If Hands Could Free You, Heart

Related poetry:

1. What Fields Are As Fragrant As Your Hands? What fields are as fragrant as your hands? You feel how external fragrance stands Upon your stronger resistance. Stars stand in images above. Give me your mouth to soften, love; Ah, your hair is all in idleness. See, I want to surround you with yourself And the faded expectation lift From the edges of your […]...
2. Clean Hands IT is something to face the sun and know you are free. To hold your head in the shafts of daylight slanting the earth And know your heart has kept a promise and the blood runs clean: It is something. To go one day of your life among all men with clean hands, Clean for […]...
3. The Free-Selector's Daughter I met her on the Lachlan Side A darling girl I thought her, And ere I left I swore I’d win The free-selector’s daughter. I milked her father’s cows a month, I brought the wood and water, I mended all the broken fence, Before I won the daughter. I listened to her father’s yarns, I […]...
4. The Gardener XLVIII: Free Me Free me from the bonds of your Sweetness, my love! Nor more of this Wine of kisses. This mist of heavy incense stifles My heart. Open the doors, make room for the Morning light. I am lost in you, wrapped in the Folds of your caresses. Free me from your spells, and give Me back […]...
5. Bond and Free Love has earth to which she clings With hills and circling arms about Wall within wall to shut fear out. But Though has need of no such things, For Thought has a pair of dauntless wings. On snow and sand and turn, I see Where Love has left a printed trace With straining in the […]...
6. The Hands of the Betrothed Her tawny eyes are onyx of thoughtlessness, Hardened they are like gems in ancient modesty; Yea, and her mouth’s prudent and crude caress Means even less than her many words to me. Though her kiss betrays me also this, this only Consolation, that in her lips her blood at climax clips Two wild, dumb paws […]...
7. White Hands FOR the second time in a year this lady with the white hands is brought to the west room second floor of a famous sanatorium. Her husband is a cornice manufacturer in an Iowa town and the lady has often read papers on Victorian poets before the local literary club. Yesterday she washed her hands […]...
8. The Hangman's Great Hands And all that is this day. . . The boy with cap slung over what had been a face. .. Somehow the cop will sleep tonight, will make love to his Wife… Anger won’t help. I was born angry. Angry that my father was Being burnt alive in the mills; Angry that none of us […]...
9. Free Love By all means they try to hold me secure who love me in this world. But it is otherwise with thy love which is greater than theirs, And thou keepest me free. Lest I forget them they never venture to leave me alone. But day passes by after day and thou art not seen. If […]...
10. Nature that Washed Her Hands in Milk Nature, that washed her hands in milk, And had forgot to dry them, Instead of earth took snow and silk, At love’s request to try them, If she a mistress could compose To please love’s fancy out of those. Her eyes he would should be of light, A violet breath, and lips of jelly; Her […]...
11. Free from intrusion You awaken this time with a welcoming smile, an experience Sublime, not a dream – the boner from Hell Has presented itself like a prospect of fate, and reasoned Debate be damned, you’ll argue its merits later. These things used to be so ordinarily a part of each wake-up And every soaring lewd thought that […]...
12. Hold your mad hands Hold your mad hands! for ever on your plain Must the gorged vulture clog his beak with blood? For ever must your Niger’s tainted flood, Roll to the ravenous shark his banquet slain? Hold your mad hands! and learn at length to know, And turn your vengeance on the common foe, Yon treacherous vessel and […]...
13. A Valentine For Hands names, silence-quietest minutes (building like rain or returning like seas) Since they have touched me, your warm hands have sown Gentlest sounds, touches and hours (or, building like rain, turning, like seas) (building like rain, or returning like seas) Ripples and springs-the shiniest rivers- Since they have known me your warm hands have gathered Smallest, […]...
14. The Gift of the Sea The dead child lay in the shroud, And the widow watched beside; And her mother slept, and the Channel swept The gale in the teeth of the tide. But the mother laughed at all. “I have lost my man in the sea, And the child is dead. Be still,” she said, “What more can ye […]...
15. The Gardener XVI: Hands Cling to Eyes Hands cling to hands and eyes linger On eyes: thus begins the record of our Hearts. It is the moonlit night of March; The sweet smell of henna is in the air; My flute lies on the earth neglected And your garland of flowers is Unfinished. This love between you and me is Simple as […]...
16. Her gentle hands She came at night, her gentle hands Defused the ticking bomb that was his brain, She soothed the pain and drew his livid Length inside, she sat astride to weld His broken head with anxious gaze And clever hands, gave praise, Encouraged him to try and see, To open up his eyes. He cried. She […]...
17. A poor torn heart a tattered heart A poor torn heart a tattered heart That sat it down to rest Nor noticed that the Ebbing Day Flowed silver to the West Nor noticed Night did soft descend Nor Constellation burn Intent upon the vision Of latitudes unknown. The angels happening that way This dusty heart espied Tenderly took it up from toil […]...
18. Just as He spoke it from his Hands Just as He spoke it from his Hands This Edifice remain A Turret more, a Turret less Dishonor his Design According as his skill prefer It perish, or endure Content, soe’er, it ornament His absent character....
19. I Wrung My Hands I wrung my hands under my dark veil. . . “Why are you pale, what makes you reckless?” Because I have made my loved one drunk With an astringent sadness. I’ll never forget. He went out, reeling; His mouth was twisted, desolate. . . I ran downstairs, not touching the banisters, And followed him as […]...
20. "Me thinks this heart…&quot Me thinks this heart should rest awhile So stilly round the evening falls The veiled sun sheds no parting smile Nor mirth nor music wakes my Halls I have sat lonely all the day Watching the drizzly mist descend And first conceal the hills in grey And then along the valleys wend And I have […]...
21. The Gardener XXVI: What Comes From Your Willing Hands “What comes from your willing Hands I take. I beg for nothing More.” “Yes, yes, I know you, modest Mendicant, you ask for all that one Has.” “If there be a stray flower for me I will wear it in my heart.” “But if there be thorns?” “I will endure them.” “Yes, yes, I know […]...
22. As a Strong Bird on Pinions Free 1 AS a strong bird on pinions free, Joyous, the amplest spaces heavenward cleaving, Such be the thought I’d think to-day of thee, America, Such be the recitative I’d bring to-day for thee. The conceits of the poets of other lands I bring thee not, Nor the compliments that have served their turn so long, […]...
23. I felt my life with both my hands I felt my life with both my hands To see if it was there I held my spirit to the Glass, To prove it possibler I turned my Being round and round And paused at every pound To ask the Owner’s name For doubt, that I should know the Sound I judged my features jarred […]...
24. Many red devils ran from my heart Many red devils ran from my heart And out upon the page, They were so tiny The pen could mash them. And many struggled in the ink. It was strange To write in this red muck Of things from my heart....
25. A Hymn to God the Father Hear me, O God! A broken heart Is my best part. Use still thy rod, That I may prove Therein thy Love. If thou hadst not Been stern to me, But left me free, I had forgot Myself and thee. For sin’s so sweet, As minds ill-bent Rarely repent, Until they meet Their punishment. Who […]...
26. The Handsome Heart at a Gracious Answer ‘But tell me, child, your choice; what shall I buy You?’-‘Father, what you buy me I like best.’ With the sweetest air that said, still plied and pressed, He swung to his first poised purport of reply. What the heart is! which, like carriers let fly- Doff darkness, homing nature knows […]...
27. They Know Not My Heart They know not my heart, who believe there can be One stain of this earth in its feelings for thee; Who think, while I see thee in beauty’s young hour, As pure as the morning’s first dew on the flower, I could harm what I love, as the sun’s wanton ray But smiles on the […]...
28. Our Hands Have Met Our hands have met, our lips have met Our souls – who knows when the wind blows How light souls drift mid longings set, If thou forget’st, can I forget The time that was not long ago? Thou wert not silent then, but told Sweet secrets dear – I drew so near Thy shamefaced cheeks […]...
29. A Clasp Of Hands SOFT, small, and sweet as sunniest flowers That bask in heavenly heat When bud by bud breaks, breathes, and cowers, Soft, small, and sweet. A babe’s hands open as to greet The tender touch of ours And mock with motion faint and fleet The minutes of the new strange hours That earth, not heaven, must […]...
30. Kail Yard Bard A very humble pen I ply Beneath a cottage thatch; And in the sunny hours I try To till my cabbage patch; And in the gloaming glad am I To lift the latch. I do not plot to pile up pelf, With jowl and belly fat; To simple song I give myself, And seek no […]...
31. The Heart of Night When all the stars are sown Across the night-blue space, With the immense unknown, In silence face to face. We stand in speechless awe While Beauty marches by, And wonder at the Law Which wears such majesty. How small a thing is man In all that world-sown vast, That he should hope or plan Or […]...
32. The Free THEY bathed in the fire-flooded fountains: Life girdled them round and about: They slept in the clefts of the mountains: The stars called them forth with a shout. They prayed, but their worship was only The wonder at nights and at days, As still as the lips of the lonely Though burning with dumbness of […]...
33. Free Verse I now delight In spite Of the might And the right Of classic tradition, In writing And reciting Straight ahead, Without let or omission, Just any little rhyme In any little time That runs in my head; Because, I’ve said, My rhymes no longer shall stand arrayed Like Prussian soldiers on parade That march, Stiff […]...
34. Down from the Mountain As down Mount Emerald at eve I came, The mountain moon went all the way with me. Backward I looked, to see the heights aflame With a pale light that glimmered eerily. A little lad undid the rustic latch As hand in hand your cottage we did gain, Where green limp tendrils at our cloaks […]...
35. My Heart's In The Highlands Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North, The birth-place of Valour, the country of Worth; Wherever I wander, wherever I rove, The hills of the Highlands for ever I love. My heart’s in the Highlands, my heart is not here; My heart’s in the Highlands a-chasing the deer; A-chasing the wild-deer, and following the […]...
36. Rain In My Heart There is a quiet in my heart Like on who rests from days of pain. Outside, the sparrows on the roof Are chirping in the dripping rain. Rain in my heart; rain on the roof; And memory sleeps beneath the gray And the windless sky and brings no dreams Of any well remembered day. I […]...
37. With Rue My Heart Is Laden With rue my heart is laden For golden friends I had, For many a rose-lipt maiden And many a lightfoot lad. By brooks too broad for leaping The lightfoot boys are laid; The rose-lipt girls are sleeping In fields where roses fade....
38. The beekeeper the population controller Slips into disguise His charming suit His veil of words Conceals his gaze He has laid out the fields And filled them with blossoms And counted the money jars In his SimCity slim city Androgyn sharp Bodies are worry perfect Slicked back souped up Cool as drones The neutered ones Will dance […]...
39. PUBLISHERS And then they pretend like owls With marble eyes and wizened stupidity I do not know why they cannot perceive True art But I will write Until sand evaporates And the moon consumes the sun I will write Even for the sake of art For myself and for those who feel Reading could lift them […]...
40. Sonnet 133: Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan For that deep wound it gives my friend and me! Is’t not enough to torture me alone, But slave to slavery my sweet’st friend must be? Me from my self thy cruel eye hath taken, And my next self thou harder hast engrossed. Of him, myself, […]...