Of Politics & Art

Related poetry:

1. Politics ‘In our time the destiny of man prevents its meanings In political terms.’ Thomas Mann. How can I, that girl standing there, My attention fix On Roman or on Russian Or on Spanish politics? Yet here’s a travelled man that knows What he talks about, And there’s a politician That has read and thought, And […]...
2. Short Order I took my girlfriend to your last poetry reading, She said. Yes, yes? I asked. She’s young and pretty, she said. And? I asked. She hated your Guts. Then she stretched out on the couch And pulled off her Boots. I don’t have very good legs, She said. All right, I thought, I don’t have […]...
3. A little Snow was here and there A little Snow was here and there Disseminated in her Hair Since she and I had met and played Decade had gathered to Decade But Time had added not obtained Impregnable the Rose For summer too indelible Too obdurate for Snows...
4. Partisanship and politics Were I not a patriot, which of course I am, I would explain Just how the term remains a sticking point within my craw, How it contains a core of prudish mockery, dissembles jingoistic Claims. But I am and not ashamed. I love the land, the people And the open places, I can’t condone the […]...
5. New Mexico I was fairly drunk when it Began and I took out my bottle and used it Along the way. I was reading a week or two after Kandel and I did not look quite as Pretty but I brought it off and we Ended up at the Webbs, 6, 8, 10 of Us, and I […]...
6. In Tara's Halls A man I praise that once in Tara’s Hals Said to the woman on his knees, ‘Lie still. My hundredth year is at an end. I think That something is about to happen, I think That the adventure of old age begins. To many women I have said, ”Lie still,” And given everything a woman […]...
7. The Ladies I’ve taken my fun where I’ve found it; I’ve rouged an’ I’ve ranged in my time; I’ve ‘ad my pickin’ o’ seethearts, An’ four o’ the lot was prime. One was an ‘arf-caste widow, One was awoman at Prome, One was the wife of a jemadar-sais An’ one is a girl at ‘ome. Now I […]...
8. Careers I knew three sisters, all were sweet; Wishful to wed was I, And wondered which would mostly meet The matrimonial tie. I asked the first what fate would she Wish joy of life to bring to her. She answered: ‘I would like to be A concert singer.’ I asked the second, for my mind Was […]...
9. Dream Song 104: Welcome, grinned Henry, welcome, fifty-one! Welcome, grinned Henry, welcome, fifty-one! I never cared for fifty, when nothing got done. The hospitals were fun In certain ways, and an honour or so, But on the whole fifty was a mess as though Heavy clubs from below And from—God save the bloody mark—above Were loosed upon his skull & soles. O love, […]...
10. The House of Fortune III My wearied heart bade me farewell and left for the House of Fortune. As he reached that holy city which the soul had blessed and worshipped, he commenced wondering, for he could not find what he had always imagined would be there. The city was empty of power, money, and authority. And my heart spoke […]...
11. Sonnet 20: A woman's face with Nature's own hand painted A woman’s face with Nature’s own hand painted Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion; A woman’s gentle heart, but not acquainted With shifting change, as is false women’s fashion; An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling, Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth; A man in hue, all hues in his controlling, […]...
12. Sonnet XX A woman’s face with Nature’s own hand painted Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion; A woman’s gentle heart, but not acquainted With shifting change, as is false women’s fashion; An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling, Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth; A man in hue, all ‘hues’ in his controlling, […]...
13. SYMBOLS PALM Sunday at the Vatican They celebrate with palms; With reverence bows each holy man, And chaunts the ancient psalms. Those very psalms are also sung With olive boughs in hand, While holly, mountain wilds among, In place of palms must stand: In fine, one seeks some twig that’s green, And takes a willow rod, […]...
14. Peekabo, I Almost See You Middle-aged life is merry, and I love to Lead it, But there comes a day when your eyes Are all right but your arm isn’t long Enough To hold the telephone book where you can read it, And your friends get jocular, so you go To the oculist, And of all your friends he is […]...
15. Before Storm There’s a grayness over the harbor like fear on the face of a woman, The sob of the waves has a sound akin to a woman’s cry, And the deeps beyond the bar are moaning with evil presage Of a storm that will leap from its lair in that dour north-eastern sky. Slowly the pale […]...
16. A Million Young Workmen, 1915 A MILLION young workmen straight and strong lay stiff on the grass and roads, And the million are now under soil and their rottening flesh will in the years feed roots of blood-red roses. Yes, this million of young workmen slaughtered one another and never saw their red hands. And oh, it would have been […]...
17. Modern Love XXXI: This Golden Head This golden head has wit in it. I live Again, and a far higher life, near her. Some women like a young philosopher; Perchance because he is diminutive. For woman’s manly god must not exceed Proportions of the natural nursing size. Great poets and great sages draw no prize With women: but the little lap-dog […]...
18. On a Line from Valéry (The Gulf War) The whole green sky is dying. The last tree flares With a great burst of supernatural rose Under a canopy of poisonous airs. Could we imagine our return to prayers To end in time before time’s final throes, The green sky dying as the last tree flares? But we were young in judgement, old in […]...
19. Nights Nothings Again WHO knows what I know When I have asked the night questions And the night has answered nothing Only the old answers? Who picked a crimson cryptogram, The tail light of a motor car turning a corner, Or the midnight sign of a chile con carne place, Or a man out of the ashes of […]...
20. The Routine Things Around The House When Mother died I thought: now I’ll have a death poem. That was unforgivable. Yet I’ve since forgiven myself As sons are able to do Who’ve been loved by their mothers. I stared into the coffin Knowing how long she’d live, How many lifetimes there are In the sweet revisions of memory. It’s hard to […]...
21. Remembered Women FOR a woman’s face remembered as a spot of quick light on the flat land of dark night, For this memory of one mouth and a forehead they go on in the gray rain and the mud, they go on among the boots and guns. The horizon ahead is a thousand fang flashes, it is […]...
22. On a Line From Valery (Gulf War) Tout le ciel vert se meurt Le dernier arbre brûle. The whole green sky is dying. The last tree flares With a great burst of supernatural rose Under a canopy of poisonous airs. Could we imagine our return to prayers To end in time before time’s final throes, The green sky dying as the last […]...
23. Nirvana not much chance, Completely cut loose from Purpose, He was a young man Riding a bus Through North Carolina On the wat to somewhere And it began to snow And the bus stopped At a little cafe In the hills And the passengers Entered. He sat at the counter With the others, He ordered and […]...
24. Who is now Reading This? WHO is now reading this? May-be one is now reading this who knows some wrong-doing of my past life, Or may-be a stranger is reading this who has secretly loved me, Or may-be one who meets all my grand assumptions and egotisms with derision, Or may-be one who is puzzled at me. As if I […]...
25. Dippold the Optician What do you see now? Globes of red, yellow, purple. Just a moment! And now? My father and mother and sisters. Yes! And now? Knights at arms, beautiful women, kind faces. Try this. A field of grain-a city. Very good! And now? A young woman with angels bending over her. A heavier lens! And now? […]...
26. Dream Song 3: A Stimulant for an Old Beast Acacia, burnt myrrh, velvet, pricky stings. €”I’m not so young but not so very old, Said screwed-up lovely 23. A final sense of being right out in the cold, Unkissed. (—My psychiatrist can lick your psychiatrist.) Women get under things. All these old criminals sooner or later Have had it. I’ve been reading old journals. […]...
27. Pigeon THE FLUTTER of blue pigeon’s wings Under a river bridge Hunting a clean dry arch, A corner for a sleep- This flutters here in a woman’s hand. A singing sleep cry, A drunken poignant two lines of song, Somebody looking clean into yesterday And remembering, or looking clean into To-morrow, and reading,- This sings here […]...
28. SORRY I MISSED YOU (or ‘Huddersfield the Second Poetry Capital of England Re-visited’) What was it Janice Simmons said to me as James lay dying in Ireland? “Phone Peter Pegnall in Leeds, an ex-pupil of Jimmy’s. He’s organising A benefit reading, he’d love to hear from you and have your help.” ‘Like hell he would’ I thought but I […]...
29. Year's End for Audre Lorde and Sonny Wainwright Twice in my quickly disappearing forties Someone called while someone I loved and I were Making love to tell me another woman had died of cancer. Seven years apart, and two different lovers: Underneath the numbers, how lives are braided, How those women’s death and lives, lived and died, […]...
30. To George Sand: A Recognition TRUE genius, but true woman! dost deny The woman’s nature with a manly scorn And break away the gauds and armlets worn By weaker women in captivity? Ah, vain denial! that revolted cry Is sobbed in by a woman’s voice forlorn, Thy woman’s hair, my sister, all unshorn Floats back dishevelled strength in agony Disproving […]...
31. I've dropped my Brain My Soul is numb I’ve dropped my Brain My Soul is numb The Veins that used to run Stop palsied ’tis Paralysis Done perfecter on stone Vitality is Carved and cool. My nerve in Marble lies A Breathing Woman Yesterday Endowed with Paradise. Not dumb I had a sort that moved A Sense that smote and stirred Instincts for […]...
32. Phenomenal Woman Pretty women wonder where my secret lies. I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size But when I start to tell them, They think I’m telling lies. I say, It’s in the reach of my arms The span of my hips, The stride of my step, The curl of my lips. I’m […]...
33. On His Eightieth Birthday To my ninth decade I have tottered on, And no soft arm bends now my steps to steady; She, who once led me where she would, is gone, So when he calls me, Death shall find me ready....
34. Cuckoo Song (Spring begins in southern England on the 14th April, on which date the Old Woman lets the Cuckoo out of her basket at Heathfield Fair locally known as Heffle Cuckoo Fair.) Tell it to the locked-up trees, Cuckoo, bring your song here! Warrant, Act and Summons, please, For Spring to pass along here! Tell old […]...
35. Lover's Gifts LXX: Take Back Your Coins Take back your coins, King’s Councillor. I am of those women you Sent to the forest shrine to decoy the young ascetic who had never Seen a women. I failed in your bidding. Dimly day was breaking when the hermit boy came to bathe in The stream, his tawny locks crowded on his shoulders, like […]...
36. The New Knighthood Who gives him the Bath? “I,” said the wet, Rank-Jungle-sweat, “I’ll give him the Bath!” Who’ll sing the psalms? “We,” said the Palms. “Ere the hot wind becalms, “We’ll sing the psalms.” Who lays on the sword? “I,” said the Sun, Before he has done, “I’ll lay on the sword.” “Who fastens his belt? “I,” […]...
37. The Recumbent Posture The day after Christmas, young Albert Were what’s called, confined to his bed, With a tight kind of pain in his stummick And a light feeling up in his head. His parents were all in a fluster When they saw little lad were so sick, They said, ‘Put out your tongue!’, When they’d seen it […]...
38. LETTER TO MICHAEL HOROVITZ It is time after thirty years We had our Poetry Renaissance Rise, Children of Albion, rise! It is time after nightmares of sleep When we walked the streets of inner cities Our poems among the burnt-out houses And cars, whispering compassion To the addicts shaking and the homeless Waking and those who have come apart […]...
39. I Sit and Look Out I SIT and look out upon all the sorrows of the world, and upon all oppression and shame; I hear secret convulsive sobs from young men, at anguish with themselves, remorseful after deeds done; I see, in low life, the mother misused by her children, dying, neglected, gaunt, desperate; I see the wife misused by […]...
40. North Atlantic WHEN the sea is everywhere From horizon to horizon.. when the salt and blue fill a circle of horizons.. I swear again how I know The sea is older than anything else And the sea younger than anything else. My first father was a landsman. My tenth father was a sea-lover, a gipsy sea-boy, a […]...