May 24, 1980

Related poetry:

1. Exiles Her brown falcon perches above the sink As steaming water forks over my hands. Below the wrists they shrivel and turn pink. I am in exile in my own land. Her half-grown cats scuffle across the floor Trailing a slime of blood from where they fed. I lock the door. They claw under the door. […]...
2. Dream Song 9: Deprived of his enemy, shrugged to a standstill Deprived of his enemy, shrugged to a standstill Horrible Henry, foaming. Fan their way Toward him who will In the high wood: the officers, their rest, With p. a. echoing: his girl comes, say, Conned in to test If he’s still human, see, Therefore she get on the Sheriff’s mike & howl ‘Come down, come […]...
3. These are the Signs to Nature's Inns These are the Signs to Nature’s Inns Her invitation broad To Whosoever famishing To taste her mystic Bread These are the rites of Nature’s House The Hospitality That opens with an equal width To Beggar and to Bee For Sureties of her staunch Estate Her undecaying Cheer The Purple in the East is set And […]...
4. From: A King Of Kings, A King Among The Kings Come, let us rejoice in James Joyce, in the greatness of this poet, king, and king of poets For he is our poor dead king, he is the monarch and Caesar of English, he is the veritable King of the King’s English The English of the life of the city, and the English of music; […]...
5. LAMENT How I loathe this land of my exile, Concrete upon concrete, Steel upon steel, Glass upon glass In massed battalions And no way back. My mind moves to a far-off place To a hill-top where the wind is my succour, Its blow and howl and rage Over the springing turf and heather Calms as the […]...
6. Daily Trials by a Sensitive Man Oh, there are times When all this fret and tumult that we hear Do seem more stale than to the sexton’s ear His own dull chimes. Ding dong! ding dong! The world is in a simmer like a sea Over a pent volcano, woe is me All the day long! From crib to shroud! Nurse […]...
7. Music When music sounds, gone is the earth I know, And all her lovely things even lovelier grow; Her flowers in vision flame, her forest trees Lift burdened branches, stilled with ecstasies. When music sounds, out of the water rise Naiads whose beauty dims my waking eyes, Rapt in strange dreams burns each enchanted face, With […]...
8. Success I think if you had loved me when I wanted; If I’d looked up one day, and seen your eyes, And found my wild sick blasphemous prayer granted, And your brown face, that’s full of pity and wise, Flushed suddenly; the white godhead in new fear Intolerably so struggling, and so shamed; Most holy and […]...
9. To Be Blind Is it sounds converging, Sounds nearing, Infringement, impingement, Impact, contact With surfaces of the sounds Or surfaces without the sounds: Diagrams, skeletal, strange? Is it winds curling round invisible corners? Polyphony of perfumes? Antennae discovering an axis, erecting the architecture of a world? Is it orchestration of the finger-tips, graph of a fugue: Scaffold for […]...
10. Church And State Here is fresh matter, poet, Matter for old age meet; Might of the Church and the State, Their mobs put under their feet. O but heart’s wine shall run pure, Mind’s bread grow sweet. That were a cowardly song, Wander in dreams no more; What if the Church and the State Are the mob that […]...
11. No, Not More Welcome No, not more welcome the fairy numbers Of music fall on the sleeper’s ear, When half awaking from fearful slumbers, He thinks the full quire of heaven is near Than came that voice, when, all forsaken, This heart long had sleeping lain, Nor thought its cold pulse would ever waken To such benign blessed sounds […]...
12. The Smoking Frog Three men I saw beside a bar, Regarding o’er their bottle, A frog who smoked a rank cigar They’d jammed within its throttle. A Pasha frog it must have been So big it as and bloated; And from its lips the nicotine In graceful festoon floated. And while the trio jeered and joked, As if […]...
13. Crazy Jane Talks With The Bishop I met the Bishop on the road And much said he and I. ‘Those breasts are flat and fallen now, Those veins must soon be dry; Live in a heavenly mansion, Not in some foul sty.’ ‘Fair and foul are near of kin, And fair needs foul,’ I cried. ‘My friends are gone, but that’s […]...
14. AT VERONA How steep the stairs within King’s houses are For exile-wearied feet as mine to tread, And O how salt and bitter is the bread Which falls from this Hound’s table, – better far That I had died in the red ways of war, Or that the gate of Florence bare my head, Than to live […]...
15. The Parallel Yes, sad one of Sion, if closely resembling, In shame and in sorrow, thy wither’d-up heart If drinking deep, deep, of the same “cup of trembling” Could make us thy children, our parent thou art. Like thee doth our nation lie conquer’d and broken, And fall’n from her head is the once royal crown; In […]...
16. A Noon Interval A deep, delicious hush in earth and sky A gracious lull since, from its wakening, The morn has been a feverish, restless thing In which the pulse of Summer ran too high And riotous, as though its heart went nigh To bursting with delights past uttering: Now as an o’erjoyed child may cease to sing […]...
17. About The Nightingale From a letter from STC to Wordsworth after writing The Nightingale: In stale blank verse a subject stale I send per post my Nightingale; And like an honest bard, dear Wordsworth, You’ll tell me what you think, my Bird’s worth. My own opinion’s briefly this His bill he opens not amiss; And when he has […]...
18. Petropolis From a fearful height, a wandering light, But does a star glitter like this, crying? Transparent star, wandering light Your brother, Petropolis, is dying. From a fearful height, earthly dreams are alight, And a green star is crying. Oh star, if you are the brother of water and light, Your brother, Petropolis, is dying. A […]...
19. House Of Silence The winter sun, golden and tired, Settles on the irregular army Of bottles. Outside the trucks Jostle toward the open road, Outside it’s Saturday afternoon, And young women in black pass by Arm in arm. This bar Is the house of silence, and we drink To silence without raising our voices In the old way. […]...
20. Second Best Here in the dark, O heart; Alone with the enduring Earth, and Night, And Silence, and the warm strange smell of clover; Clear-visioned, though it break you; far apart From the dead best, the dear and old delight; Throw down your dreams of immortality, O faithful, O foolish lover! Here’s peace for you, and surety; […]...
21. Neighbours My neighbour has a field of wheat And I a rood of vine; And he will give me bread to eat, And I will give him wine. And so we are a jolly pair, Contentedly unwed, Singing with supper as we share Red wine and crusty bread. Now venison is mighty meat And so is […]...
22. 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...
23. Harold Arnett I leaned against the mantel, sick, sick, Thinking of my failure, looking into the abysm, Weak from the noon-day heat. A church bell sounded mournfully far away, I heard the cry of a baby, And the coughing of John Yarnell, Bed-ridden, feverish, feverish, dying, Then the violent voice of my wife: “Watch out, the potatoes […]...
24. 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...
25. Our Daily Bread “Give me my daily bread. It seems so odd, When all is done and said, This plea to God. To pray for cake might be The thing to do; But bread, it seems to me, Is just our due. “Give me my daily toil,” I ought to say – (If from life’s cursed coil I’d […]...
26. How many schemes may die How many schemes may die In one short Afternoon Entirely unknown To those they most concern The man that was not lost Because by accident He varied by a Ribbon’s width From his accustomed route The Love that would not try Because beside the Door It must be competitions Some unsuspecting Horse was tied Surveying […]...
27. The Second Voyage We’ve sent our little Cupids all ashore They were frightened, they were tired, they were cold: Our sails of silk and purple go to store, And we’ve cut away our mast of beaten gold (Foul weather!) Oh ’tis hemp and singing pine for to stand against the brine, But Love he is our master as […]...
28. Flying Inside Your Own Body Your lungs fill & spread themselves, Wings of pink blood, and your bones Empty themselves and become hollow. When you breathe in you’ll lift like a balloon And your heart is light too & huge, Beating with pure joy, pure helium. The sun’s white winds blow through you, There’s nothing above you, You see the […]...
29. THE COLOSSUS (Goya, an old man in exile, looks at his self-portrait) A bull’s neck, still much needed, Deserving exile or the guillotine, ‘Because you are an artist we forgave you’, Thus his royal highness gave thanks, My fingers itching for brush and canvas, Floury cheeks and rouge, legs a donkey would be ashamed of, A wife […]...
30. THE FIRST WALPURGIS-NIGHT A DRUID. SWEET smiles the May! The forest gay From frost and ice is freed; No snow is found, Glad songs resound Across the verdant mead. Upon the height The snow lies light, Yet thither now we go, There to extol our Father’s name, Whom we for ages know. Amid the smoke shall gleam the […]...
31. Voices Ideal and beloved voices Of those who are dead, or of those Who are lost to us like the dead. Sometimes they speak to us in our dreams; Sometimes in thought the mind hears them. And with their sound for a moment return Other sounds from the first poetry of our life Like distant music […]...
32. Sin (II) O that I could a sin once see! We paint the devil foul, yet he Hath some good in him, all agree. Sin is flat opposite to th’ Almighty, seeing It wants the good of virtue, and of being. But God more care of us hath had: If apparitions make us sad, By sight of […]...
33. Somewhere upon the general Earth Somewhere upon the general Earth Itself exist Today The Magic passive but extant That consecrated me Indifferent Seasons doubtless play Where I for right to be Would pay each Atom that I am But Immortality Reserving that but just to prove Another Date of Thee Oh God of Width, do not for us Curtail Eternity!...
34. In The Cool Of The Evening I thought I heard Him calling. Did you hear A sound, a little sound? My curious ear Is dinned with flying noises, and the tree Goes whisper, whisper, whisper silently Till all its whispers spread into the sound Of a dull roar. Lie closer to the ground, The shade is deep and He may pass […]...
35. No Man can compass a Despair No Man can compass a Despair As round a Goalless Road No faster than a Mile at once The Traveller proceed Unconscious of the Width Unconscious that the Sun Be setting on His progress So accurate the One At estimating Pain Whose own has just begun His ignorance the Angel That pilot Him along...
36. The Palm And The Pine From the German of Heine. In the far North stands a Pine-tree, lone, Upon a wintry height; It sleeps: around it snows have thrown A covering of white. It dreams forever of a Palm That, far i’ the Morning-land, Stands silent in a most sad calm Midst of the burning sand....
37. Women Women have no wilderness in them, They are provident instead, Content in the tight hot cell of their hearts To eat dusty bread. They do not see cattle cropping red winter grass, They do not hear Snow water going down under culverts Shallow and clear. They wait, when they should turn to journeys, They stiffen, […]...
38. Threes I WAS a boy when I heard three red words A thousand Frenchmen died in the streets For: Liberty, Equality, Fraternity—I asked Why men die for words. I was older; men with mustaches, sideburns, Lilacs, told me the high golden words are: Mother, Home, and Heaven—other older men with Face decorations said: God, Duty, Immortality […]...
39. Sleep Spaces In the night there are of course the seven wonders Of the world and the greatness tragedy and enchantment. Forests collide with legendary creatures hiding in thickets. There is you. In the night there are the walker’s footsteps the murderer’s The town policeman’s light from the street lamp and the ragman’s lantern There is you. […]...
40. Three Counsellors IT was the fairy of the place, Moving within a little light, Who touched with dim and shadowy grace The conflict at its fever height. It seemed to whisper “Quietness,” Then quietly itself was gone: Yet echoes of its mute caress Were with me as the years went on. It was the warrior within Who […]...