows and arrows and wooden spears, Playing at Royal Welch Fusiliers, Happy though these hours you spend, Have they warned you how games end? Boys, from the first time you prod And thrust with spears of curtain-rod, From the first time you tear […]...
4. The bow-leg boy Who should come up the road one day But the doctor-man in his two-wheel shay! And he whoaed his horse and he cried “Ahoy! I have brought you folks a bow-leg boy! Such a cute little boy! Such a funny little boy! Such a dear little bow-leg boy!” He took out his box and he […]...
5. Cotton and Corn Said Cotton to Corn, t’other day, As they met and exchang’d salute (Squire Corn in his carriage so gay, Poor Cotton, half famish’d on foot): “Great Squire, if it isn’t uncivil To hint at starvation before you, Look down on a poor hungry devil, And give him some bread, I implore you!” Quoth Corn, then, […]...
6. Everybody Knows (co-written by Sharon Robinson) Everybody knows that the dice are loaded Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed Everybody knows that the war is over Everybody knows the good guys lost Everybody knows the fight was fixed The poor stay poor, the rich get rich That’s how it goes Everybody knows Everybody knows that the boat […]...
7. August 8th And do not be indiscreet or unconventional. Play it safe. Listen here. I’ve never played it safe In spite of what the critics say. Ask my imaginary brother, that waif, That childhood best friend who comes to play Dress-up and stick-up and jacks and Pick-Up-Sticks, Bike downtown, stick out tongues at the Catholics. Or form […]...
8. Sackcloth I made sackcloth also my garment; and I became a proverb to them. They that sit in the gate speak against me; and I was the song of drunkards. Psalm 102 I made sackcloth my garment once, by cutting Arm and neck holes into a burlap bag. A croker sack they called it. Sackdragger They […]...
9. Clothes Put on a clean shirt Before you die, some Russian said. Nothing with drool, please, No egg spots, no blood, No sweat, no sperm. You want me clean, God, So I’ll try to comply. The hat I was married in, Will it do? White, broad, fake flowers in a tiny array. It’s old-fashioned, as stylish […]...
10. A Poem For Myself (or Blues for a Mississippi Black Boy) I was born in Mississippi; I walked barefooted thru the mud. Born black in Mississippi, Walked barefooted thru the mud. But, when I reached the age of twelve I left that place for good. My daddy chopped cotton And he drank his liquor straight. Said my daddy chopped […]...
11. I Want To Die In My Own Bed All night the army came up from Gilgal To get to the killing field, and that’s all. In the ground, warf and woof, lay the dead. I want to die in My own bed. Like slits in a tank, their eyes were uncanny, I’m always the few and they are the many. I must answer. […]...
12. Stars (For the Rev. James J. Daly, S. J.) Bright stars, yellow stars, flashing through the air, Are you errant strands of Lady Mary’s hair? As she slits the cloudy veil and bends down through, Do you fall across her cheeks and over heaven too? Gay stars, little stars, you are little eyes, Eyes of baby […]...
13. Los Angeles, 1954 It was in the old days, When she used to hang out at a place Called Club Zombie, A black cabaret that the police liked To raid now and then. As she Stepped through the door, the light Would hit her platinum hair, And believe me, heads would turn. Maestro Loved it; he’d have her […]...
14. Late Love How they strut about, people in love, How tall they grow, pleased with themselves, Their hair, glossy, their skin shining. They don’t remember who they have been. How filmic they are just for this time. How important they’ve become – secret, above The order of things, the dreary mundane. Every church bell ringing, a fresh […]...
15. Talking (and Singing) of the Nordic Man I Behold, my child, the Nordic man, And be as like him, as you can; His legs are long, his mind is slow, His hair is lank and made of tow. II And here we have the Alpine Race: Oh! What a broad and foolish face! His skin is of a dirty yellow. He is […]...
16. Ami Green Not “a youth with hoary head and haggard eye,” But an old man with a smooth skin And black hair! I had the face of a boy as long as I lived, And for years a soul that was stiff and bent, In a world which saw me just as a jest, To be hailed […]...
17. Picnic Boat SUNDAY night and the park policemen tell each other it Is dark as a stack of black cats on Lake Michigan. A big picnic boat comes home to Chicago from the peach Farms of Saugatuck. Hundreds of electric bulbs break the night’s darkness, a Flock of red and yellow birds with wings at a standstill. […]...
18. Sonnet V: Nothing But No Nothing but “No,” and “Aye,” and “Aye,” and “No”? How falls it out so strangely you reply? I tell ye, Fair, I’ll not be answer’d so, With this affirming “No,” denying “Aye.” I say, “I love,” you slightly answer “Aye”; I say, “You love,” you pule me out a “No”; I say, “I die,” you […]...
19. Wedding Each strips his own skin Each bares his own constellation Which has never seen the night Each fills his skin with rocks And plays with it Lit by his own stars Who doesn’t stop till dawn Who doesn’t bat an eyelid or fall Earns his own skin (This game is rarely played)...
20. The Last Evening And night and distant rumbling; now the army’s Carrier-train was moving out, to war. He looked up from the harpsichord, and as He went on playing, he looked across at her Almost as one might gaze into a mirror: So deeply was her every feature filled With his young features, which bore his pain and […]...
21. The Inventory Of Goodbye I have a pack of letters, I have a pack of memories. I could cut out the eyes of both. I could wear them like a patchwork apron. I could stick them in the washer, the drier, And maybe some of the pain would float off like dirt? Perhaps down the disposal I could grind […]...
22. Winnie When I went by the meadow gate The chestnut mare would trot to meet me, And as her coming I would wait, She’d whinney high as if to greet me. And I would kiss her silky nose, And stroke her neck until it glistened, And speak soft words: I don’t suppose She understand – but […]...
23. November Cotton Flower Boll-weevil’s coming, and the winter’s cold, Made cotton-stalks look rusty, seasons old, And cotton, scarce as any southern snow, Was vanishing; the branch, so pinched and slow, Failed in its function as the autumn rake; Drouth fighting soil had caused the soil to take All water from the streams; dead birds were found In wells […]...
24. Sweet Stay-at-Home Sweet Stay-at-Home, sweet Well-content, Thou knowest of no strange continent; Thou hast not felt thy bosom keep A gentle motion with the deep; Thou hast not sailed in Indian seas, Where scent comes forth in every breeze. Thou hast not seen the rich grape grow For miles, as far as eyes can go: Thou hast […]...
25. The Lost Ingredient Almost yesterday, those gentle ladies stole To their baths in Atlantic Cuty, for the lost Rites of the first sea of the first salt Running from a faucet. I have heard they sat For hours in briny tubs, patting hotel towels Sweetly over shivered skin, smelling the stale Harbor of a lost ocean, praying at […]...
26. The Geebung Polo Club It was somewhere up the country, in a land of rock and scrub, That they formed an institution called the Geebung Polo Club. They were long and wiry natives from the rugged mountain side, And the horse was never saddled that the Geebungs couldn’t ride; But their style of playing polo was irregular and rash […]...
27. Consorting With Angels I was tired of being a woman, Tired of the spoons and the post, Tired of my mouth and my breasts, Tired of the cosmetics and the silks. There were still men who sat at my table, Circled around the bowl I offered up. The bowl was filled with purple grapes And the flies hovered […]...
28. Behold, the grave of a wicked man Behold, the grave of a wicked man, And near it, a stern spirit. There came a drooping maid with violets, But the spirit grasped her arm. “No flowers for him,” he said. The maid wept: “Ah, I loved him.” But the spirit, grim and frowning: “No flowers for him.” Now, this is it If the […]...
29. The Quip The merry world did on a day With his train-bands and mates agree To meet together where I lay, And all in sport to jeer at me. First, Beauty crept into a rose, Which when I plucked not, “Sir,” said she, “Tell me, I pray, whose hands are those?” But thou shalt answer, Lord, for […]...
30. The Licorice Fields at Pontefract In the licorice fields at Pontefract My love and I did meet And many a burdened licorice bush Was blooming round our feet; Red hair she had and golden skin, Her sulky lips were shaped for sin, Her sturdy legs were flannel-slack’d The strongest legs in Pontefract. The light and dangling licorice flowers Gave off […]...
31. Charlie French Did you ever find out Which of the boys it was Who snapped the toy pistol against my hand? There when the flags were red and white In the breeze and “Bucky” Estil Was firing the cannon brought to Spoon River From Vicksburg by Captain Harris; And the lemonade stands running And the band was […]...
32. Silent Poem backroad leafmold stonewall chipmunk Underbrush grapevine woodchuck shadblow Woodsmoke cowbarn honeysuckle woodpile Sawhorse bucksaw outhouse wellsweep Backdoor flagstone bulkhead buttermilk Candlestick ragrug firedog brownbread Hilltop outcrop cowbell buttercup Whetstone thunderstorm pitchfork steeplebush Gristmill millstone cornmeal waterwheel Watercress buckwheat firefly jewelweed Gravestone groundpine windbreak bedrock Weathercock snowfall starlight cockcrow...
33. For Anne Gregory ‘Never shall a young man, Thrown into despair By those great honey-coloured Ramparts at your ear, Love you for yourself alone And not your yellow hair.’ ‘But I can get a hair-dye And set such colour there, Brown, or black, or carrot, That young men in despair May love me for myself alone And not […]...
34. Here I Am drunk again at 3 a. m. at the end of my 2nd bottle Of wine, I have typed from a dozen to 15 pages of Poesy An old man Maddened for the flesh of young girls in this Dwindling twilight Liver gone Kidneys going Pancrea pooped Top-floor blood pressure While all the fear of the […]...
35. Sweet Briars of the Stairways We are happy all the time Even when we fight: Sweet briars of the stairways, Gay fairies of the grime; We, who are playing to-night. “Our feet are in the gutters, Our eyes are sore with dust, But still our eyes are bright. The wide street roars and mutters – We know it works because […]...
36. Imagining you'd come to say goodbye Imagining you’d come to say goodbye, I made a doll of raffia and string. I gave her thatch hair, and a broomstick skirt Of patchwork satin rags. Around each eye I stitched thick lashes. Such a touching thing She was! That even you could not debate – Impassive, undemanding and inert. Yes, surely she’d cause […]...
37. Gee, You're So Beautiful That It's Starting To Rain Oh, Marcia, I want your long blonde beauty To be taught in high school, So kids will learn that God Lives like music in the skin And sounds like a sunshine harpsicord. I want high school report cards To look like this: Playing with Gentle Glass Things A Computer Magic A Writing Letters to Those […]...
38. The Ballad of the Calliope By the far Samoan shore, Where the league-long rollers pour All the wash of the Pacific on the coral-guarded bay, Riding lightly at their ease, In the calm of tropic seas, The three great nations’ warships at their anchors proudly lay. Riding lightly, head to wind, With the coral reefs behind, Three German and three […]...
39. The Changeling ( From The Tent on the Beach ) FOR the fairest maid in Hampton They needed not to search, Who saw young Anna favor Come walking into church, Or bringing from the meadows, At set of harvest-day, The frolic of the blackbirds, The sweetness of the hay. Now the weariest of all mothers, The saddest two years’ bride, She scowls in the face […]...
40. Equinox I must keep from breaking into the story by force For if I do I will find myself with a war club in my hand And the smoke of grief staggering toward the sun, Your nation dead beside you. I keep walking away though it has been an eternity And from each drop of blood […]...