Thread

Related poetry:

1. Marine Snow At Mid-Depths And Down As you descend, slowly, falling faster past You this snow, Ghostly, some flakes bio- Luminescent (you plunge, And this lit snow doesn’t land At your feet but keeps falling below You): single-cell-plant chains, shreds Of zooplankton’s mucus food traps, Fish fecal pellets, radioactive fallouts, Sand grains, pollen….And inside These jagged falling islands Live more microlives, […]...
2. Tremble Her predatory eye, The single feral iris, Scans. Her raptor beak, All jagged sharp-edged thrust, Juts. Her hard talon, Clenched in pinched expectation, Waits. Her clipped wings, Preened against reality, Tremble. Originally published by The Lyric...
3. Cold-Blooded Creatures Man, the egregious egoist (In mystery the twig is bent) Imagines, by some mental twist, That he alone is sentient Of the intolerable load That on all living creatures lies, Nor stoops to pity in the toad The speechless sorrow of his eyes. He asks no questions of the snake, Nor plumbs the phosphorescent gloom […]...
4. The Red Blaze is the Morning The Red Blaze is the Morning The Violet is Noon The Yellow Day is falling And after that is none But Miles of Sparks at Evening Reveal the Width that burned The Territory Argent that Never yet consumed...
5. Five Flights Up Still dark. The unknown bird sits on his usual branch. The little dog next door barks in his sleep Inquiringly, just once. Perhaps in his sleep, too, the bird inquires Once or twice, quavering. Questions if that is what they are Answered directly, simply, By day itself. Enormous morning, ponderous, meticulous; Gray light streaking each […]...
6. The Thread Something is very gently, Invisibly, silently, Pulling at me-a thread Or net of threads Finer than cobweb and as Elastic. I haven’t tried The strength of it. No barbed hook Pierced and tore me. Was it Not long ago this thread Began to draw me? Or Way back? Was I Born with its knot about […]...
7. Don't put up my Thread and Needle Don’t put up my Thread and Needle I’ll begin to Sew When the Birds begin to whistle Better Stitches so These were bent my sight got crooked When my mind is plain I’ll do seams a Queen’s endeavor Would not blush to own Hems too fine for Lady’s tracing To the sightless Knot Tucks of […]...
8. The Thread of Truth Truth is a golden thread, seen here and there In small bright specks upon the visible side Of our strange being’s parti-coloured web. How rich the universe! ‘Tis a vein of ore Emerging now and then on Earth’s rude breast, But flowing full below. Like islands set At distant intervals on Ocean’s face, We see […]...
9. Daybreak In Alabama When I get to be a composer I’m gonna write me some music about Daybreak in Alabama And I’m gonna put the purtiest songs in it Rising out of the ground like a swamp mist And falling out of heaven like soft dew. I’m gonna put some tall tall trees in it And the scent […]...
10. The Snapped Thread Desire, first, by a natural miracle United bodies, united hearts, blazed beauty; Transcended bodies, transcended hearts. Two souls, now unalterably one In whole love always and for ever, Soar out of twilight, through upper air, Let fall their sensous burden. Is it kind, though, is it honest even, To consort with none but spirits- Leaving […]...
11. The Thread of Life I The irresponsive silence of the land, The irresponsive sounding of the sea, Speak both one message of one sense to me: Aloof, aloof, we stand aloof, so stand Thou too aloof bound with the flawless band Of inner solitude; we bind not thee; But who from thy self-chain shall set thee free? What heart […]...
12. Weird-Bird Birds are flyin’ south for winter. Here’s the Weird-Bird headin’ north, Wings a-flappin’, beak a-chatterin’, Cold head bobbin’ back ‘n’ forth. He says, “It’s not that I like ice Or freezin’ winds and snowy ground. It’s just sometimes it’s kind of nice To be the only bird in town.”...
13. Elusive wisdom thoth (who became hermes who became mercury) Who was both moon and wisdom to the egyptians Manifested himself mainly as an ibis – a watery bird A restless creature that could not stop searching Through marshy ground with its sickle-shaped beak So to the christians the bird became a scavenger The worst sinner from whom […]...
14. Her smile was shaped like other smiles Her smile was shaped like other smiles The Dimples ran along And still it hurt you, as some Bird Did hoist herself, to sing, Then recollect a Ball, she got And hold upon the Twig, Convulsive, while the Music broke Like Beads among the Bog...
15. Some Like Poetry Write it. Write. In ordinary ink On ordinary paper: they were given no food, They all died of hunger. “All. How many? It’s a big meadow. How much grass For each one?” Write: I don’t know. History counts its skeletons in round numbers. A thousand and one remains a thousand, As though the one had […]...
16. Invitation To Miss Marianne Moore From Brooklyn, over the Brooklyn Bridge, on this fine morning, please come flying. In a cloud of fiery pale chemicals, please come flying, To the rapid rolling of thousands of small blue drums Descending out of the mackerel sky Over the glittering grandstand of harbor-water, please come flying. Whistles, pennants and smoke are blowing. The […]...
17. The most triumphant Bird I ever knew or met The most triumphant Bird I ever knew or met Embarked upon a twig today And till Dominion set I famish to behold so eminent a sight And sang for nothing scrutable But intimate Delight. Retired, and resumed his transitive Estate To what delicious Accident Does finest Glory fit!...
18. The Room Through that window-all else being extinct Except itself and me-I saw the struggle Of darkness against darkness. Within the room It turned and turned, dived downward. Then I saw How order might-if chaos wished-become: And saw the darkness crush upon itself, Contracting powerfully; it was as if It killed itself, slowly: and with much pain. […]...
19. Amoretti III: The Sovereign Beauty The sovereign beauty which I do admire, Witness the world how worthy to be praised: The light whereof hath kindled heavenly fire In my frail spirit, by her from baseness raised; That being now with her huge brightness dazed, Base thing I can no more endure to view; But looking still on her, I stand […]...
20. The Doomed regard the Sunrise The Doomed regard the Sunrise With different Delight Because when next it burns abroad They doubt to witness it The Man to die tomorrow Harks for the Meadow Bird Because its Music stirs the Axe That clamors for his head Joyful to whom the Sunrise Precedes Enamored Day Joyful for whom the Meadow Bird Has […]...
21. Glycine's Song A sunny shaft did I behold, From sky to earth it slanted: And poised therein a bird so bold Sweet bird, thou wert enchanted! He sank, he rose, he twinkled, he troll’d Within that shaft of sunny mist; His eyes of fire, his beak of gold, All else of amethyst! And thus he sang: ‘Adieu! […]...
22. Talisman it is written The act of writing is Holy words are Sacred and your breath Brings out the God in them I write these words Quickly repeat them Softly to myself This talisman for you Fold this prayer Around your neck fortify Your back with these Whispers May you walk ever Loved and in love […]...
23. Crow's Fall When Crow was white he decided the sun was too white. He decided it glared much too whitely. He decided to attack it and defeat it. He got his strength up flush and in full glitter. He clawed and fluffed his rage up. He aimed his beak direct at the sun’s centre. He laughed himself […]...
24. Tцrnfallet There is a meadow in Sweden Where I lie smitten, Eyes stained with clouds’ White ins and outs. And about that meadow Roams my widow Plaiting a clover Wreath for her lover. I took her in marriage In a granite parish. The snow lent her whiteness, A pine was a witness. She’d swim in the […]...
25. The Swan Did you too see it, drifting, all night, on the black river? Did you see it in the morning, rising into the silvery air – An armful of white blossoms, A perfect commotion of silk and linen as it leaned Into the bondage of its wings; a snowbank, a bank of lilies, Biting the air […]...
26. The bouncing spider schnyder schnyder The bouncing spider Had a song Wound up inside her She’d had it taped On a silken spool This was the song She sang as a rule O little fly Come be my friend I have fly’s gold For you to spend I’ll wrap you in silks To make you pretty If you […]...
27. The earth has many keys The earth has many keys, Where melody is not Is the unknown peninsula. Beauty is nature’s fact. But witness for her land, And witness for her sea, The cricket is her utmost Of elegy to me....
28. The Source There in the fringe of trees between The upper field and the edge of the one Below it that runs above the valley One time I heard in the early Days of summer the clear ringing Six notes that I knew were the opening Of the Fingal’s Cave Overture I heard them again and again […]...
29. The Black Swan When the swans turned my sister into a swan I would go to the lake, at night, from milking: The sun would look out through the reeds like a swan, A swan’s red beak; and the beak would open And inside there was darkness, the stars and the moon. Out on the lake, a girl […]...
30. Bat At evening, sitting on this terrace, When the sun from the west, beyond Pisa, beyond the mountains of Carrara Departs, and the world is taken by surprise… When the tired flower of Florence is in gloom beneath the glowing Brown hills surrounding… When under the arches of the Ponte Vecchio A green light enters against […]...
31. Impression – Le Reveillon The sky is laced with fitful red, The circling mists and shadows flee, The dawn is rising from the sea, Like a white lady from her bed. And jagged brazen arrows fall Athwart the feathers of the night, And a long wave of yellow light Breaks silently on tower and hall, And spreading wide across […]...
32. The Banyan Tree O you shaggy-headed banyan tree standing on the bank of the pond, Have you forgotten the little chile, like the birds that have Nested in your branches and left you? Do you not remember how he sat at the window and wondered at The tangle of your roots and plunged underground? The women would come […]...
33. Conqueror I was a gulp of high air – A bird breathing in, A black dot on blue paper, A privileged recipient Of finite sacrament Of souls of flying saints. That all happened the moment You taught me splendid roundness As defined by the touch of your lips. The other mysteries fell, one by one, Cities […]...
34. For every Bird a Nest For every Bird a Nest Wherefore in timid quest Some little Wren goes seeking round Wherefore when boughs are free Households in every tree Pilgrim be found? Perhaps a home too high Ah Aristocracy! The little Wren desires Perhaps of twig so fine Of twine e’en superfine, Her pride aspires The Lark is not ashamed […]...
35. Hypochondriac Maybe it’s Emphysema, a shiny black jewel of phlegm Humming like a clump of bees in my chest. Perhaps a tumor crawling in the crook of my armpit, A blood clot opening like a tiny red flower in my brain. Maybe it’s too early to show up on an X-ray, A kind of cancerous seed […]...
36. Camouflage Beside the bare and beaten track of travelling flocks and herds The woodpecker went tapping on, the postman of the birds, “I’ve got a letter here,” he said, “that no one’s understood, Addressed as follows: ‘To the bird that’s like a piece of wood.’ “The soldier bird got very cross it wasn’t meant for her; […]...
37. Playthings Child, how happy you are sitting in the dust, playing with a broken twig all the morning. I smile at your play with that little bit of a broken twig. I am busy with my accounts, adding up figures by the hour. Perhaps you glance at me and think, “What a stupid game to spoil […]...
38. It Is March It is March and black dust falls out of the books Soon I will be gone The tall spirit who lodged here has Left already On the avenues the colorless thread lies under Old prices When you look back there is always the past Even when it has vanished But when you look forward With […]...
39. Sang from the Heart, Sire Sang from the Heart, Sire, Dipped my Beak in it, If the Tune drip too much Have a tint too Red Pardon the Cochineal Suffer the Vermillion Death is the Wealth Of the Poorest Bird. Bear with the Ballad Awkward faltering Death twists the strings ‘Twasn’t my blame Pause in your Liturgies Wait your Chorals […]...
40. Seascape This celestial seascape, with white herons got up as angels, Flying high as they want and as far as they want sidewise In tiers and tiers of immaculate reflections; The whole region, from the highest heron Down to the weightless mangrove island With bright green leaves edged neatly with bird-droppings Like illumination in silver, And […]...