English poetry

Poems in English


There Are Not Many Kingdoms Left

I write the lips of the moon upon her shoulders. In a
Temple of silvery farawayness I guard her to rest.

For her bed I write a stillness over all the swans of the
World. With the morning breath of the snow leopard I
Cover her against any hurt.

Using the pen of rivers and mountaintops I store her
Pillow with singing.

Upon her hair I write the looking of the heavens at
Early morning.

Away from this kingdom, from this last undefiled
Place, I would keep our governments, our civilization, and
All other spirit-forsaken and corrupt institutions.

O cold beautiful blossoms of the moon moving upon
Her shoulders. . . the lips of the moon moving there. . .
Where the touch of any other lips would be a profanation.


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Poem There Are Not Many Kingdoms Left - Kenneth Patchen