Equanimity

Related poetry:

1. Song of the Artesian Water Now the stock have started dying, for the Lord has sent a drought; But we’re sick of prayers and Providence we’re going to do without; With the derricks up above us and the solid earth below, We are waiting at the lever for the word to let her go. Sinking down, deeper down, Oh, we’ll […]...
2. My Nose Is Growing Old Yup. A long lazy September look In the mirror Say it’s true. I’m 31 And my nose is growing Old. It starts about 1/2 An inch Below the bridge And strolls geriatrically Down For another inch or so: Stopping. Fortunately, the rest Of the nose is comparatively Young. I wonder if girls Will want me […]...
3. A Calendar of Sonnets: October The month of carnival of all the year, When Nature lets the wild earth go its way, And spend whole seasons on a single day. The spring-time holds her white and purple dear; October, lavish, flaunts them far and near; The summer charily her reds doth lay Like jewels on her costliest array; October, scornful, […]...
4. October's Bright Blue Weather O suns and skies and clouds of June, And flowers of June together, Ye cannot rival for one hour October’s bright blue weather; When loud the bumblebee makes haste, Belated, thriftless vagrant, And goldenrod is dying fast, And lanes with grapes are fragrant; When gentians roll their fingers tight To save them for the morning, […]...
5. When The Year Grows Old I cannot but remember When the year grows old- October-November- How she disliked the cold! She used to watch the swallows Go down across the sky, And turn from the window With a little sharp sigh. And often when the brown leaves Were brittle on the ground, And the wind in the chimney Made a […]...
6. Minerva Jones I am Minerva, the village poetess, Hooted at, jeered at by the Yahoos of the street For my heavy body, cock-eye, and rolling walk, And all the more when “Butch” Weldy Captured me after a brutal hunt. He left me to my fate with Doctor Meyers; And I sank into death, growing numb from the […]...
7. To What Shall I Compare Her? TO what shall I compare her, That is as fair as she? For she is fairer – fairer Than the sea. What shall be likened to her, The sainted of my youth? For she is truer – truer Than the truth. As the stars are from the sleeper, Her heart is hid from me; For […]...
8. Colours in lamplight Colours in lamplight are previews, Scarcely eschewed as wave-length turbulence Tuned to closeness and friendship. Colours in firelight are skin-warmed Glowings, harbouring contentment, Revealing intuitive insight. Colours in moonlight are barely shown Shy smiles recalled with eidetic Intensity from reservoirs of sight. Colours in candlelight are filigree Reflections, decorative shimmers Of sympathetic enchantment. But in […]...
9. A Bunch of Roses Roses ruddy and roses white, What are the joys that my heart discloses? Sitting alone in the fading light Memories come to me here tonight With the wonderful scent of the big red roses. Memories come as the daylight fades Down on the hearth where the firelight dozes; Flicker and flutter the lights and shades, […]...
10. You'll love me yet!-and I can tarry You’ll love me yet!-and I can tarry Your love’s protracted growing: June reared that bunch of flowers you carry From seeds of April’s sowing. I plant a heartful now: some seed At least is sure to strike, And yield-what you’ll not pluck indeed, Not love, but, may be, like! You’ll look at least on love’s […]...
11. A Bushman's Song I’M travellin’ down the Castlereagh, and I’m a station hand, I’m handy with the ropin’ pole, I’m handy with the brand, And I can ride a rowdy colt, or swing the axe all day, But there’s no demand for a station-hand along the Castlereagh. + So it’s shift, boys, shift, for there isn’t the slightest […]...
12. The Cow-Juice Cure The clover was in blossom, an’ the year was at the June, When Flap-jack Billy hit the town, likewise O’Flynn’s saloon. The frost was on the fodder an’ the wind was growin’ keen, When Billy got to seein’ snakes in Sullivan’s shebeen. Then in meandered Deep-hole Dan, once comrade of the cup: “Oh Billy, for […]...
13. The Wood-Pile Out walking in the frozen swamp one gray day I paused and said, ‘I will turn back from here. No, I will go on farther – and we shall see’. The hard snow held me, save where now and then One foot went through. The view was all in lines Straight up and down of […]...
14. Daughter leaves and leaving call october home Her daughter releases wood Smoke from her skin Rich in scorpio Blood survived the first Flood each new year marks A circle around her Thick bark middle This the month summer and Winter fall into each Other and leave orange Yellow ashes The vibrancy of death Carry it all […]...
15. Stone Shadows For an entire year she dressed in all the shades Of ash – the gray of old paper; the deeper, Almost auburn ash of pencil boxes; the dark, nearly Black marl of oak beds pulled from burning houses. That year, even her hair itself was woven With an ashen white, just single threads here & […]...
16. Sorrow's Uses The uses of sorrow I comprehend Better and better at each year’s end. Deeper and deeper I seem to see Why and wherefore it has to be Only after the dark, wet days Do we fully rejoice in the sun’s bright rays. Sweeter the crust tastes after the fast Than the sated gourmand’s finest repast. […]...
17. Up Life's Hill with my my little Bundle Up Life’s Hill with my my little Bundle If I prove it steep If a Discouragement withhold me If my newest step Older feel than the Hope that prompted Spotless be from blame Heart that proposed as Heart that accepted Homelessness, for Home...
18. The Things that never can come back, are several The Things that never can come back, are several Childhood some forms of Hope the Dead Though Joys like Men may sometimes make a Journey And still abide We do not mourn for Traveler, or Sailor, Their Routes are fair But think enlarged of all that they will tell us Returning here “Here!” There are […]...
19. Films I HAVE kept all, not one is thrown away, not one given to the ragman, not one thrust in a corner with a “P-f-f.” The red ones and the blue, the long ones in stripes, and each of the little black and white checkered ones. Keep them: I tell my heart: keep them another year, […]...
20. Any Night Look, the eucalyptus, the Atlas pine, The yellowing ash, all the trees Are gone, and I was older than All of them. I am older than the moon, Than the stars that fill my plate, Than the unseen planets that huddle Together here at the end of a year No one wanted. A year more […]...
21. Sonnet XIX: You Cannot Love To Humor You cannot love, my pretty heart, and why? There was a time you told me that you would; But now again you will the same deny, If it might please you, would to God you could. What, will you hate? Nay, that you will not, neither. Nor love nor hate, how then? What […]...
22. 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 […]...
23. A Tribute to Mr Murphy and the Blue Ribbon Army All hail to Mr Murphy, he is a hero brave, That has crossed the mighty Atlantic wave, For what purpose let me pause and think- I answer, to warn the people not to taste strong drink. And, I’m sure, if they take his advice, they never will rue The day they joined the Blue Ribbon […]...
24. The pungent atom in the Air The pungent atom in the Air Admits of no debate All that is named of Summer Days Relinquished our Estate For what Department of Delight As positive are we As Limit of Dominion Or Dams of Ecstasy...
25. After the rain Resurgent greens and stronger hues Combined within the colours in-between Will spring again, the reddish brown Has nearly gone and all the silver Greys erased in darker shades That shine with slickly natured stains After the gentle, gentle rain. Clouded skies unite and demonize The dry and dusty plight of days of brutal Beating sun […]...
26. Reading the Obituaries Now the Barbaras have begun to die, Trailing their older sisters to the grave, The Helens, Margies, Nans-who said goodbye Just days ago, it seems, taking their leave A step or two behind the hooded girls Who bloomed and withered with the century- The Dorotheas, Eleanors and Pearls Now swaying on the edge of memory. […]...
27. BOIREANN They are both old Boireann and her She wants to remain in the car Hunched Regarding the other Through the smear of a window The intrusion of a wing mirror mars A romance of meddled limestone A partial view Yet she is content Because she sees Even when these days Rooks overhead look crimson One […]...
28. It don't sound so terrible quite as it did It don’t sound so terrible quite as it did I run it over “Dead”, Brain, “Dead.” Put it in Latin left of my school Seems it don’t shriek so under rule. Turn it, a little full in the face A Trouble looks bitterest Shift it just Say “When Tomorrow comes this way I shall have […]...
29. Hearthside Half across the world from me Lie the lands I’ll never see- I, whose longing lives and dies Where a ship has sailed away; I, that never close my eyes But to look upon Cathay. Things I may not know nor tell Wait, where older waters swell; Ways that flowered at Sappho’s tread, Winds that […]...
30. 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 […]...
31. Astrophel And Stella-Sonnet LIV Because I breathe not love to every one, Nor do not use set colours for to wear, Nor nourish special locks of vowed hair, Nor give each speech a full point of a groan, The courtly nymphs, acquainted with the moan Of them who in their lips Love’s standard bear, “What, he!” say they of […]...
32. A Spell before Winter After the red leaf and the gold have gone, Brought down by the wind, then by hammering rain Bruised and discolored, when October’s flame Goes blue to guttering in the cusp, this land Sinks deeper into silence, darker into shade. There is a knowledge in the look of things, The old hills hunch before the […]...
33. Dawning There are hours when every thing creaks When chairs stretch their arms, tables their legs And closets crack their backs, incautiously Fed up with the polite fantasy Of having to stay in one place And stick to their stations Humans too, at work, or in love Know such aches and growing pains When inner furnishings […]...
34. LONDON ROSES “ROWSES, Rowses! Penny a bunch!” they tell you Slattern girls in Trafalgar, eager to sell you. Roses, roses, red in the Kensington sun, Holland Road, High Street, Bayswater, see you and smell you Roses of London town, red till the summer is done. Roses, roses, locust and lilac, perfuming West End, East End, wondrously budding […]...
35. Shocked the cupboard was done up On the outside In the brightest of colours The house it was part of Was filled each day With its loud exclamations The sun looked in gladly One morning and Fled (incredibly) dazzled Puzzled the people stared Up at the sun Nursing cursing its blindness And many rumours spread….. A […]...
36. October O hushed October morning mild, Thy leaves have ripened to the fall; Tomorrow’s wind, if it be wild, Should waste them all. The crows above the forest call; Tomorrow they may form and go. O hushed October morning mild, Begin the hours of this day slow. Make the day seem to us less brief. Hearts […]...
37. And do you think that love itself And do you think that love itself, Living in such an ugly house, Can prosper long? We meet and part; Our talk is all of heres and nows, Our conduct likewise; in no act Is any future, any past; Under our sly, unspoken pact, I KNOW with whom I saw you last, But I say […]...
38. And This Will be All? AND this will be all? And the gates will never open again? And the dust and the wind will play around the rusty door hinges and the songs of October moan, Why-oh, why-oh? And you will look to the mountains And the mountains will look to you And you will wish you were a mountain […]...
39. Muckers TWENTY men stand watching the muckers. Stabbing the sides of the ditch Where clay gleams yellow, Driving the blades of their shovels Deeper and deeper for the new gas mains Wiping sweat off their faces With red bandanas The muckers work on. . pausing. . to pull Their boots out of suckholes where they slosh. […]...
40. Joys of the chase Colours fade into nameless shades of grey And where the tonsure of bas-relief crudely Stands effete, semantic symbolism degrades Into meaninglessness. The artefacts of an old Existence deny you humanity but you don’t Recognise them anyway, they are not bound To objects of power that belay access to reason. In this flat world of monochrome […]...