Portland views

Related poetry:

1. The Isle Of Portland The star-filled seas are smooth tonight From France to England strown; Black towers above Portland light The felon-quarried stone. On yonder island; not to rise, Never to stir forth free, Far from his folk a dead lad lies That once was friends with me. Lie you easy, dream you light, And sleep you fast for […]...
2. Now Listen to Me and I'll Tell You My Views Now listen to me and I’ll tell you my views concerning the African war, And the man who upholds any different views, the same is a ritten Pro-Boer! (Though I’m getting a little bit doubtful myself, as it drags on week after week: But it’s better not ask any questions at all let us silence […]...
3. The Little Girl Lost In futurity I prophesy see. That the earth from sleep. (Grave the sentence deep) Shall arise and seek For her maker meek: And the desart wild Become a garden mild. In the southern clime, Where the summers prime Never fades away; Lovely Lyca lay. Seven summers old Lovely Lyca told, She had wandered long. Hearing […]...
4. Lights Out “Lights out” along the land, “Lights out” upon the sea. The night must put her hiding hand O’er peaceful towns where children sleep, And peaceful ships that darkly creep Across the waves, as if they were not free. The dragons of the air, The hell-hounds of the deep, Lurking and prowling everywhere, Go forth to […]...
5. Jerome Each day brings its toad, each night its dragon. Der heilige Hieronymus his lion is at the zoo Listens, listens. All the long, soft, summer day Dreams affright his couch, the deep boils like a pot. As the sun sets, the last patient rises, Says to him, Father, trembles, turns away. Often, to the lion, […]...
6. Crazy Jane Grown Old Looks At The Dancers I found that ivory image there Dancing with her chosen youth, But when he wound her coal-black hair As though to strangle her, no scream Or bodily movement did I dare, Eyes under eyelids did so gleam; Love is like the lion’s tooth. When She, and though some said she played I said that she […]...
7. Making The Lion For All It's Got A Ballad I came home and found a lion in my room… [First draft of “The Lion for Real” CP 174-175] A lion met America In the road They stared at each other Two figures on the crossroads in the desert. America screamed The lion roared They leaped at each other America desperate to win Fighting with […]...
8. The Little Girl Found All the night in woe, Lyca’s parents go: Over vallies deep. While the desarts weep. Tired and woe-begone. Hoarse with making moan: Arm in arm seven days. They trac’d the desert ways. Seven nights they sleep. Among shadows deep: And dream they see their child Starvdd in desart wild. Pale thro’ pathless ways The fancied […]...
9. My Book Before I drink myself to death, God, let me finish up my Book! At night, I fear, I fight for breath, And wake up whiter than a spook; And crawl off to a bistro near, And drink until my brain is clear. Rare Absinthe! Oh, it gives me strength To write and write; and so […]...
10. Security Tomorrow will have an island. Before night I always find it. Then on to the next island. These places hidden in the day separate And come forward if you beckon. But you have to know they are there before they exist. Some time there will be a tomorrow without any island. So far, I haven’t […]...
11. The Revealer (ROOSEVELT) He turned aside to see the carcase of the lion: and behold, there was a swarm of bees and honey in the carcase of the lion… And the men of the city said unto him, What is sweeter than honey? and what is stronger than a lion?-Judges, 14. The palms of Mammon have disowned […]...
12. 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 […]...
13. Clocks HERE is a face that says half-past seven the same way whether a murder or a wedding goes on, whether a funeral or a picnic crowd passes. A tall one I know at the end of a hallway broods in shadows and is watching booze eat out the insides of the man of the house; […]...
14. Hostel Beach, Oneroa The cliff sprang from the sea at end of Hostel Beach, If the tide was out you’d reach a tiny bay beyond The cape without wet feet, an easy stroll but too effete For blood as hot as ours. We watched it at full flood; A risky place to contemplate the games we planned, We […]...
15. The House Of Dust: Part 01: 08: The white fog creeps from the cold sea over the city The white fog creeps from the cold sea over the city, Over the pale grey tumbled towers,- And settles among the roofs, the pale grey walls. Along damp sinuous streets it crawls, Curls like a dream among the motionless trees And seems to freeze. The fog slips ghostlike into a thousand rooms, Whirls over sleeping […]...
16. Saddest Poem I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. Write, for instance: “The night is full of stars, And the stars, blue, shiver in the distance.” The night wind whirls in the sky and sings. I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too. On nights […]...
17. Sleeping at last Sleeping at last, the trouble and tumult over, Sleeping at last, the struggle and horror past, Cold and white, out of sight of friend and of lover, Sleeping at last. No more a tired heart downcast or overcast, No more pangs that wring or shifting fears that hover, Sleeping at last in a dreamless sleep […]...
18. It's Dark in Here I am writing these poems From inside a lion, And it’s rather dark in here. So please excuse the handwriting Which may not be too clear. But this afternoon by the lion’s cage I’m afraid I got too near. And I’m writing these lines From inside a lion, And it’s rather dark in here....
19. Sleep There was a man who didn’t know how to sleep; nodding Off every night into a drab, unprofessional sleep. Sleep that He’d grown so tired of sleeping. He tried reading The Manual of Sleep, but it just put him To sleep. That same old sleep that he had grown so tired of Sleeping. . . […]...
20. Wet City Night Light drunkenly reels into shadow; Blurs, slurs uneasily; Slides off the eyeballs: The segments shatter. Tree-branches cut arc-light in ragged Fluttering wet strips. The cup of the sky-sign is filled too full; It slushes wine over. The street-lamps dance a tarentella And zigzag down the street: They lift and fly away In a wind of […]...
21. Ode To The Only Girl I’ve seen you many times in many places Theater, bus, train, or on the street; Smiling in spring rain, in winter sleet, Eyes of any hue in myriad faces; Midnight black, all shades of brown your hair, Long, short, bronze or honey-fair. Instantly have I loved, have never spoken; Slowly a truck passed, a light […]...
22. Bad for ears the song wasn’t up to the task Of getting through the double-glazing Into the ears pressed on the outside pane The rest of their bodies had faded away but The ears were straining still towards the music In order to know the good times being had in the room Night fell the cold grew and […]...
23. She bore it till the simple veins She bore it till the simple veins Traced azure on her hand Til pleading, round her quiet eyes The purple Crayons stand. Till Daffodils had come and gone I cannot tell the sum, And then she ceased to bear it And with the Saints sat down. No more her patient figure At twilight soft to […]...
24. Bus Stop Lights are burning In quiet rooms Where lives go on Resembling ours. The quiet lives That follow us – These lives we lead But do not own – Stand in the rain So quietly When we are gone, So quietly. . . And the last bus Comes letting dark Umbrellas out – Black flowers, black […]...
25. The Lion If you’re attacked by a Lion Find fresh underpants to try on Lay on the ground quite still Pretend you are very ill Keep like that day after day Perhaps the lion will go away...
26. By the Bivouac's Fitful Flame BY the bivouac’s fitful flame, A procession winding around me, solemn and sweet and slow;-but first I note, The tents of the sleeping army, the fields’ and woods’ dim outline, The darkness, lit by spots of kindled fire-the silence; Like a phantom far or near an occasional figure moving; The shrubs and trees, (as I […]...
27. Harlem Shadows I hear the halting footsteps of a lass In Negro Harlem when the night lets fall Its veil. I see the shapes of girls who pass To bend and barter at desire’s call. Ah, little dark girls who in slippered feet Go prowling through the night from street to street! Through the long night until […]...
28. The Lion The Lion, the Lion, he dwells in the Waste, He has a big head and a very small waist; But his shoulders are stark, and his jaws they are grim, And a good little child will not play with him....
29. The School of Night What did I study in your School of Night? When your mouth’s first unfathomable yes Opened your body to be my book, I read My answers there and learned the spell aright, Yet, though I searched and searched, could never guess What spirits it raised nor where their questions led. Those others, familiar tenants of […]...
30. They Feed They Lion Out of burlap sacks, out of bearing butter, Out of black bean and wet slate bread, Out of the acids of rage, the candor of tar, Out of creosote, gasoline, drive shafts, wooden dollies, They Lion grow. Out of the gray hills Of industrial barns, out of rain, out of bus ride, West Virginia to […]...
31. The Lamplighter My tea is nearly ready and the sun has left the sky. It’s time to take the window to see Leerie going by; For every night at teatime and before you take your seat, With lantern and with ladder he comes posting up the street. Now Tom would be a driver and Maria go to […]...
32. Saturday Morning Everyone who made love the night before Was walking around with flashing red lights On top of their heads-a white-haired old gentlemen, A red-faced schoolboy, a pregnant woman Who smiled at me from across the street And gave a little secret shrug, As if the flashing red light on her head Was a small price […]...
33. Real Estate News ARMOUR AVENUE was the name of this street and door signs on empty houses read “The Silver Dollar,” “Swede Annie” and the Christian names of madams such as “Myrtle” and “Jenny.” Scrap iron, rags and bottles fill the front rooms hither and yon and signs in Yiddish say Abe Kaplan & Co. are running junk […]...
34. Authorship You say that father write a lot of books, but what he write I don’t Understand. He was reading to you all the evening, but could you really Make out what he meant? What nice stores, mother, you can tell us! Why can’t father Write like that, I wonder? Did he never hear from his […]...
35. Last Night As I Was Sleeping Last night as I was sleeping, I dreamt-marvelous error!- That a spring was breaking Out in my heart. I said: Along which secret aqueduct, Oh water, are you coming to me, Water of a new life That I have never drunk? Last night as I was sleeping, I dreamt-marvelous error!- That I had a beehive […]...
36. Cacoethes Scribendi If all the trees in all the woods were men; And each and every blade of grass a pen; If every leaf on every shrub and tree Turned to a sheet of foolscap; every sea Were changed to ink, and all earth’s living tribes Had nothing else to do but act as scribes, And for […]...
37. Night Movement-New York IN the night, when the sea-winds take the city in their arms, And cool the loud streets that kept their dust noon and afternoon; In the night, when the sea-birds call to the lights of the city, The lights that cut on the skyline their name of a city; In the night, when the trains […]...
38. The Lion and the Lamb I saw a Tiger’s golden flank, I saw what food he ate, By a desert spring he drank; The Tiger’s name was Hate. Then I saw a placid Lamb Lying fast asleep; Like a river from its dam Flashed the Tiger’s leap. I saw a lion tawny-red, Terrible and brave; The Tiger’s leap overhead Broke […]...
39. Bruise blue Frail as smoke, she drifts through the crowded train, bringing with her the cold ashes of poverty. Without a word, her bruise-blue eyes try to niggle each passenger to part with coins or a note. The sign pleads her story: Three children in foster care. Like promises of happier times, some passengers toss hard-edged confetti […]...
40. The Boiling Water A serious moment for the water is when it boils And though one usually regards it merely as a convenience To have the boiling water available for bath or table Occasionally there is someone Around who understands The importance of this moment for the water-maybe a saint, Maybe a poet, maybe a crazy man, or […]...