Pardon

Related poetry:

1. Sonnet 37 – Pardon, oh, pardon, that my soul should make Pardon, oh, pardon, that my soul should make, Of all that strong divineness which I know For thine and thee, an image only so Formed of the sand, and fit to shift and break. It is that distant years which did not take Thy sovranty, recoiling with a blow, Have forced my swimming brain to […]...
2. Old Pardon, the Son of Reprieve You never heard tell of the story? Well, now, I can hardly believe! Never heard of the honour and glory Of Pardon, the son of Reprieve? But maybe you’re only a Johnnie And don’t know a horse from a hoe? Well, well, don’t get angry, my sonny, But, really, a young un should know. They […]...
3. Dans le Restaurant LE garçon délabré qui n’a rien à faire Que de se gratter les doigts et se pencher sur mon épaule: “Dans mon pays il fera temps pluvieux, Du vent, du grand soleil, et de la pluie; C’est ce qu’on appelle le jour de lessive des gueux.” (Bavard, baveux, à la croupe arrondie, Je te prie, […]...
4. Cups of Coffee THE HAGGARD woman with a hacking cough and a deathless love whispers of white Flowers… in your poem you pour like a cup of coffee, Gabriel. The slim girl whose voice was lost in the waves of flesh piled on her bones… and The woman who sold to many men and saw her breasts shrivel… […]...
5. New England Magazine Upon Bottle Miche the autre day While yet the nuit was early, Je met a homme whose barbe was grey, Whose cheveaux long and curly. “Je am a poete, sir,” dit he, “Je live where tres grande want teems- I’m faim, sir. Sil vous plait give me Un franc or cinquatite centimes.” I donne him […]...
6. Good-By Now or Pardon My Gauntlet Bring down the moon for genteel Janet; She’s too refined for this gross planet. She wears garments and you wear clothes, You buy stockings, she purchases hose. She say That is correct, and you say Yes, And she disrobes and you undress. Confronted by a mouse or moose, You turn green, she turns chartroose. Her […]...
7. Mélange Adultère de Tout EN Amerique, professeur; En Angleterre, journaliste; C’est à grands pas et en sueur Que vous suivrez à peine ma piste. En Yorkshire, conférencier; A Londres, un peu banquier, Vous me paierez bein la tête. C’est à Paris que je me coiffe Casque noir de jemenfoutiste. En Allemagne, philosophe Surexcité par Emporheben Au grand air de […]...
8. Une Charogne Rappelez-vous l’objet que nous vîmes, mon âme, Ce beau matin d’été si doux : Au détour d’un sentier une charogne infame Sur un lit semé de cailloux, Les jambes en l’air, comme une femme lubrique, Brûlante et suant les poisons, Ouvrait d’une façon nonchalante et cynique Son ventre plein d’exhalaisons. Le soleil rayonnait sur cette […]...
9. Introduction To Poetry I ask them to take a poem And hold it up to the light Like a color slide Or press an ear against its hive. I say drop a mouse into a poem And watch him probe his way out, Or walk inside the poem’s room And feel the walls for a light switch. I […]...
10. Poem This poem is not addressed to you. You may come into it briefly, But no one will find you here, no one. You will have changed before the poem will. Even while you sit there, unmovable, You have begun to vanish. And it does no matter. The poem will go on without you. It has […]...
11. 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. […]...
12. Ars Poetica A poem should be palpable and mute As a globed fruit, Dumb As old medallions to the thumb, Silent as the sleeve-worn stone Of casement ledges where the moss has grown A poem should be wordless As the flight of birds. * A poem should be motionless in time As the moon climbs, Leaving, as […]...
13. Visage volè l'oiseau Poem by Anne-Marie Derése Je ne sais qui tu caches Sous ton visage inventè, Ton visage volè l’oiseau, Emprisonnè de cendre rouge. Je vais t’aimer comme on meurt. Je vais te garder Pour les annèes venir. Tu seras si apprivoisè, Si incroyable, Mon ètrange animal, Avec tes lévres ouverte Sur un sourire perdu. Je boirai […]...
14. The New Poetry Handbook 1 If a man understands a poem, he shall have troubles. 2 If a man lives with a poem, he shall die lonely. 3 If a man lives with two poems, he shall be unfaithful to one. 4 If a man conceives of a poem, he shall have one less child. 5 If a man […]...
15. The Poem Cat Sometimes the poem Doesn’t want to come; It hides from the poet Like a playful cat Who has run Under the house & lurks among slugs, Roots, spiders’ eyes, Ledge so long out of the sun That it is dank With the breath of the Troll King. Sometimes the poem Darts away Like a coy […]...
16. Notice What This Poem Is Not Doing The light along the hills in the morning Comes down slowly, naming the trees White, then coasting the ground for stones to nominate. Notice what this poem is not doing. A house, a house, a barn, the old Quarry, where the river shrugs How much of this place is yours? Notice what this poem is […]...
17. Parlez-Vous Francais? Caesar, the amplifier voice, announces Crime and reparation. In the barber shop Recumbent men attend, while absently The barber doffs the naked face with cream. Caesar proposes, Caesar promises Pride, justice, and the sun Brilliant and strong on everyone, Speeding one hundred miles an hour across the land: Caesar declares the will. The barber firmly […]...
18. Dream Song 108: Sixteen below. Our care like stranded hulls Sixteen below. Our care like stranded hulls Litter all day our little Avenues. It was 28 below. No one goes anywhere. Fabulous calls To duty clank. Icy dungeons, though, Have much to mention to you. At Harvard & Yale must Pussy-cat be heard In the dead of winter when we must be sad And feel […]...
19. Poem For People That Are Understandably Too Busy To Read Poetry Relax. This won’t last long. Or if it does, or if the lines Make you sleepy or bored, Give in to sleep, turn on The T. V., deal the cards. This poem is built to withstand Such things. Its feelings Cannot be hurt. They exist Somewhere in the poet, And I am far away. Pick […]...
20. Obligation Hold your apron wide That I may pour my gifts into it, So that scarcely shall your two arms hinder them From falling to the ground. I would pour them upon you And cover you, For greatly do I feel this need Of giving you something, Even these poor things. Dearest of my Heart!...
21. Modern Love XV: I Think She Sleeps I think she sleeps: it must be sleep, when low Hangs that abandoned arm toward the floor; The face turned with it. Now make fast the door. Sleep on: it is your husband, not your foe. The Poet’s black stage-lion of wronged love, Frights not our modern dames: well if he did! Now will I […]...
22. Larry Levis My poem would eat nothing. I tried giving it water But it said no, Worrying me. Day after day, I held it up to the llight, Turning it over, But it only pressed its lips More tightly together. It grew sullen, like a toad Through with being teased. I offered it money, My clothes, my […]...
23. Prologue 1/ The taste of a poem Is in the relishing Sweet, sour or bitter Cold, lukewarm or hot The test of a poem Is in the nourishing Undying, fleeting or naught Its effect in the heart 2/ Here are the lines That got stuck in the jam On their way to your heart Possibly the […]...
24. Poetry And Religion Religions are poems. They concert Our daylight and dreaming mind, our Emotions, instinct, breath and native gesture Into the only whole thinking: poetry. Nothing’s said till it’s dreamed out in words And nothing’s true that figures in words only. A poem, compared with an arrayed religion, May be like a soldier’s one short marriage night […]...
25. 459. Sonnet on the Death of Robert Riddell NO more, ye warblers of the wood! no more; Nor pour your descant grating on my soul; Thou young-eyed Spring! gay in thy verdant stole, More welcome were to me grim Winter’s wildest roar. How can ye charm, ye flowers, with all your dyes? Ye blow upon the sod that wraps my friend! How can […]...
26. To Make A Dadist Poem Take a newspaper. Take some scissors. Choose from this paper an article the length you want to make your poem. Cut out the article. Next carefully cut out each of the words that make up this article and put them all in a bag. Shake gently. Next take out each cutting one after the other. […]...
27. Look Down, Fair Moon LOOK down, fair moon, and bathe this scene; Pour softly down night’s nimbus floods, on faces ghastly, swollen, purple; On the dead, on their backs, with their arms toss’d wide, Pour down your unstinted nimbus, sacred moon....
28. Gangrene Vous êtes sorti sain et sauf des basses Calomnies, vous avey conquis les coeurs. Zola, J’accuse One was kicked in the stomach Until he vomited, then made to put back Into his mouth what they had Brought forth; when he tried to drown in his own stew He was recovered. “You are Worse than a […]...
29. Dream Song 19: Here, whence Here, whence All have departed orwill do, here airless, where That witchy ball Wanted, fought toward, dreamed of, all a green living Drops limply into one’s hands Without pleasure or interest Figurez-vous, a time swarms when the word ‘happy’ sheds its whole meaning, like to come and Like for memory too That morning arrived to […]...
30. Saddest Poem I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. Write, for instance: “The night is full of stars, And the stars, blue, shiver in the distance.” The night wind whirls in the sky and sings. I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too. On nights […]...
31. Inspiration How often have I started out With no thought in my noodle, And wandered here and there about, Where fancy bade me toddle; Till feeling faunlike in my glee I’ve voiced some gay distiches, Returning joyfully to tea, A poem in my britches. A-squatting on a thymy slope With vast of sky about me, I’ve […]...
32. Le Verbe Кtre Je connais le dйsespoir dans ses grandes lignes. Le dйsespoir n’a pas d’ailes, il ne Se tient pas nйcessairement а une table desservie sur une terrasse, le soir, au bord de La mer. C’est le dйsespoir et ce n’est pas le retour d’une quantitй de petits faits Comme des graines qui quittent а la nuit […]...
33. Your Poem My poem may be yours indeed In melody and tone, If in its rhythm you can read A music of your own; If in its pale woof you can weave Your lovelier design, ‘Twill make my lyric, I believe, More yours than mine. I’m but a prompter at the best; Crude cues are all I […]...
34. You've given me a weapon Poem by Anne-Marie Derése, translated by Judith Skillman. You’ve given me a weapon. You’ve flung your words Into the human herd Like stones. The wounds were Good to lick. You have woken the tiger. You’ve given as one takes....
35. Responsibilities – Introduction Pardon, old fathers, if you still remain Somewhere in ear-shot for the story’s end, Old Dublin merchant “free of the ten and four” Or trading out of Galway into Spain; Old country scholar, Robert Emmet’s friend, A hundred-year-old memory to the poor; Merchant and scholar who have left me blood That has not passed through […]...
36. Dead Boy The little cousin is dead, by foul subtraction, A green bough from Virginia’s aged tree, And none of the county kin like the transaction, Nor some of the world of outer dark, like me. A boy not beautiful, nor good, nor clever, A black cloud full of storms too hot for keeping, A sword beneath […]...
37. Welsh experience called out by the sun This easter saturday morning I’m sitting on a bank In pistyllgwyn (house of the sacred spring) Against a tall oak (close to a daffodil-clump) Overlooking the road Between brechfa and abergorlech On the west side of the valley Of the afon cothi Reading a poem by taliesin From the sixth […]...
38. Madmen They say you can jinx a poem If you talk about it before it is done. If you let it out too early, they warn, Your poem will fly away, And this time they are absolutely right. Take the night I mentioned to you I wanted to write about the madmen, As the newspapers so […]...
39. Forgive Me Poem by Anne-Marie Derése, translated by Judith Skillman. Forgive me if I have laughed In your chapels, Forgive me if I have slammed The hospital door, Forgive me for the noise, For life, For the love to which I have no right. Forgive me for not resembling you....
40. Distress Coils Poem by Anne-Marie Derése, translated by Judith Skillman. The waiting volcano inside us Gnaws, digs, trembles, Weighs its chances. Distress coils up, Shrinks silent like a sick beast. We are unrecognizable, Unique In the certainty of our ferocity....