Death in the Family

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1. Julie Claire Oh Julie Claire was very fair, Yet generous as well, And many a lad of metal had A saucy tale to tell Of sultry squeeze beneath the trees Or hugging in the hay. . . Of love her share had Julie Claire When life was lush and gay. And then the village wealth to pillage […]...
2. All In a Family Way My banks are all furnished with rags, So thick, even Freddy can’t thin ’em; I’ve torn up my old money-bags, Having little or nought to put in ’em. My tradesman are smashing by dozens, But this is all nothing, they say; For bankrupts, since Adam, are cousins, So, it’s all in the family way. My […]...
3. Opening the Geode When the molten earth seethed In its whirling cauldron Nobody watched the pot From a tall wooden stool Set out in windy space Beyond flame’s reach; And when the spattering mush Steamed, gurgled, boiled over, Mounded up in smoking hills No giant mixing spoon Smoothed out the lumps and bubbles As the pottage cooled to […]...
4. Touched my family Even from afar came shouts of recognition Joyful voices rang across the years disdained and Faces of our childhood unforgot fit instantly familiar names; Voices still the same despite the extra grey, the extra lines, Like sacred family metaphors not blurred with passing time. Uncles greeted cousins, nieces hailed their aunts in private spaces Kept […]...
5. 16-bit Intel 8088 chip with an Apple Macintosh You can’t run Radio Shack programs In its disc drive. Nor can a Commodore 64 Drive read a file You have created on an IBM Personal Computer. Both Kaypro and Osborne computers use The CP/M operating system But can’t read each other’s Handwriting For they format (write On) discs in different […]...
6. The Family The dark things of the wood Are coming from their caves, Flexing muscle. They browse the orchard, Nibble the sea of grasses Around our yellow rooms, Scarcely looking in To see what we are doing And if they still know us. We hear them, or think we do: The muzzle lapping moonlight, The tooth in […]...
7. The Family Hinemoa, Tui, Maina, All of them were born together; They are quite an extra special Set of babies wax and leather. Every day they took an airing; Mummy made them each a bonnet; Two were cherry, one was yellow With a bow of ribbon on it. Really, sometimes we would slap them, For if ever […]...
8. A Rhyme of Death’s Inn A rhyme of good Death’s inn! My love came to that door; And she had need of many things, The way had been so sore. My love she lifted up her head, “And is there room?” said she; “There was no room in Bethlehem’s inn For Christ who died for me.” But said the keeper […]...
9. The Rose Family – Song 1 O flower at my window Why blossom you so fair, With your green and purple cup Upturned to sun and air? ‘I bloom, blithesome Bessie, To cheer your childish heart; The world is full of labor, And this shall be my part.’ Whirl, busy wheel, faster, Spin, little thread, spin; The sun shines fair without, […]...
10. The Rose Family – Song II O lesson well and wisely taught Stay with me to the last, That all my life may better be For the trial that is past. O vanity, mislead no more! Sleep, like passions, long! Wake, happy heart, and dance again To the music of my song! O summer days, flit fast away, And bring the […]...
11. The Rose Family The rose is a rose, And was always a rose. But the theory now goes That the apple’s a rose, And the pear is, and so’s The plum, I suppose. The dear only know What will next prove a rose. You, of course, are a rose But were always a rose....
12. The Family Monkey We bought an electric monkey, experimenting rather Recklessly with funds carefully gathered since Grandfather’s time for the purchase of a steam monkey. We had either, by this time, the choice of an electric Or gas monkey. The steam monkey is no longer being made, said the monkey Merchant. But the family always planned on a […]...
13. Tortoise Family Connections On he goes, the little one, Bud of the universe, Pediment of life. Setting off somewhere, apparently. Whither away, brisk egg? His mother deposited him on the soil as if he were no more than droppings, And now he scuffles tinily past her as if she were an old rusty tin. A mere obstacle, He […]...
14. Whispers of Heavenly Death WHISPERS of heavenly death, murmur’d I hear; Labial gossip of night-sibilant chorals; Footsteps gently ascending-mystical breezes, wafted soft and low; Ripples of unseen rivers-tides of a current, flowing, forever flowing; (Or is it the plashing of tears? the measureless waters of human tears?) I see, just see, skyward, great cloud-masses; Mournfully, slowly they roll, silently […]...
15. On The Death Of Dr. Samuel Marshall THROUGH thickest glooms look back, immortal Shade, On that confusion which thy death has made: Or from Olympus’ height look down, and see A Town involv’d in grief bereft of thee. Thy Lucy sees thee mingle with the dead, And rends the graceful tresses from her head, Wild in her woe, with grief unknown opprest […]...
16. First Death In Nova Scotia In the cold, cold parlor My mother laid out Arthur Beneath the chromographs: Edward, Prince of Wales, With Princess Alexandra, And King George with Queen Mary. Below them on the table Stood a stuffed loon Shot and stuffed by Uncle Arthur, Arthur’s father. Since Uncle Arthur fired A bullet into him, He hadn’t said a […]...
17. The House Of Dust: Part 02: 10: Sudden Death ‘Number four-the girl who died on the table- The girl with golden hair-‘ The purpling body lies on the polished marble. We open the throat, and lay the thyroid bare. . . One, who held the ether-cone, remembers Her dark blue frightened eyes. He heard the sharp breath quiver, and saw her breast More hurriedly […]...
18. His Meditation Upon Death BE those few hours, which I have yet to spend, Blest with the meditation of my end; Though they be few in number, I’m content; If otherwise, I stand indifferent, Nor makes it matter, Nestor’s years to tell, If man lives long, and if he live not well. A multitude of days still heaped on […]...
19. THE DEATH OF ART “Reading well is one of the great pleasures that solitude can afford you.” -critic Harold Bloom, who first called slam poetry “the death of art.” I am not a poet. I want to be rich and buy things for my family. Besides, I am sort of popular and can honestly say I’ve had a great […]...
20. The chatter of a death-demon from a tree-top The chatter of a death-demon from a tree-top Blood blood and torn grass Had marked the rise of his agony This lone hunter. The grey-green woods impassive Had watched the threshing of his limbs. A canoe with flashing paddle, A girl with soft searching eyes, A call: “John!” . . . . . Come, arise, […]...
21. Go Down, Death Weep not, weep not, She is not dead; She’s resting in the bosom of Jesus. Heart-broken husband weep no more; Grief-stricken son weep no more; Left-lonesome daughter weep no more; She only just gone home. Day before yesterday morning, God was looking down from his great, high heaven, Looking down on all his children, And […]...
22. A Death-Bed 1918 This is the State above the Law. The State exists for the State alone.” [This is a gland at the back of the jaw, And an answering lump by the collar-bone.], Some die shouting in gas or fire; Some die silent, by shell and shot. Some die desperate, caught on the wire – Some […]...
23. Cacoethes Scribendi If all the trees in all the woods were men; And each and every blade of grass a pen; If every leaf on every shrub and tree Turned to a sheet of foolscap; every sea Were changed to ink, and all earth’s living tribes Had nothing else to do but act as scribes, And for […]...
24. The House Of Dust: Part 04: 02: Death: And A Derisive Chorus The door is shut. She leaves the curtained office, And down the grey-walled stairs comes trembling slowly Towards the dazzling street. Her withered hand clings tightly to the railing. The long stairs rise and fall beneath her feet. Here in the brilliant sun we jostle, waiting To tear her secret out. . . We laugh, […]...
25. The Beauty of Death XIV Part One – The Calling Let me sleep, for my soul is intoxicated with love and Let me rest, for my spirit has had its bounty of days and nights; Light the candles and burn the incense around my bed, and Scatter leaves of jasmine and roses over my body; Embalm my hair with frankincense […]...
26. Because I could not stop for Death Because I could not stop for Death He kindly stopped for me The Carriage held but just Ourselves And Immortality. We slowly drove, he knew no haste And I had put away My labor and my leisure too, For his civility. We passed the School, where Children strove At recess in the ring We passed […]...
27. Authorship You say that father write a lot of books, but what he write I don’t Understand. He was reading to you all the evening, but could you really Make out what he meant? What nice stores, mother, you can tell us! Why can’t father Write like that, I wonder? Did he never hear from his […]...
28. DEATH OF A POET for Wendy Oliver, who knew him I am the sick animal you dream you are caring for In the long avenues of night I cannot find a name For the sickness except the despair of a poet sensing his veins Silt up like the delta of a neglected river with none of the solace Sidney […]...
29. The Death-Bed He drowsed and was aware of silence heaped Round him, unshaken as the steadfast walls; Aqueous like floating rays of amber light, Soaring and quivering in the wings of sleep. Silence and safety; and his mortal shore Lipped by the inward, moonless waves of death. Someone was holding water to his mouth. He swallowed, unresisting; […]...
30. Lesson 1 At least I’ve learned this much: Life doesn’t have to be All poetry and roses. Life Can be bus rides, gritty sidewalks, Electric bills, dishwashing, Chapped lips, dull stubby pencils With the erasers chewed off, Cheap radios played too loud, The rank smell of stale coffee Yet still glow With the inner fire of an […]...
31. Outside Fargo, North Dakota Along the sprawled body of the derailed Great Northern freight car, I strike a match slowly and lift it slowly. No wind. Beyond town, three heavy white horses Wade all the way to their shoulders In a silo shadow. Suddenly the freight car lurches. The door slams back, a man with a flashlight Calls me […]...
32. A Poet's Death is His Life IV The dark wings of night enfolded the city upon which Nature had spread a pure white garment of snow; and men deserted the streets for their houses in search of warmth, while the north wind probed in contemplation of laying waste the gardens. There in the suburb stood an old hut heavily laden with snow […]...
33. THE DANCE OF DEATH CARRYING bouquet, and handkerchief, and gloves, Proud of her height as when she lived, she moves With all the careless and high-stepping grace, And the extravagant courtesan’s thin face. Was slimmer waist e’er in a ball-room wooed? Her floating robe, in royal amplitude, Falls in deep folds around a dry foot, shod With a bright […]...
34. Elegy On The Death Of A Young Man Mournful groans, as when a tempest lowers, Echo from the dreary house of woe; Death-notes rise from yonder minster’s towers! Bearing out a youth, they slowly go; Yes! a youth unripe yet for the bier, Gathered in the spring-time of his days, Thrilling yet with pulses strong and clear, With the flame that in his […]...
35. On The Death Of J. C. An Infant NO more the flow’ry scenes of pleasure rife, Nor charming prospects greet the mental eyes, No more with joy we view that lovely face Smiling, disportive, flush’d with ev’ry grace. The tear of sorrow flows from ev’ry eye, Groans answer groans, and sighs to sighs reply; What sudden pangs shot thro’ each aching heart, When, […]...
36. Death Of The Kapowsin Tavern I can’t ridge it back again from char. Not one board left. Only ash a cat explores And shattered glass smoked black and strung About from the explosion I believe In the reports. The white school up for sale For years, most homes abandoned to the rocks Of passing boys the fire, helped by wind […]...
37. The Death Of Marie Toro We’re taking Marie Toro to her home in Père-La-Chaise; We’re taking Marie Toro to her last resting-place. Behold! her hearse is hung with wreaths till everything is hid Except the blossoms heaping high upon her coffin lid. A week ago she roamed the street, a draggle and a slut, A by-word of the Boulevard and […]...
38. Unlyric Love Song It is time to give that-of-myself which I could not at first: To offer you now at last my least and my worst: Minor, absurd preserves, The shell’s end-curves, A document kept at the back of a drawer, A tin hidden under the floor, Recalcitrant prides and hesitations: To pile them carefully in a desparate […]...
39. The Death of Grandfather We waited commonly for sleep or even death. The instances were wearisome as ages. But suddenly the wind’s refreshing breath Touched through the window the Holy Bible’s pages: An old man goes there – who’s now all white-haired – With rapid steps and merry eyes, alone, He smiles to us, and often calls with hand, […]...
40. On the Death of the Honourable Mr. James Thynne Farewell, lov’d Youth! since ’twas the Will of Heaven So soon to take, what had so late been giv’n; And thus our Expectations to destroy, Raising a Grief, where we had form’d a Joy; Who once believ’d, it was the Fates Design In Him to double an Illustrious Line, And in a second Channel spread […]...