Susana Soca

Related poetry:

1. The Other Tiger A tiger comes to mind. The twilight here Exalts the vast and busy Library And seems to set the bookshelves back in gloom; Innocent, ruthless, bloodstained, sleek It wanders through its forest and its day Printing a track along the muddy banks Of sluggish streams whose names it does not know (In its world there […]...
2. The Drunkard from St. Ambrose He fears the tiger standing in his way. The tiger takes its time, it smiles and growls. Like moons, the two blank eyes tug at his bowels. “God help me now,” is all that he can say. “God help me now, how close I’ve come to God. To love and to be […]...
3. Manufactured Gods THEY put up big wooden gods. Then they burned the big wooden gods And put up brass gods and Changing their minds suddenly Knocked down the brass gods and put up A doughface god with gold earrings. The poor mutts, the pathetic slant heads, They didn’t know a little tin god Is as good as […]...
4. Dream Song 32: And where, friend Quo, lay you hiding And where, friend Quo, lay you hiding Across malignant half my years or so? One evil faery It was workt night, with amoroso pleasing Menace, the panes shake Where Lie-by-the-fire is waiting for his cream. A tiger by a torrent in rain, wind, Narrows fiend’s eyes for grief In an old ink-on-silk, Reminding me of […]...
5. Sonnet 103: Alack, what poverty my Muse brings forth Alack, what poverty my Muse brings forth, That having such a scope to show her pride, The argument all bare is of more worth Than when it hath my added praise beside. O, blame me not if I no more can write! Look in your glass, and there appears a face That overgoes my blunt […]...
6. The Lion and the Lamb I saw a Tiger’s golden flank, I saw what food he ate, By a desert spring he drank; The Tiger’s name was Hate. Then I saw a placid Lamb Lying fast asleep; Like a river from its dam Flashed the Tiger’s leap. I saw a lion tawny-red, Terrible and brave; The Tiger’s leap overhead Broke […]...
7. The King of Yellow Butterflies (A Poem Game.) The King of Yellow Butterflies, The King of Yellow Butterflies, The King of Yellow Butterflies, Now orders forth his men. He says “The time is almost here When violets bloom again.” Adown the road the fickle rout Goes flashing proud and bold, A down the road the fickle rout Goes flashing proud […]...
8. The Triumph Of Achilles In the story of Patroclus No one survives, not even Achilles Who was nearly a god. Patroclus resembled him; they wore The same armor. Always in these friendships One serves the other, one is less than the other: The hierarchy Is always apparant, though the legends Cannot be trusted Their source is the survivor, The […]...
9. Striving Striving is life, yet life is striving; I fight to live, yet live to fight; The vital urge is in my driving, Yet I must drive with all my might: Each day a battle, and the fray Stoutly renewed the coming day. A am myself – yet when I strive I build a self that’s […]...
10. Rhyme Builder I envy not those gay galoots Who count on dying in their boots; For that, to tell the sober truth Sould be the privilege of youth; But aged bones are better sped To heaven from a downy bed. So prop me up with pillows two, And serve me with the barley brew; And put a […]...
11. The Tiger The tiger, on the other hand, Is kittenish and mild, And makes a pretty playfellow For any little child. And mothers of large families (Who claim to common sense) Will find a tiger well repays The trouble and expense....
12. At a Window Give me hunger, O you gods that sit and give The world its orders. Give me hunger, pain and want, Shut me out with shame and failure From your doors of gold and fame, Give me your shabbiest, weariest hunger! But leave me a little love, A voice to speak to me in the day […]...
13. Your tiger (in china it is symbolic Of darkness and the new moon) In your night’s hollow The tiger stalks Black grasses have licked It into nothingness Hooked by moon I hover on your hollow’s lip I feel the smell of fire The leap of a bright cat-fur My eye is dumb Asking to be devoured I […]...
14. The Burning-Glass A SHAFT of fire that falls like dew, And melts and maddens all my blood, From out thy spirit flashes through The burning-glass of womanhood. Only so far; here must I stay: Nearer I miss the light, the fire; I must endure the torturing ray, And with all beauty, all desire. Ah, time long must […]...
15. Elegy Upon Tiger Her dead lady’s joy and comfort, Who departed this life The last day of March, 1727: To the great joy of Bryan That his antagonist is gone. And is poor Tiger laid at last so low? O day of sorrow! – Day of dismal woe! Bloodhounds, or spaniels, lap-dogs, ’tis all one, When Death once […]...
16. Westgate-On-Sea Hark, I hear the bells of Westgate, I will tell you what they sigh, Where those minarets and steeples Prick the open Thanet sky. Happy bells of eighteen-ninety, Bursting from your freestone tower! Recalling laurel, shrubs and privet, Red geraniums in flower. Feet that scamper on the asphalt Through the Borough Council grass, Till they […]...
17. Dithyramb Believe me, together The bright gods come ever, Still as of old; Scarce see I Bacchus, the giver of joy, Than comes up fair Eros, the laugh-loving boy, And Phoebus, the stately, behold! They come near and nearer, The heavenly ones all The gods with their presence Fill earth as their hall! Say, how shall […]...
18. St. Senanus and the Lady St. Senanus “On! haste, and leave this sacred isle, Unholy bark, ere morning smile; For on thy deck, though dark it be, A female form I see; And I have sworn this sainted sod Shall ne’er by woman’s feet by trod!” The Lady “Oh! Father, send not hence my bark Through wintry winds and billows […]...
19. Jack London and O. Henry BOTH were jailbirds; no speechmakers at all; speaking best with one foot on a brass rail; a beer glass in the left hand and the right hand employed for gestures. And both were lights snuffed out… no warning… no lingering: Who knew the hearts of these boozefighters?...
20. The Moods Time drops in decay, Like a candle burnt out, And the mountains and woods Have their day, have their day; What one in the rout Of the fire-born moods Has fallen away?...
21. Social Note Lady, lady, should you meet One whose ways are all discreet, One who murmurs that his wife Is the lodestar of his life, One who keeps assuring you That he never was untrue, Never loved another one. . . Lady, lady, better run!...
22. Franklin Hyde Who caroused in the Dirt and was corrected by His Uncle. His Uncle came upon Franklin Hyde Carousing in the Dirt. He Shook him hard from Side to Side And Hit him till it Hurt, Exclaiming, with a Final Thud, “Take that! Abandoned boy! For Playing with Disgusting Mud As though it were a Toy!” […]...
23. All or Nothing All or Nothing The final race. the final decision All disgrace or fortune all Either I fall or I stand tall; All or Nothing No compromises this time No catholic design Either I win or I lose; And I, don’t get to choose. All or Nothing The final fight All hells lose in this frenzied […]...
24. Clemenceau His frown brought terror to his foes, But now in twilight of his days The pure perfection of a rose Can kindle rapture in his gaze. Where once he swung the sword of wrath And peoples trembled at his word, With hoe he trims a pansied path And listens to a bird. His large of […]...
25. Departure While the far farewell music thins and fails, And the broad bottoms rip the bearing brine – All smalling slowly to the gray sea line – And each significant red smoke-shaft pales, Keen sense of severance everywhere prevails, Which shapes the late long tramp of mounting men To seeming words that ask and ask again: […]...
26. Delilah cIn the midnight of darkness and terror, When I would grope nearer to God, With my back to a record of error And the highway of sin I have trod, There comes to me shapes I would banish – The shapes of the deeds I have done; And I pray and I plead till they […]...
27. Glass Words of a poem should be glass But glass so simple-subtle its shape Is nothing but the shape of what it holds. A glass spun for itself is empty, Brittle, at best Venetian trinket. Embossed glass hides the poem of its absence. Words should be looked through, should be windows. The best word were invisible. […]...
28. Soledad (And I, I am no longer of that world) Naked, he lies in the blinded room Chainsmoking, cradled by drugs, by jazz As never by any lover’s cradling flesh. Miles Davis coolly blows for him: O pena negra, sensual Flamenco blues; The red clay foxfire voice of Lady Day (lady of the pure black magnolias) […]...
29. Sonnet XVI: Delusive Hope Delusive Hope! more transient than the ray That leads pale twilight to her dusky bed, O’er woodland glen, or breezy mountain’s head, Ling’ring to catch the parting sigh of day. Hence with thy visionary charms, away! Nor o’er my path the flow’rs of fancy spread; Thy airy dreams on peaceful pillows shed, And weave for […]...
30. The Vampire A fool there was and he mad his prayer (Even as you and I!) To a rag and a bone and a hank of hair (We called her the woman who did not care), But the fool he called her his lady fair (Even as you and I!) Oh the years we waste and the […]...
31. In January Only one cell in the frozen hive of night Is lit, or so it seems to us: This Vietnamese café, with its oily light, Its odors whose colorful shapes are like flowers. Laughter and talking, the tick of chopsticks. Beyond the glass, the wintry city Creaks like an ancient wooden bridge. A great wind rushes […]...
32. Glimmer LET down your braids of hair, lady. Cross your legs and sit before the looking-glass And gaze long on lines under your eyes. Life writes; men dance. And you know how men pay women....
33. Dream Song 5: Henry sats in de bar & was odd Henry sats in de bar & was odd, Off in the glass from the glass, At odds wif de world & its god, His wife is a complete nothing, St Stephen Getting even. Henry sats in de plane & was gay. Careful Henry nothing said aloud But where a Virgin out of cloud To her […]...
34. Ant Hill Black ants have made a musty mound My purple pine tree under, And I am often to be found, Regarding it with wonder. Yet as I watch, somehow it;s odd, Above their busy striving I feel like an ironic god Surveying human striving. Then one day came my serving maid, And just in time I […]...
35. 159. Song-My Lord a-Hunting he is gane Chorus.-MY lady’s gown, there’s gairs upon’t, And gowden flowers sae rare upon’t; But Jenny’s jimps and jirkinet, My lord thinks meikle mair upon’t. My lord a-hunting he is gone, But hounds or hawks wi’ him are nane; By Colin’s cottage lies his game, If Colin’s Jenny be at hame. My lady’s gown, &c. My lady’s […]...
36. Now Bare To The Beholder's Eye NOW bare to the beholder’s eye Your late denuded bindings lie, Subsiding slowly where they fell, A disinvested citadel; The obdurate corset, Cupid’s foe, The Dutchman’s breeches frilled below. Those that the lover notes to note, And white and crackling petticoat. From these, that on the ground repose, Their lady lately re-arose; And laying by […]...
37. Psalm 95 A Psalm before prayer. Sing to the Lord Jehovah’s name, And in his strength rejoice; When his salvation is our theme, Exalted be our voice. With thanks approach his awful sight, And psalms of honor sing; The Lord’s a God of boundless might, The whole creation’s King. Let princes hear, let angels know, How mean […]...
38. The Cave Of The Unborn I rose at night and visited The Cave of the Unborn, And crowding shapes surrounded me For tidings of the life to be, Who long had prayed the silent Head To speed their advent morn. Their eyes were lit with artless trust; Hope thrilled their every tone: “A place the loveliest, is it not? A […]...
39. Our Prayer of Thanks For the gladness here where the sun is shining at Evening on the weeds at the river, Our prayer of thanks. For the laughter of children who tumble barefooted and Bareheaded in the summer grass, Our prayer of thanks. For the sunset and the stars, the women and the white Arms that hold us, Our […]...
40. Sonnet XL: My Heart the Anvil My heart the anvil where my thoughts do beat; My words the hammers fashioning my desire; My breast the forge including all the heat; Love is the fuel which maintains the fire; My sighs the bellows which the flame increaseth, Filling mine ears with noise and nightly groaning; Toiling with pain, my labor never ceaseth, […]...