A Moments Indulgence

Related poetry:

1. Minstrelsy For ever, since my childish looks Could rest on Nature’s pictured books; For ever, since my childish tongue Could name the themes our bards have sung; So long, the sweetness of their singing Hath been to me a rapture bringing! Yet ask me not the reason why I have delight in minstrelsy. I know that […]...
2. Mammy Hums THIS is the song I rested with: The right shoulder of a strong man I leaned on. The face of the rain that drizzled on the short neck of a canal boat. The eyes of a child who slept while death went over and under. The petals of peony pink that fluttered in a shot […]...
3. Not Heaving from My Ribb’d Breast Only NOT heaving from my ribb’d breast only; Not in sighs at night, in rage, dissatisfied with myself; Not in those long-drawn, ill-supprest sighs; Not in many an oath and promise broken; Not in my wilful and savage soul’s volition; Not in the subtle nourishment of the air; Not in this beating and pounding at my […]...
4. 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 […]...
5. Native Moments NATIVE moments! when you come upon me-Ah you are here now! Give me now libidinous joys only! Give me the drench of my passions! Give me life coarse and rank! To-day, I go consort with nature’s darlings-to-night too; I am for those who believe in loose delights-I share the midnight orgies of young men; I […]...
6. Moments Of Vision That mirror Which makes of men a transparency, Who holds that mirror And bids us such a breast-bare spectacle see Of you and me? That mirror Whose magic penetrates like a dart, Who lifts that mirror And throws our mind back on us, and our heart, Until we start? That mirror Works well in these […]...
7. In these quiet moments In these quiet moments before the night Softens the mountains of the South And deflates the clouds That float beneath their peaks, The dying sun’s rich, peach glow Deepens in the gathering gloom. There, where the mists stretch A false horizon between the sea And the land’s end Aratika glides across the trackless strait And […]...
8. The Soul has Bandaged moments The Soul has Bandaged moments When too appalled to stir She feels some ghastly Fright come up And stop to look at her Salute her with long fingers Caress her freezing hair Sip, Goblin, from the very lips The Lover hovered o’er Unworthy, that a thought so mean Accost a Theme so fair The soul […]...
9. The Argument Of His Book I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers, Of April, May, of June, and July-flowers. I sing of May-poles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes, Of bridegrooms, brides, and of their bridal-cakes. I write of youth, of love, and have access By these to sing of cleanly wantonness. I sing of dews, of rains, and piece by […]...
10. The Wicked Postman Why do you sit there on the floor so quiet and silent, tell me, Mother dear? The rain is coming in through the open window, making you all Wet, and you don’t mind it. Do you hear the gong striking four? It is time for my brother To come home from school. What has happened […]...
11. Midnight Speak to me, aching heart: what Ridiculous errand are you inventing for yourself Weeping in the dark garage With your sack of garbage: it is not your job To take out the garbage, it is your job To empty the dishwasher. You are showing off Again, Exactly as you did in childhood where Is your […]...
12. Face To Face Day after day, O lord of my life, Shall I stand before thee face to face. With folded hands, O lord of all worlds, Shall I stand before thee face to face. Under thy great sky in solitude and silence, With humble heart shall I stand before thee face to face. In this laborious world […]...
13. Said The Poet To The Analyst My business is words. Words are like labels, Or coins, or better, like swarming bees. I confess I am only broken by the sources of things; As if words were counted like dead bees in the attic, Unbuckled from their yellow eyes and their dry wings. I must always forget who one words is able […]...
14. Infelice Walking swiftly with a dreadful duchess, He smiled too briefly, his face was pale as sand, He jumped into a taxi when he saw me coming, Leaving my alone with a private meaning, He loves me so much, my heart is singing. Later at the Club when I rang him in the evening They said: […]...
15. My Bees: An Allegory “O bees, sweet bees!” I said, “that nearest field Is shining white with fragrant immortelles. Fly swiftly there and drain those honey wells.” Then, spicy pines the sunny hive to shield, I set, and patient for the autumn’s yield Of sweet I waited. When the village bells Rang frosty clear, and from their satin cells […]...
16. My Home This is the place that I love the best, A little brown house, like a ground-bird’s nest, Hid among grasses, and vines, and trees, Summer retreat of the birds and bees. The tenderest light that ever was seen Sifts through the vine-made window screen Sifts and quivers, and flits and falls On home-made carpets and […]...
17. Golden Days Another day of toil and strife, Another page so white, Within that fateful Log of Life That I and all must write; Another page without a stain To make of as I may, That done, I shall not see again Until the Judgment Day. Ah, could I, could I backward turn The pages of that […]...
18. Mismet He was leaning by a face, He was looking into eyes, And he knew a trysting-place, And he heard seductive sighs; But the face, And the eyes, And the place, And the sighs, Were not, alas, the right ones the ones meet for him Though fine and sweet the features, and the feelings all abrim. […]...
19. Winter Stores WE take from life one little share, And say that this shall be A space, redeemed from toil and care, From tears and sadness free. And, haply, Death unstrings his bow And Sorrow stands apart, And, for a little while, we know The sunshine of the heart. Existence seems a summer eve, Warm, soft, and […]...
20. Autumn Whoever has no house now will never have one. Whoever is alone will stay alone Will sit, read, write long letters through the evening And wander on the boulevards, up and down… – from Autumn Day, Rainer Maria Rilke Its stain is everywhere. The sharpening air Of late afternoon Is now the colour of tea. […]...
21. In Tall Grass BEES and a honeycomb in the dried head of a horse in a pasture corner-a skull in the tall grass and a buzz and a buzz of the yellow honey-hunters. And I ask no better a winding sheet (over the earth and under the sun.) Let the bees go honey-hunting with yellow blur of wings […]...
22. The Window She looks out in the blue morning And sees a whole wonderful world She looks out in the morning And sees a whole world She leans out of the window And this is what she sees A wet rose singing to the sun With a chorus of red bees She leans out of the window […]...
23. 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 […]...
24. From Sunset to Star Rise Go from me, summer friends, and tarry not: I am no summer friend, but wintry cold, A silly sheep benighted from the fold, A sluggard with a thorn-choked garden plot. Take counsel, sever from my lot your lot, Dwell in your pleasant places, hoard your gold; Lest you with me should shiver on the wold, […]...
25. The House Of Dust: Part 01: 02: One, from his high bright window in a tower One, from his high bright window in a tower, Leans out, as evening falls, And sees the advancing curtain of the shower Splashing its silver on roofs and walls: Sees how, swift as a shadow, it crosses the city, And murmurs beyond far walls to the sea, Leaving a glimmer of water in the dark […]...
26. Bee-attitudes in the shadow Of the flower Is the sting The bee driven by need Uses its painful gift To keep its sense of beauty In proportion It does its job with A thoughtless dedication Its honeyed world Excites no inner space Bees are not poets Who wade through words With too much brain Around their […]...
27. Pigmy seraphs gone astray Pigmy seraphs gone astray Velvet people from Vevay Balles from some lost summer day Bees exclusive Coterie Paris could not lay the fold Belted down with Emerald Venice could not show a check Of a tint so lustrous meek Never such an Ambuscade As of briar and leaf displayed For my little damask maid I […]...
28. 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 […]...
29. Inscription For A Fountain On A Heath This Sycamore, oft musical with bees, Such tents the Patriarchs loved! O long unharmed May all its agйd boughs o’er-canopy The small round basin, which this jutting stone Keeps pure from falling leaves! Long may the Spring, Quietly as a sleeping infant’s breath, Send up cold waters to the traveller With soft and even pulse! […]...
30. Like Flowers, that heard the news of Dews Like Flowers, that heard the news of Dews, But never deemed the dripping prize Awaited their low Brows Or Bees that thought the Summer’s name Some rumor of Delirium, No Summer could for Them Or Arctic Creatures, dimly stirred By Tropic Hint some Travelled Bird Imported to the Wood Or Wind’s bright signal to the […]...
31. What would I give to see his face? What would I give to see his face? I’d give I’d give my life of course But that is not enough! Stop just a minute let me think! I’d give my biggest Bobolink! That makes two Him and Life! You know who “June” is I’d give her Roses a day from Zanzibar And Lily tubes […]...
32. Telling the Bees Here is the place; right over the hill Runs the path I took; You can see the gap in the old wall still, And the stepping-stones in the shallow brook. There is the house, with the gate red-barred, And the poplars tall; And the barn’s brown length, and the cattle-yard, And the white horns tossing […]...
33. Glazunoviana The man with the red hat And the polar bear, is he here too? The window giving on shade, Is that here too? And all the little helps, My initials in the sky, The hay of an arctic summer night? The bear Drops dead in sight of the window. Lovely tribes have just moved to […]...
34. The Dauber In stilly grove beside the sea He mingles colours, measures space; A bronze and breezy man is he, Yet peace is in his face. Behold him stand and longly stare, Till deft of hand and deep of eye He captures on a canvas square The joy of earth and sky. Aloof from servitude and strife, […]...
35. On a Beautiful Landscape Beautiful landscape! I could look on thee For hours, unmindful of the storm and strife, And mingled murmurs of tumultuous life. Here, all is still as fair the stream, the tree, The wood, the sunshine on the bank: no tear No thought of time’s swift wing, or closing night Which comes to steal away the […]...
36. As Sleigh Bells seem in summer As Sleigh Bells seem in summer Or Bees, at Christmas show So fairy so fictitious The individuals do Repealed from observation A Party that we knew More distant in an instant Than Dawn in Timbuctoo....
37. Two Children Two children (small), one Four, one Five, Once saw a bee go in a hive, They’d never seen a bee before! So waited there to see some more. And sure enough along they came A dozen bees (and all the same!) Within the hive they buzzed about; Then, one by one, they all flew out. […]...
38. Absence WHEN from the craggy mountain’s pathless steep, Whose flinty brow hangs o’er the raging sea, My wand’ring eye beholds the foamy deep, I mark the restless surge­and think of THEE. The curling waves, the passing breezes move, Changing and treach’rous as the breath of LOVE; The “sad similitude” awakes my smart, And thy dear image […]...
39. This Bauble was preferred of Bees This Bauble was preferred of Bees By Butterflies admired At Heavenly Hopeless Distances Was justified of Bird Did Noon enamel in Herself Was Summer to a Score Who only knew of Universe It had created Her....
40. THE RECKONING LEADER. LET no cares now hover o’er us Let the wine unsparing run! Wilt thou swell our merry chorus? Hast thou all thy duty done? SOLO. Two young folks the thing is curious Loved each other; yesterday Both quite mild, to-day quite furious, Next day, quite the deuce to pay! If her neck she there […]...