Woodchucks

Related poetry:

1. Red Roses Tommy is three and when he’s bad His mother dances with him. She puts on the record, “Red Roses for a Blue Lady” And throws him across the room. Mind you, She never laid a hand on him. He gets red roses in different places, The head, that time he was as sleepy as a […]...
2. A Song From 'The Player Queen&#039 My mother dandled me and sang, ‘How young it is, how young!’ And made a golden cradle That on a willow swung. ‘He went away,’ my mother sang, ‘When I was brought to bed,’ And all the while her needle pulled The gold and silver thread. She pulled the thread and bit the thread And […]...
3. Nothing Gold Can Stay Nature’s first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf’s a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay....
4. For God While Sleeping Sleeping in fever, I am unfair To know just who you are: Hung up like a pig on exhibit, The delicate wrists, The beard drooling blood and vinegar; Hooked to your own weight, Jolting toward death under your nameplate. Everyone in this crowd needs a bath. I am dressed in rags. The mother wears blue. […]...
5. Teeth English Teeth, English Teeth! Shining in the sun A part of British heritage Aye, each and every one. English Teeth, Happy Teeth! Always having fun Clamping down on bits of fish And sausages half done. English Teeth! HEROES’ Teeth! Hear them click! and clack! Let’s sing a song of praise to them – Three Cheers […]...
6. Hooray Say The Roses hooray say the roses, today is blamesday And we are red as blood. Hooray say the roses, today is Wednesday And we bloom wher soldiers fell And lovers too, And the snake at the word. Hooray say the roses, darkness comes All at once, like lights gone out, The sun leaves dark continents And rows […]...
7. When the Astronomer stops seeking When the Astronomer stops seeking For his Pleiad’s Face When the lone British Lady Forsakes the Arctic Race When to his Covenant Needle The Sailor doubting turns It will be amply early To ask what treason means....
8. The missing the way loss seeps Into neck hollows And curls at temples Sits between front teeth Cavity Empty and waiting For mourning to open The way mourning stays Forever shadowing vision Shaping lives with memory A drawer won’t close Sleep elusive Smile illusive The only real is grief Forever counting the days Minutes missing without knowing […]...
9. Crowned You came to me bearing bright roses, Red like the wine of your heart; You twisted them into a garland To set me aside from the mart. Red roses to crown me your lover, And I walked aureoled and apart. Enslaved and encircled, I bore it, Proud token of my gift to you. The petals […]...
10. The Ungrateful Garden Midas watched the golden crust That formed over his steaming sores, Hugged his agues, loved his lust, But damned to hell the out-of-doors Where blazing motes of sun impaled The serrid roses, metal-bright. “Those famous flowers,” Midas wailed, “Have scorched my retina with light.” This gift, he’d thought, would gild his joys, Silt up the […]...
11. To My Mother Because I feel that, in the Heavens above, The angels, whispering to one another, Can find, among their burning terms of love, None so devotional as that of “Mother,” Therefore by that dear name I long have called you- You who are more than mother unto me, And fill my heart of hearts, where Death […]...
12. Never To Dream Of Spiders Time collapses between the lips of strangers My days collapse into a hollow tube Soon implodes against now Like an iron wall My eyes are blocked with rubble A smear of perspectives Blurring each horizon In the breathless precision of silence One word is made. Once the renegade flesh was gone Fall air lay against […]...
13. Time of Roses It was not in the Winter Our loving lot was cast; It was the time of roses – We pluck’d them as we pass’d! That churlish season never frown’d On early lovers yet: O no-the world was newly crown’d With flowers when first we met! ‘Twas twilight, and I bade you go, But still you […]...
14. The Flower Shop Because I have no garden and No pence to buy, Before the flower shop I stand And sigh. The beauty of the Springtide spills In glowing posies Of voilets and daffodils And roses. And as I see that joy of bloom, Sad sighing, I think of Mother in her room, Lone lying. She babbles of […]...
15. While Someone Telephones Wasted, wasted minutes that couldn’t be worse, Minutes of a barbaric condescension. Stare out the bathroom window at the fir-trees, At their dark needles, accretions to no purpose Woodenly crystallized, and where two fireflies Are only lost. Hear nothing but a train that goes by, must go by, like tension; Nothing. And wait: Maybe even […]...
16. Po' Boy Blues When I was home de Sunshine seemed like gold. When I was home de Sunshine seemed like gold. Since I come up North de Whole damn world’s turned cold. I was a good boy, Never done no wrong. Yes, I was a good boy, Never done no wrong, But this world is weary An’ de […]...
17. A Nativity 1914-18 The Babe was laid in the Manger Between the gentle kine All safe from cold and danger “But it was not so with mine, (With mine! With mine!) “Is it well with the child, is it well?” The waiting mother prayed. “For I know not how he fell, And I know not where he […]...
18. Hawk Roosting I sit in the top of the wood, my eyes closed. Inaction, no falsifying dream Between my hooked head and hooked feet: Or in sleep rehearse perfect kills and eat. The convenience of the high trees! The air’s buoyancy and the sun’s ray Are of advantage to me; And the earth’s face upward for my […]...
19. The Song Of Wandering Aengus I went out to the hazel wood, Because a fire was in my head, And cut and peeled a hazel wand, And hooked a berry to a thread; And when white moths were on the wing, And moth-like stars were flickering out, I dropped the berry in a stream And caught a little silver trout. […]...
20. The Broken Tryst That day a fire was in my blood; I could have sung: joy wrapt me round; The men I met seemed all so good, I scarcely knew I trod the ground. How easy seemed all toil! I laughed To think that once I hated it. The sunlight thrilled like wine, I quaffed Delight, divine and […]...
21. Sonnets 08: And You As Well Must Die, Beloved Du And you as well must die, beloved dust, And all your beauty stand you in no stead; This flawless, vital hand, this perfect head, This body of flame and steel, before the gust Of Death, or under his autumnal frost, Shall be as any leaf, be no less dead Than the first leaf that fell, […]...
22. Broken-face Gargoyles ALL I can give you is broken-face gargoyles. It is too early to sing and dance at funerals, Though I can whisper to you I am looking for an undertaker humming a lullaby and throwing his feet in a swift and mystic buck-and-wing, now you see it and now you don’t. Fish to swim a […]...
23. The Bagel I stopped to pick up the bagel Rolling away in the wind, Annoyed with myself For having dropped it As if it were a portent. Faster and faster it rolled, With me running after it Bent low, gritting my teeth, And I found myself doubled over And rolling down the street Head over heels, one […]...
24. Don't put up my Thread and Needle Don’t put up my Thread and Needle I’ll begin to Sew When the Birds begin to whistle Better Stitches so These were bent my sight got crooked When my mind is plain I’ll do seams a Queen’s endeavor Would not blush to own Hems too fine for Lady’s tracing To the sightless Knot Tucks of […]...
25. The Beautiful Changes One wading a Fall meadow finds on all sides The Queen Anne’s Lace lying like lilies On water; it glides So from the walker, it turns Dry grass to a lake, as the slightest shade of you Valleys my mind in fabulous blue Lucernes. The beautiful changes as a forest is changed By a chameleon’s […]...
26. Blue Roses Roses red and roses white Plucked I for my love’s delight. She would none of all my posies Bade me gather her blue roses. Half the world I wandered through, Seeking where such flowers grew. Half the world unto my quest Answered me with laugh and jest. Home I came at wintertide, But my silly […]...
27. They dropped like Flakes They dropped like Flakes They dropped like Stars Like Petals from a Rose When suddenly across the June A wind with fingers goes They perished in the Seamless Grass No eye could find the place But God can summon every face Of his Repealless List....
28. A Bunch of Roses Roses ruddy and roses white, What are the joys that my heart discloses? Sitting alone in the fading light Memories come to me here tonight With the wonderful scent of the big red roses. Memories come as the daylight fades Down on the hearth where the firelight dozes; Flicker and flutter the lights and shades, […]...
29. 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 […]...
30. The Painter on Silk There was a man Who made his living By painting roses Upon silk. He sat in an upper chamber And painted, And the noises of the street Meant nothing to him. When he heard bugles, and fifes, and drums, He thought of red, and yellow, and white roses Bursting in the sunshine, And smiled as […]...
31. A Lady You are beautiful and faded Like an old opera tune Played upon a harpsichord; Or like the sun-flooded silks Of an eighteenth-century boudoir. In your eyes Smoulder the fallen roses of out-lived minutes, And the perfume of your soul Is vague and suffusing, With the pungence of sealed spice-jars. Your half-tones delight me, And I […]...
32. The Satin Dress Needle, needle, dip and dart, Thrusting up and down, Where’s the man could ease a heart Like a satin gown? See the stitches curve and crawl Round the cunning seams- Patterns thin and sweet and small As a lady’s dreams. Wantons go in bright brocade; Brides in organdie; Gingham’s for the plighted maid; Satin’s for […]...
33. Our lives are Swiss Our lives are Swiss So still so Cool Till some odd afternoon The Alps neglect their Curtains And we look farther on! Italy stands the other side! While like a guard between The solemn Alps The siren Alps Forever intervene!...
34. June Sick Room The birds’ shrill fluting Beats on the pink blind, Pierces the pink blind At whose edge fumble the sun’s Fingers till one obtrudes And stirs the thick motes. The room is a close box of pink warmth. The minutes click. A man picks across the street With a metal-pointed stick. Three clocks drop each twelve […]...
35. These Green-Going-to-Yellow This year, I’m raising the emotional ante, Putting my face In the leaves to be stepped on, Seeing myself among them, that is; That is, likening Leaf-vein to artery, leaf to flesh, The passage of a leaf in autumn To the passage of autumn, Branch-tip and winter spaces To possibilities, and possibility To God. Even […]...
36. Sarabande On Attaining The Age Of Seventy-Seven The harbingers are come. See, see their mark; White is their colour; and behold my head. George Herbert Long gone the smoke-and-pepper childhood smell Of the smoldering immolation of the year, Leaf-strewn in scattered grandeur where it fell, Golden and poxed with frost, tarnished and sere. And I myself have whitened in the weathers Of […]...
37. The Song of Education III. For the Creche Form 8277059, Sub-Section K I remember my mother, the day that we met, A thing I shall never entirely forget; And I toy with the fancy that, young as I am, I should know her again if we met in a tram. But mother is happy in turning a crank That […]...
38. Mother o' Mine If I were hanged on the highest hill, Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine! I know whose love would follow me still, Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine! If I were drowned in the deepest sea, Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine! I know whose tears would come down to me, Mother […]...
39. The Minotaur The mahogany table-top you smashed Had been the broad plank top Of my mother’s heirloom sideboard- Mapped with the scars of my whole life. That came under the hammer. That high stool you swung that day Demented by my being Twenty minutes late for baby-minding. ‘Marvellous!’ I shouted, ‘Go on, Smash it into kindling. That’s […]...
40. Asking For Roses A house that lacks, seemingly, mistress and master, With doors that none but the wind ever closes, Its floor all littered with glass and with plaster; It stands in a garden of old-fashioned roses. I pass by that way in the gloaming with Mary; ‘I wonder,’ I say, ‘who the owner of those is.’ ‘Oh, […]...