Stalk Me

Related poetry:

1. The Bean-Stalk Ho, Giant! This is I! I have built me a bean-stalk into your sky! La,-but it’s lovely, up so high! This is how I came,-I put Here my knee, there my foot, Up and up, from shoot to shoot- And the blessed bean-stalk thinning Like the mischief all the time, Till it took me rocking, […]...
2. Whats The Use Of A Title? They dont make it The beautiful die in flame – Sucide pills, rat poison, rope what – Ever… They rip their arms off, Throw themselves out of windows, They pull their eyes out of the sockets, Reject love Reject hate Reject, reject. They do’nt make it The beautiful can’t endure, They are butterflies They are […]...
3. Concerning The Synthetic Unity Of Apperception “Trash, trash!” the king my uncle said, “The spirit’s smoke and weak as smoke ascends. “Sit in the sun and not among the dead, “Eat oranges! Pish tosh! the car attends. “All ghosts came back. they do not like it there, “No silky water and no big brown bear, “No beer and no siestas up […]...
4. THE PRIMROSE Ask me why I send you here This sweet Infanta of the year? Ask me why I send to you This Primrose, thus bepearl’d with dew? I will whisper to your ears, The sweets of love are mixt with tears. Ask me why this flower does show So yellow-green, and sickly too? Ask me why […]...
5. The Primrose Ask me why I send you here The firstling of the infant year; Ask me why I send to you This primrose all bepearled with dew: I straight will whisper in your ears, The sweets of love are washed with tears. Ask me why this flower doth show So yellow, green, and sickly too; Ask […]...
6. In a Disused Graveyard The living come with grassy tread To read the gravestones on the hill; The graveyard draws the living still, But never anymore the dead. The verses in it say and say: “The ones who living come today To read the stones and go away Tomorrow dead will come to stay.” So sure of death the […]...
7. Elegy Upon Tiger Her dead lady’s joy and comfort, Who departed this life The last day of March, 1727: To the great joy of Bryan That his antagonist is gone. And is poor Tiger laid at last so low? O day of sorrow! – Day of dismal woe! Bloodhounds, or spaniels, lap-dogs, ’tis all one, When Death once […]...
8. Sonnet XIX: You Cannot Love To Humor You cannot love, my pretty heart, and why? There was a time you told me that you would; But now again you will the same deny, If it might please you, would to God you could. What, will you hate? Nay, that you will not, neither. Nor love nor hate, how then? What […]...
9. Carbonara eyes Nicky said I couldn’t write, she’s got a charming Sense of social etiquette – given she’s a bitch (the canine sort, can’t spell for shit or even write A word) but then she has the most expressive eyes. So what she said was no surprise, she’d heard My lamentations, licked my hands, rested forepaws On […]...
10. Cassandra The mad girl with the staring eyes and long white fingers Hooked in the stones of the wall, The storm-wrack hair and screeching mouth: does it matter, Cassandra, Whether the people believe Your bitter fountain? Truly men hate the truth, they’d liefer Meet a tiger on the road. Therefore the poets honey their truth with […]...
11. Sonnet 31: Thy bosom is endearèd with all hearts Thy bosom is endearèd with all hearts, Which I by lacking have supposèd dead, And there reigns love and all love’s loving parts, And all those friends which I thought burièd. How many a holy and obsequious tear Hath dear religious love stol’n from mine eye As interest of the dead, which now appear But […]...
12. Sonnet XXXI Thy bosom is endeared with all hearts, Which I by lacking have supposed dead, And there reigns love and all love’s loving parts, And all those friends which I thought buried. How many a holy and obsequious tear Hath dear religious love stol’n from mine eye As interest of the dead, which now appear But […]...
13. A Spiritual Woman Close your eyes, my love, let me make you blind; They have taught you to see Only a mean arithmetic on the face of things, A cunning algebra in the faces of men, And God like geometry Completing his circles, and working cleverly. I’ll kiss you over the eyes till I kiss you blind; If […]...
14. The Fisherman Although I can see him still. The freckled man who goes To a grey place on a hill In grey Connemara clothes At dawn to cast his flies, It’s long since I began To call up to the eyes This wise and simple man. All day I’d looked in the face What I had hoped […]...
15. An Enigma “Seldom we find,” says Solomon Don Dunce, “Half an idea in the profoundest sonnet. Through all the flimsy things we see at once As easily as through a Naples bonnet – Trash of all trash!- how can a lady don it? Yet heavier far than your Petrarchan stuff – Owl-downy nonsense that the faintest puff […]...
16. Give Me Back My Rags #12 Enough chattering violets enough sweet trash I won’t hear anything know anything Enough enough of all I’ll say the last enough Fill my mouth with earth Grit my teeth To break off you skull guzzler To break off once for all I’ll just be what I am Without root without branch without crown I’ll lean […]...
17. Le Gout du Néant Morne esprit, autrefois amoureux de la lutte, L’Espoir, dont l’éperon attisait ton ardeur, Ne veut plus t’enfourcher! Couche-toi sans pudeur, Vieux cheval dont le pied à chaque obstacle bute. Résigne-toi, mon coeur; dors ton sommeil de brute. Esprit vaincu, fourbu! Pour toi, vieux maraudeur, L’amour n’a plus de gout, non plus que la dispute; Adieu […]...
18. Resignation I’d hate to be centipede (of legs I’ve only two), For if new trousers I should need (as oftentimes I do), The bill would come to such a lot ‘twould tax an Astorbilt, Or else I’d have to turn a Scot and caper in a kilt. I’m jolly glad I haven’t got a neck like […]...
19. A Curse For A Nation I heard an angel speak last night, And he said ‘Write! Write a Nation’s curse for me, And send it over the Western Sea.’ I faltered, taking up the word: ‘Not so, my lord! If curses must be, choose another To send thy curse against my brother. ‘For I am bound by gratitude, By love […]...
20. The Prohibition Take heed of loving me; At least remember I forbade it thee; Not that I shall repair my unthrifty waste Of breath and blood, upon thy sighs and tears, By being to thee then what to me thou wast; But so great joy our life at once outwears; Then, lest thy love by my death […]...
21. Walking To Oak-Head Pond, And Thinking Of The Ponds I Will Visit In The Next Days And Weeks What is so utterly invisible As tomorrow? Not love, Not the wind, Not the inside of a stone. Not anything. And yet, how often I’m fooled I’m wading along In the sunlight And I’m sure I can see the fields and the ponds shining Days ahead I can see the light spilling Like a shower […]...
22. The Conspiracy You send me your poems, I’ll send you mine. Things tend to awaken Even through random communication Let us suddenly Proclaim spring. And jeer At the others, All the others. I will send a picture too If you will send me one of you....
23. Poor Poet ‘A man should write to please himself,’ He proudly said. Well, see his poems on the shelf, Dusty, unread. When he came to my shop each day, So peaked and cold, I’d sneak one of his books away And say ’twas sold. And then by chance he looked below, And saw a stack Of his […]...
24. On The Meeting Of García Lorca And Hart Crane Brooklyn, 1929. Of course Crane’s Been drinking and has no idea who This curious Andalusian is, unable Even to speak the language of poetry. The young man who brought them Together knows both Spanish and English, But he has a headache from jumping Back and forth from one language To another. For a moment’s relief […]...
25. Indeed, indeed, I cannot tell Indeed, indeed, I cannot tell, Though I ponder on it well, Which were easier to state, All my love or all my hate. Surely, surely, thou wilt trust me When I say thou dost disgust me. O, I hate thee with a hate That would fain annihilate; Yet sometimes against my will, My dear friend, […]...
26. Cotton Song Come, brother, come. Lets lift it; Come now, hewit! roll away! Shackles fall upon the Judgment Day But lets not wait for it. God’s body’s got a soul, Bodies like to roll the soul, Cant blame God if we dont roll, Come, brother, roll, roll! Cotton bales are the fleecy way, Weary sinner’s bare feet […]...
27. Holy Sonnet V: I Am A Little World Made Cunningly I am a little world made cunningly Of elements, and an angelic sprite; But black sin hath betrayed to endless night My worlds both parts, and (oh!) both parts must die. You which beyond that heaven which was most high Have found new spheres, and of new lands can write, Pour new seas in mine […]...
28. 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 […]...
29. This self-congratulatory nonsense as the Famous gather to applaud their seeming Greatness You Wonder where The real ones are What Giant cave Hides them As The deathly talentless Bow to Accolades As The fools are Fooled Again You Wonder where The real ones are If there are Real ones. This self-congratulatory nonsense Has lasted Decades And […]...
30. The Evil Seekers We are born with luck Which is to say with gold in our mouth. As new and smooth as a grape, As pure as a pond in Alaska, As good as the stem of a green bean We are born and that ought to be enough, We ought to be able to carry on from […]...
31. Named He’d spent his life trying to control the names people gave him; Oh the unfair and the accurate equally hurt. Just recently he’d been a son-of-a-bitch and sweetheart in the same day, And once again knew what antonyms Love and control are, and how comforting it must be to have a business card – Manager, […]...
32. The End of the World Here, at the end of the world, The flowers bleed As if they were hearts, The hearts ooze a darkness Like india ink, & poets dip their pens in & they write. “Here, at the end of the world,” They write, Not knowing what it means. “Here, where the sky nurses on black milk, Where […]...
33. Concerning Emperors I. GOD SEND THE REGICIDE Would that the lying rulers of the world Were brought to block for tyrannies abhorred. Would that the sword of Cromwell and the Lord, The sword of Joshua and Gideon, Hewed hip and thigh the hosts of Midian. God send that ironside ere tomorrow’s sun; Let Gabriel and Michael with […]...
34. 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 […]...
35. My Cross I wrote a poem to the moon But no one noticed it; Although I hoped that late or soon Someone would praise a bit Its purity and grace forlone, Its beauty tulip-cool… But as my poem died still-born, I felt a fool. I wrote a verse of vulgar trend Spiced with an oath or two; […]...
36. Sonnets iv THY bosom is endeared with all hearts Which I, by lacking, have supposed dead: And there reigns Love, and all Love’s loving parts, And all those friends which I thought buried. How many a holy and obsequious tear Hath dear religious love stol’n from mine eye, As interest of the dead! which now appear But […]...
37. Sonnet 145: Those lips that Love's own hand did make Those lips that Love’s own hand did make Breathed forth the sound that said “I hate” To me that languished for her sake; But when she saw my woeful state, Straight in her heart did mercy come, Chiding that tongue that ever sweet Was used in giving gentle doom, And taught it thus anew to […]...
38. Oh It is snowing and death bugs me As stubborn as insomnia. The fierce bubbles of chalk, The little white lesions Settle on the street outside. It is snowing and the ninety Year old woman who was combing Out her long white wraith hair Is gone, embalmed even now, Even tonight her arms are smooth Muskets […]...
39. The Maid's Thought Why listen, even the water is sobbing for something. The west wind is dead, the waves Forget to hate the cliff, in the upland canyons Whole hillsides burst aglow With golden broom. Dear how it rained last month, And every pool was rimmed With sulphury pollen dust of the wakening pines. Now tall and slender […]...
40. Sonnet CXLV Those lips that Love’s own hand did make Breathed forth the sound that said ‘I hate’ To me that languish’d for her sake; But when she saw my woeful state, Straight in her heart did mercy come, Chiding that tongue that ever sweet Was used in giving gentle doom, And taught it thus anew to […]...