Pan

Related poetry:

1. The Owners Of The Little Box Line the inside of the little box With your precious skin And make yourself cozy Just as you would in your own home Make space voyages inside her Gather stars make time squirt its milk And sleep in the clouds Just don’t go around pretending You’re more important than her length And wiser than her […]...
2. The Little Box The little box gets her first teeth And her little length Little width little emptiness And all the rest she has The little box continues growing The cupboard that she was inside Is now inside her And she grows bigger bigger bigger Now the room is inside her And the house and the city and […]...
3. Psalm 119 part 14 Benefit of afflictions, and support under them. Ver. 153,81,82 Consider all my sorrows, Lord, And thy deliv’rance send; My soul for thy salvation faints When will my troubles end? Ver. 71 Yet I have found ’tis good for me To bear my Father’s rod; Afflictions make me learn thy law, And live upon my God. […]...
4. Black Oaks Okay, not one can write a symphony, or a dictionary, Or even a letter to an old friend, full of remembrance And comfort. Not one can manage a single sound though the blue jays Carp and whistle all day in the branches, without The push of the wind. But to tell the truth after a […]...
5. Song The weight of the world is love. Under the burden of solitude, Under the burden of dissatisfaction the weight, The weight we carry is love. Who can deny? In dreams It touches the body, In thought constructs A miracle, in imagination Anguishes till born In human Looks out of the heart burning with purity For […]...
6. Every day I bear a burden Every day I bear a burden, and I bear this calamity for a purpose: I bear the discomfort of cold and December’s snow in hope of spring. Before the fattener-up of all who are lean, I drag this so emaciated body; Though they expel me from two hundred cities, I bear it for the sake […]...
7. Let Me Not Forget If it is not my portion to meet thee in this life Then let me ever feel that I have missed thy sight – let me not forget for a moment, Let me carry the pangs of this sorrow in my dreams And in my wakeful hours. As my days pass in the crowded market […]...
8. Sonnet to My Beloved Daughter WHEN FATE in ruthless rage assail’d my breast, And Heaven relentless seal’d the harsh decree; HOPE, placid soother of the mind distress’d; To calm my rending sorrows­gave me THEE. In all the charms of innocence array’d, ‘Tis thine to sprinkle patience on my woes; As from thy voice celestial comfort flows, Glancing bright lustre o’er […]...
9. After the Engagement Well, Mabel, ’tis over and ended – The ball I wrote was to be; And oh! it was perfectly splendid – If you could have been here to see. I’ve a thousand things to write you That I know you are wanting to hear, And one, that is sure to delight you – I am […]...
10. Thoughts in a Tranquil Night Athwart the bed I watch the moonbeams cast a trail So bright, so cold, so frail, That for a space it gleams Like hoar-frost on the margin of my dreams. I raise my head, The splendid moon I see: Then droop my head, And sink to dreams of thee My Fatherland, of thee!...
11. Blizzard Snow falls: Years of anger following Hours that float idly down- The blizzard Drifts its weight Deeper and deeper for three days Or sixty years, eh? Then The sun! a clutter of Yellow and blue flakes- Hairy looking trees stand out In long alleys Over a wild solitude. The man turns and there- His solitary […]...
12. 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 […]...
13. Your Feet When I cannot look at your face I look at your feet. Your feet of arched bone, Your hard little feet. I know that they support you, And that your sweet weight Rises upon them. Your waist and your breasts, The doubled purple Of your nipples, The sockets of your eyes That have just flown […]...
14. Some Advice To Those Who Will Serve Time In Prison If instead of being hanged by the neck you’re thrown inside for not giving up hope In the world, your country, your people, if you do ten or fifteen years apart from the time you have left, You won’t say, “Better I had swung from the end of a rope like a flag” You’ll put […]...
15. Poem 17 Now ceasse ye damsels your delights forepast, Enough is it, that all the day was youres: Now day is doen, and night is nighing fast: Now bring the Bryde into the brydall boures. Now night is come, now soone her disaray, And in her bed her lay; Lay her in lillies and in violets, And […]...
16. THANKS HER griefs were the hours When my struggle was sore, Her joys were the powers That the climber upbore. Her home is the boundless Free ocean that seems To rock, calm and soundless, My galleon of dreams. Half hers are the glancing Creations that throng With pageant and dancing The ways of my song. My […]...
17. Dawn Opposite me two Germans snore and sweat. Through sullen swirling gloom we jolt and roar. We have been here for ever: even yet A dim watch tells two hours, two aeons, more. The windows are tight-shut and slimy-wet With a night’s foetor. There are two hours more; Two hours to dawn and Milan; two hours […]...
18. Willard Fluke My wife lost her health, And dwindled until she weighed scarce ninety pounds. Then that woman, whom the men Styled Cleopatra, came along. And we we married ones All broke our vows, myself among the rest. Years passed and one by one Death claimed them all in some hideous form, And I was borne along […]...
19. WALKING WITH ANGELS for Lindsay AIDS Knows the condom wrapped penetration Of strangers and lovers, deep inside Only a tear away from risk Knows bare minimum t-cell level counts, Replacing intoxicating cocktails With jagged little pills Knows how to avoid a cure thanks to war How to keep pharmaceutical corporations And doctors in business AIDS Knows the weight […]...
20. Distress Coils Poem by Anne-Marie Derése, translated by Judith Skillman. The waiting volcano inside us Gnaws, digs, trembles, Weighs its chances. Distress coils up, Shrinks silent like a sick beast. We are unrecognizable, Unique In the certainty of our ferocity....
21. Lines Inscribed on The Wall of a Dungeon in The Southern P of I Though not a breath can enter here, I know the wind blows fresh and free; I know the sun is shining clear, Though not a gleam can visit me. They thought while I in darkness lay, ‘Twere pity that I should not know How all the earth is smiling gay; How fresh the vernal breezes […]...
22. Fields and Gardens by the River Qi I dwell apart by the River Qi, Where the Eastern wilds stretch far without hills. The sun darkens beyond the mulberry trees; The river glistens through the villages. Shepherd boys depart, gazing back to their hamlets; Hunting dogs return following their men. When a man’s at peace, what business does he have? I shut fast […]...
23. Locked Doors For the angels who inhabit this town, Although their shape constantly changes, Each night we leave some cold potatoes And a bowl of milk on the windowsill. Usually they inhabit heaven where, By the way, no tears are allowed. They push the moon around like A boiled yam. The Milky Way is their hen With […]...
24. The Fairies' Siege I have been given my charge to keep Well have I kept the same! Playing with strife for the most of my life, But this is a different game. I’11 not fight against swords unseen, Or spears that I cannot view Hand him the keys of the place on your knees ‘Tis the Dreamer whose […]...
25. Sonnet V Not undelightful, friend, our rustic ease To grateful hearts; for by especial hap, Deep nested in the hill’s enormous lap, With its own ring of walls and grove of trees, Sits, in deep shelter, our small cottage – nor Far-off is seen, rose carpeted and hung With clematis, the quarry whence she sprung, O mater […]...
26. 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 […]...
27. The Recall I am the land of their fathers, In me the virtue stays. I will bring back my children, After certain days. Under their feet in the grasses My clinging magic runs. They shall return as strangers. They shall remain as sons. Over their heads in the branches Of their new-bought, ancient trees, I weave an […]...
28. 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 […]...
29. Careers Father is quite the greatest poet That ever lived anywhere. You say you’re going to write great music – I chose that first: it’s unfair. Besides, now I can’t be the greatest painter and do Christ and angels, or lovely pears and apples and grapes on a green dish, or storms at sea, or anything […]...
30. The Gardener IV: Ah Me Ah me, why did they build my House by the road to the market Town? They moor their laden boats near My trees. They come and go and wander at Their will. I sit and watch them; my time Wears on. Turn them away I cannot. And Thus my days pass by. Night and day […]...
31. Good Friday O my chief good, How shall I measure out thy blood? How shall I count what thee befell, And each grief tell? Shall I thy woes Number according to thy foes? Or, since one star show’d thy first breath, Shall all thy death? Or shall each leaf, Which falls in Autumn, score a grief? Or […]...
32. Going Home He came home. Said nothing. It was clear, though, that something had gone wrong. He lay down fully dressed. Pulled the blanket over his head. Tucked up his knees. He’s nearly forty, but not at the moment. He exists just as he did inside his mother’s womb, Clad in seven walls of skin, in sheltered […]...
33. The Poet Of Ignorance Perhaps the earth is floating, I do not know. Perhaps the stars are little paper cutups Made by some giant scissors, I do not know. Perhaps the moon is a frozen tear, I do not know. Perhaps God is only a deep voice Heard by the deaf, I do not know. Perhaps I am no […]...
34. A Visitor My father, for example, Who was young once And blue-eyed, Returns On the darkest of nights To the porch and knocks Wildly at the door, And if I answer I must be prepared For his waxy face, For his lower lip Swollen with bitterness. And so, for a long time, I did not answer, But […]...
35. Convalescence From out the dragging vastness of the sea, Wave-fettered, bound in sinuous, seaweed strands, He toils toward the rounding beach, and stands One moment, white and dripping, silently, Cut like a cameo in lazuli, Then falls, betrayed by shifting shells, and lands Prone in the jeering water, and his hands Clutch for support where no […]...
36. The Craftsmen Of The Little Box Don’t open the little box Heaven’s hat will fall out of her Don’t close her for any reason She’ll bite the trouser-leg of eternity Don’t drop her on the earth The sun’s eggs will break inside her Don’t throw her in the air Earth’s bones will break inside her Don’t hold her in your hands […]...
37. The Grey Monk “I die, I die!” the Mother said, “My children die for lack of bread. What more has the merciless Tyrant said?” The Monk sat down on the stony bed. The blood red ran from the Grey Monk’s side, His hands and feet were wounded wide, His body bent, his arms and knees Like to the […]...
38. Style Flaubert wanted to write a novel About nothing. It was to have no subject And be sustained upon the style alone, Like the Holy Ghost cruising above The abyss, or like the little animals In Disney cartoons who stand upon a branch That breaks, but do not fall Till they look down. He never wrote […]...
39. Isaiah Beethoven They told me I had three months to live, So I crept to Bernadotte, And sat by the mill for hours and hours Where the gathered waters deeply moving Seemed not to move: O world, that’s you! You are but a widened place in the river Where Life looks down and we rejoice for her […]...
40. Ida Chicken After I had attended lectures At our Chautauqua, and studied French For twenty years, committing the grammar Almost by heart, I thought I’d take a trip to Paris To give my culture a final polish. So I went to Peoria for a passport (Thomas Rhodes was on the train that morning.) And there the clerk […]...