Castile

Related poetry:

1. Alphonso Of Castile I Alphonso live and learn, Seeing nature go astern. Things deteriorate in kind, Lemons run to leaves and rind, Meagre crop of figs and limes, Shorter days and harder times. Flowering April cools and dies In the insufficient skies; Imps at high Midsummer blot Half the sun’s disk with a spot; ‘Twill not now avail […]...
2. TO HIS COY ONE SEEST thou yon smiling Orange? Upon the tree still hangs it; Already March bath vanish’d, And new-born flow’rs are shooting. I draw nigh to the tree then, And there I say: Oh Orange, Thou ripe and juicy Orange, Thou sweet and luscious Orange, I shake the tree, I shake it, Oh fall into my lap! […]...
3. Story A woman’s taking her late-afternoon walk On Chestnut where no sidewalk exists And houses with gravel driveways Sit back among the pines. Only the house With the vicious dog is close to the road. An electric fence keeps him in check. When she comes to that house, the woman Always crosses to the other side. […]...
4. Tampa Robins The robin laughed in the orange-tree: “Ho, windy North, a fig for thee: While breasts are red and wings are bold And green trees wave us globes of gold, Time’s scythe shall reap but bliss for me Sunlight, song, and the orange-tree. Burn, golden globes in leafy sky, My orange-planets: crimson I Will shine and […]...
5. Train Train. Distant Train. Praise the glorious distance of Train. Dogs bark, reply to the mournful echo of Train’s whistle. Train looks back, keeps moving. Train carries its boxcars of secrets further and further away (and even further still) from those who profess to love Train, but who do not run after him. Eyes brimmed with […]...
6. The Buried Train Tell me about the train that people say got buried By the avalanche was it snow? It was In Colorado, and no one saw it happen. There was smoke from the engine curling up Lightly through fir tops, and the engine sounds. There were all those people reading some From Thoreau, some from Henry Ward […]...
7. Prelude to an Evening Do not enforce the tired wolf Dragging his infected wound homeward To sit tonight with the warm children Naming the pretty kings of France. The images of the invaded mind Being as the monsters in the dreams Of your most brief enchanted headful, Suppose a miracle of confusion: That dreamed and undreamt become each other […]...
8. Study Of Loneliness A guardian of long-distance conduits in the desert? A one-man crew of a fortress in the sand? Whoever he was. At dawn he saw furrowed mountains The color of ashes, above the melting darkness, Saturated with violet, breaking into fluid rouge, Till they stood, immense, in the orange light. Day after day. And, before he […]...
9. Good and Bad Children Children, you are very little, And your bones are very brittle; If you would grow great and stately, You must try to walk sedately. You must still be bright and quiet, And content with simple diet; And remain, through all bewild’ring, Innocent and honest children. Happy hearts and happy faces, Happy play in grassy places […]...
10. A Wreath To The Fish Who is this fish, still wearing its wealth, Flat on my drainboard, dead asleep, Its suit of mail proof only against the stream? What is it to live in a stream, To dwell forever in a tunnel of cold, Never to leave your shining birthsuit, Never to spend your inheritance of thin coins? And who […]...
11. The Mercy The ship that took my mother to Ellis Island Eighty-three years ago was named “The Mercy.” She remembers trying to eat a banana Without first peeling it and seeing her first orange In the hands of a young Scot, a seaman Who gave her a bite and wiped her mouth for her With a red […]...
12. St. Valentine's Day The South is a dream of flowers With a jewel for sky and sea, Rose-crowns for the dancing hours, Gold fruits upon every tree; But cold from the North The wind blows forth That blows my love to me. The stars in the South are gold Like lamps between sky and sea; The flowers that […]...
13. Cows In Art Class good weather Is like Good women- It doesn’t always happen And when it does It doesn’t Always last. Man is More stable: If he’s bad There’s more chance He’ll stay that way, Or if he’s good He might hang On, But a woman Is changed By Children Age Diet Conversation Sex The moon The absence […]...
14. Poetics You know the old story Ann Landers tells About the houseife in her basement doing the wash? She’s wearing her nightie, and she thinks, “Well, hell, I might’s well put this in as well,” and then Being dripped on by a leaky pipe puts on Her son’s football helmet; whereupon The meter reader happens to […]...
15. Bruise blue Frail as smoke, she drifts through the crowded train, bringing with her the cold ashes of poverty. Without a word, her bruise-blue eyes try to niggle each passenger to part with coins or a note. The sign pleads her story: Three children in foster care. Like promises of happier times, some passengers toss hard-edged confetti […]...
16. Homage To A Government Next year we are to bring all the soldiers home For lack of money, and it is all right. Places they guarded, or kept orderly, We want the money for ourselves at home Instead of working. And this is all right. It’s hard to say who wanted it to happen, But now it’s been decided […]...
17. Songs of the High Country Soria, in blue mountains, On the fields of violet, How often I’ve dreamed of you On the plain of flowers, Where the Guadalquiviŕ runs Past golden orange-trees To the sea....
18. The Gift “He gave her class. She gave him sex.” Katharine Hepburn on Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers He gave her money. She gave him head. He gave her tips on “aggressive growth” mutual funds. She gave him a red rose and a little statue of eros. He gave her Genesis 2 (21-23). She gave him Genesis […]...
19. Washington McNeely Rich, honored by my fellow citizens, The father of many children, born of a noble mother, All raised there In the great mansion-house, at the edge of town. Note the cedar tree on the lawn! I sent all the boys to Ann Arbor, all of the girls to Rockford, The while my life went on, […]...
20. At Great Pond At Great Pond The sun, rising, Scrapes his orange breast On the thick pines, And down tumble A few orange feathers into The dark water. On the far shore A white bird is standing Like a white candle – Or a man, in the distance, In the clasp of some meditation – While all around […]...
21. It came his turn to beg It came his turn to beg The begging for the life Is different from another Alms ‘Tis Penury in Chief I scanned his narrow realm I gave him leave to live Lest Gratitude revive the snake Though smuggled his reprieve...
22. Reveille In the brutal nights we used to dream Dense violent dreams, Dreamed with soul and body: To return; to eat; to tell the story. Until the dawn command Sounded brief, low ‘Wstawac’ And the heart cracked in the breast. Now we have found our homes again, Our bellies are full, We’re through telling the story. […]...
23. Glee The great storm is over Glee The great storm is over Four have recovered the Land Forty gone down together Into the boiling Sand Ring for the Scant Salvation Toll for the bonnie Souls Neighbor and friend and Bridegroom Spinning upon the Shoals How they will tell the Story When Winter shake the Door Till the Children urge But the […]...
24. Ninth Inning He woke up in New York City on Valentine’s Day, Speeding. The body in the booth next to his was still warm, Was gone. He had bought her a sweater, a box of chocolate Said her life wasn’t working he looked stricken she said You’re all bent out of shape, accusingly, and when he She […]...
25. The Lure Of Little Voices There’s a cry from out the loneliness oh, listen, Honey, listen! Do you hear it, do you fear it, you’re a-holding of me so? You’re a-sobbing in your sleep, dear, and your lashes, how they glisten Do you hear the Little Voices all a-begging me to go? All a-begging me to leave you. Day and […]...
26. Theme In Yellow I spot the hills With yellow balls in autumn. I light the prairie cornfields Orange and tawny gold clusters And I am called pumpkins. On the last of October When dusk is fallen Children join hands And circle round me Singing ghost songs And love to the harvest moon; I am a jack-o’-lantern With terrible […]...
27. The Tay Bridge Disaster Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silv’ry Tay! Alas! I am very sorry to say That ninety lives have been taken away On the last Sabbath day of 1879, Which will be remember’d for a very long time. ‘Twas about seven o’clock at night, And the wind it blew with all its might, And the rain […]...
28. Wisteria The first purple wisteria I recall from boyhood hung On a wire outside the windows Of the breakfast room next door At the home of Steve Pisaris. I loved his tall, skinny daughter, Or so I thought, and I would wait Beside the back door, prostrate, Begging to be taken in. Perhaps It was only […]...
29. Picture-Books in Winter Summer fading, winter comes Frosty mornings, tingling thumbs, Window robins, winter rooks, And the picture story-books. Water now is turned to stone Nurse and I can walk upon; Still we find the flowing brooks In the picture story-books. All the pretty things put by, Wait upon the children’s eye, Sheep and shepherds, trees and crooks, […]...
30. Sonnet On An Alpine Night My hand, a little raised, might press a star- Where I may look, the frosted peaks are spun, So shaped before Olympus was begun, Spanned each to each, now, by a silver bar. Thus to face Beauty have I traveled far, But now, as if around my heart were run Hard, lacing fingers, so I […]...
31. Dream Song 26: The glories of the world struck me The glories of the world struck me, made me aria, once. Гўв‚”What happen then, Mr Bones? If be you cares to say. Гўв‚”Henry. Henry became interested in women’s bodies, His loins were & were the scene of stupendous achievement. Stupor. Knees, dear. Pray. All the knobs & softnesses of, my God, The ducking & trouble […]...
32. Here Here I am in the garden laughing An old woman with heavy breasts And a nicely mapped face How did this happen Well that’s who I wanted to be At last a woman In the old style sitting Stout thighs apart under A big skirt grandchild sliding On off my lap a pleasant Summer perspiration […]...
33. The Trusting Heart Oh, I’d been better dying, Oh, I was slow and sad; A fool I was, a-crying About a cruel lad! But there was one that found me, That wept to see me weep, And had his arm around me, And gave me words to keep. And I’d be better dying, And I am slow and […]...
34. Being Me! Wild are my ways, wilder than you think You will find me standing a little left of frame You will find me a little away from the meeting place I am that and much more, insignificant me. Yes I am the one with the faraway look Of sailors of vast dreamy oceans I look at […]...
35. Tell as a Marksman were forgotten Tell as a Marksman were forgotten Tell this Day endures Ruddy as that coeval Apple The Tradition bears Fresh as Mankind that humble story Though a statelier Tale Grown in the Repetition hoary Scarcely would prevail Tell had a son The ones that knew it Need not linger here Those who did not to Human […]...
36. The red man says hello the red man says hello The green tree says i’m here All grown-ups are sleeping Only the children hear Decorations are delighted Presents hug the floor The room in its festive hat Hides behind the door Through the glittering day Two worlds split the one Grown-ups lose their tempers Children have the fun The red […]...
37. Bedtime Story The moon lies on the river Like a drop of oil. The children come to the banks to be healed Of their wounds and bruises. The fathers who gave them their wounds and bruises Come to be healed of their rage. The mothers grow lovely; their faces soften, The birds in their throats awake. They […]...
38. The Only Son She dropped the bar, she shot the bolt, she fed the fire anew For she heard a whimper under the sill and a great grey paw came through. The fresh flame comforted the hut and shone on the roof-beam, And the Only Son lay down again and dreamed that he dreamed a dream. The last […]...
39. Why We Tell Stories For Linda Foster I Because we used to have leaves And on damp days Our muscles feel a tug, Painful now, from when roots Pulled us into the ground And because our children believe They can fly, an instinct retained From when the bones in our arms Were shaped like zithers and broke Neatly under […]...
40. He Tells Of A Valley Full Of Lovers I dreamed that I stood in a valley, and amid sighs, For happy lovers passed two by two where I stood; And I dreamed my lost love came stealthily out of the wood With her cloud-pale eyelids falling on dream-dimmed eyes: I cried in my dream, O women, bid the young men lay Their heads […]...