Waterfalls of Jack and a soft shoe shuffle

Related poetry:

1. Jack's Legacy The critic gushed and said, “Just like Jack, So raw, I never thought to see another writer just Like Kerouac!” Kerouac, who the fuck is he? A writer? Christ, that’s a laugh, compare me to a writer! Let’s face it I’m no hack, I’m not so much to look at either, But maybe Jack took […]...
2. Jack Dunn of Nevertire It chanced upon the very day we’d got the shearing done, A buggy brought a stranger to the West-o’-Sunday Run; He had a round and jolly face, and he was sleek and stout, He drove right up between the huts and called the super out. We chaps were smoking after tea, and heard the swell […]...
3. Jack Honest, or the Widow and Her Son Jack Honest was only eight years of age when his father died, And by the death of his father, Mrs Honest was sorely tried; And Jack was his father’s only joy and pride, And for honesty Jack couldn’t be equalled in the country-side. So a short time before Jack’s father died, ‘Twas loud and bitterly […]...
4. Jack – beyond the digits so here we are at last at the ten-boy Never to be the single-figure-aged-again boy And all the trailing clouds that cling to the not-big child Can be blown away – you’re up in your own sky now Clear-blue on some days (if on others windy and wild) Now you’ll have to see yourself as […]...
5. Blind Jack I had fiddled all day at the county fair. But driving home “Butch” Weldy and Jack McGuire, Who were roaring full, made me fiddle and fiddle To the song of Susie Skinner, while whipping the horses Till they ran away. Blind as I was, I tried to get out As the carriage fell in the […]...
6. My Boy Jack 1914-18 Have you news of my boy Jack?” Not this tide. “When d’you think that he’ll come back?” Not with this wind blowing, and this tide. “Has any one else had word of him?: “ Not this tide. For what is sunk will hardly swim, Not with this wind blowing, and this tide. “Oh, dear, […]...
7. Jack JACK was a swarthy, swaggering son-of-a-gun. He worked thirty years on the railroad, ten hours a day, And his hands were tougher than sole leather. He married a tough woman and they had eight children And the woman died and the children grew up and Went away and wrote the old man every two years. […]...
8. The Steeple-Jack Dürer would have seen a reason for living in a town like this, with eight stranded whales To look at; with the sweet sea air coming into your house On a fine day, from water etched with waves as formal as the scales On a fish. One by one in two’s and three’s, the seagulls […]...
9. Modern Love XVIII: Here Jack and Tom Here Jack and Tom are paired with Moll and Meg. Curved open to the river-reach is seen A country merry-making on the green. Fair space for signal shakings of the leg. That little screwy fiddler from his booth, Whence flows one nut-brown stream, commands the joints Of all who caper here at various points. I […]...
10. If I Forget Thee, Jerusalem If I forget thee, Jerusalem, Then let my right be forgotten. Let my right be forgotten, and my left remember. Let my left remember, and your right close And your mouth open near the gate. I shall remember Jerusalem And forget the forest my love will remember, Will open her hair, will close my window, […]...
11. Remember Remember me when I am gone away, Gone far away into the silent land; When you can no more hold me by the hand, Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay. Remember me when no more day by day You tell me of our future that you plann’d: Only remember me; you understand […]...
12. Jack McGuire They would have lynched me Had I not been secretly hurried away To the jail at Peoria. And yet I was going peacefully home, Carrying my jug, a little drunk, When Logan, the marshal, halted me, Called me a drunken hound and shook me, And, when I cursed him for it, struck me With that […]...
13. I Remember, I Remember I Remember, I Remember I remember, I remember The house where I was born, The little window where the sun Came peeping in at morn; He never came a wink too soon Nor brought too long a day; But now, I often wish the night Had borne my breath away. I remember, I remember The […]...
14. Of Silken Speech and Specious Shoe Of Silken Speech and Specious Shoe A Traitor is the Bee His service to the newest Grace Present continually His Suit a chance His Troth a Term Protracted as the Breeze Continual Ban propoundeth He Continual Divorce....
15. Shuffle-Shoon and Amber-Locks Shuffle-Shoon and Amber-Locks Sit together, building blocks; Shuffle-Shoon is old and grey, Amber-Locks a little child, But together at their play Age and Youth are reconciled, And with sympathetic glee Build their castles fair to see. “When I grow to be a man” (So the wee one’s prattle ran), “I shall build a castle so […]...
16. The Gold Key The speaker in this case Is a middle-aged witch, me- Tangled on my two great arms, My face in a book And my mouth wide, Ready to tell you a story or two. I have come to remind you, All of you: Alice, Samuel, Kurt, Eleanor, Jane, Brian, Maryel, All of you draw near. Alice, […]...
17. Sad-Eyed and Soft and Grey Sad-Eyed and soft and grey thou art, o morn! Across the long grass of the marshy plain Thy west wind whispers of the coming rain, Thy lark forgets that May is grown forlorn Above the lush blades of the springing corn, Thy thrush within the high elms strives in vain To store up tales of […]...
18. Crazy Jane And Jack The Journeyman I know, although when looks meet I tremble to the bone, The more I leave the door unlatched The sooner love is gone, For love is but a skein unwound Between the dark and dawn. A lonely ghost the ghost is That to God shall come; I – love’s skein upon the ground, My body […]...
19. Yvonne Of Brittany In your mother’s apple-orchard, Just a year ago, last spring: Do you remember, Yvonne! The dear trees lavishing Rain of their starry blossoms To make you a coronet? Do you ever remember, Yvonne, As I remember yet? In your mother’s apple-orchard, When the world was left behind: You were shy, so shy, Yvonne! But your […]...
20. Dow Kritt Samuel is forever talking of his elm But I did not need to die to learn about roots: I, who dug all the ditches about Spoon River. Look at my elm! Sprung from as good a seed as his, Sown at the same time, It is dying at the top: Not from lack of life, […]...
21. Heart! We will forget him! Heart! We will forget him! You and I tonight! You may forget the warmth he gave I will forget the light! When you have done, pray tell me That I may straight begin! Haste! lest while you’re lagging I remember him!...
22. The Methodist Says Tom to Jack, ’tis very odd, These representatives of God, In color, way of life and evil, Should be so very like the devil. Jack, understand, was one of those, Who mould religion in the rose, A red hot methodist; his face Was full of puritanic grace, His loose lank hair, his slow gradation, […]...
23. WELCOME HOME ‘Leeds welcomes you’ in flowers Garlanding the white stuccoed tower Of City Station: red on green As poetry’s demon seizes me, Upending all ordures of order. ‘Haworth Moor, Haworth Moor’ Echoes and re-echoes under the Dark Arches Where the Aire gurgles and swirls In eddies of Jack the Ripper, cloud-hopping Jumping Jack Flash but Jack’s […]...
24. By the Spring, at Sunset Sometimes we remember kisses, Remember the dear heart-leap when they came: Not always, but sometimes we remember The kindness, the dumbness, the good flame Of laughter and farewell. Beside the road Afar from those who said “Good-by” I write, Far from my city task, my lawful load. Sun in my face, wind beside my shoulder, […]...
25. Since Then I met Jack Ellis in town to-day Jack Ellis my old mate, Jack Ten years ago, from the Castlereagh, We carried our swags together away To the Never-Again, Out Back. But times have altered since those old days, And the times have changed the men. Ah, well! there’s little to blame or praise Jack Ellis […]...
26. Air Naturally it is night. Under the overturned lute with its One string I am going my way Which has a strange sound. This way the dust, that way the dust. I listen to both sides But I keep right on. I remember the leaves sitting in judgment And then winter. I remember the rain with […]...
27. How soft this Prison is How soft this Prison is How sweet these sullen bars No Despot but the King of Down Invented this repose Of Fate if this is All Has he no added Realm A Dungeon but a Kinsman is Incarceration Home....
28. The Daisy follows soft the Sun The Daisy follows soft the Sun And when his golden walk is done Sits shyly at his feet He waking finds the flower there Wherefore Marauder art thou here? Because, Sir, love is sweet! We are the Flower Thou the Sun! Forgive us, if as days decline We nearer steal to Thee! Enamored of the […]...
29. Music, When Soft Voices Die Music, when soft voices die, Vibrates in the memory Odours, when sweet violets sicken, Live within the sense they quicken. Rose leaves, when the rose is dead, Are heaped for the beloved’s bed; And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone, Love itself shall slumber on....
30. What Soft Cherubic Creatures What Soft Cherubic Creatures These Gentlewomen are One would as soon assault a Plush Or violate a Star Such Dimity Convictions A Horror so refined Of freckled Human Nature Of Deity ashamed It’s such a common Glory A Fisherman’s Degree Redemption Brittle Lady Be so ashamed of Thee...
31. How soft a Caterpillar steps How soft a Caterpillar steps I fond one on my Hand From such a velvet world it comes Such plushes at command Its soundless travels just arrest My slow terrestrial eye Intent upon its own career What use has it for me...
32. A soft Sea washed around the House A soft Sea washed around the House A Sea of Summer Air And rose and fell the magic Planks That sailed without a care For Captain was the Butterfly For Helmsman was the Bee And an entire universe For the delighted crew....
33. I Am The People, The Mob I AM the people the mob the crowd the mass. Do you know that all the great work of the world is Done through me? I am the workingman, the inventor, the maker of the World’s food and clothes. I am the audience that witnesses history. The Napoleons Come from me and the Lincolns. They […]...
34. The best days of my life What is it about Bryan Adams and his song ‘Summer of 69’? Why do the lyrics linger? Was it 90° in the shade and the harbinger of the end Of the golden weather, or the impending closure Of a glorious decade? He should have called it ‘The best days of my life’, it would have […]...
35. On the Soft and Gentle Motions of Eudora DIvine Thalia strike th’Harmonious Lute, But with a Stroke so Gentle as may sute The silent gliding of the Howers, Or yet the calmer growth of Flowers; Th’ascending or the falling Dew, Which none can see, though all find true. For thus alone, Can be shewn, How downie, how smooth, Eudora doth Move, How Silken […]...
36. By All Love's Soft, Yet Mighty Powers By all love’s soft, yet mighty powers, It is a thing unfit, That men should fuck in time of flowers, Or when the smock’s beshit. Fair nasty nymph, be clean and kind, And all my joys restore; By using paper still behind, And sponges for before. My spotless flames can ne’er decay, If after every […]...
37. The Story of Uriah Jack Barrett went to Quetta Because they told him to. He left his wife at Simla On three-fourths his monthly screw. Jack Barrett died at Quetta Ere the next month’s pay he drew. Jack Barrett went to Quetta. He didn’t understand The reason of his transfer From the pleasant mountain-land. The season was September, And […]...
38. Sonnet XIV: Come, Soft Aeolian Harp Come, soft Aeolian harp, while zephyr plays Along the meek vibration of thy strings, As twilight’s hand her modest mantle brings, Blending with sober grey, the western blaze! O! prompt my Phaon’s dreams with tend’rest lays, Ere night o’er shade thee with its humid wings, While the lorn Philomel his sorrow sings In leafy cradle, […]...
39. Horse Fiddle FIRST I would like to write for you a poem to be shouted in the teeth of a strong wind. Next I would like to write one for you to sit on a hill and read down the river valley on a late summer afternoon, reading it in less than a whisper to Jack on […]...
40. Jack London and O. Henry BOTH were jailbirds; no speechmakers at all; speaking best with one foot on a brass rail; a beer glass in the left hand and the right hand employed for gestures. And both were lights snuffed out… no warning… no lingering: Who knew the hearts of these boozefighters?...