AUTOBIOGRAPHY (POLISH IT LIKE A PIECE OF SILVER)

Related poetry:

1. A Ballad of John Silver We were schooner-rigged and rakish, With a long and lissome hull, And we flew the pretty colours of the crossbones and the skull; We’d a big black Jolly Roger flapping grimly at the fore, And we sailed the Spanish Water in the happy days of yore. We’d a long brass gun amidships, like a well-conducted […]...
2. Curse of a Rich Polish Peasant on His Sister Who Ran Away With a Wild Man FELIKSOWA has gone again from our house and this time for good, I hope. She and her husband took with them the cow father gave them, and they sold it. She went like a swine, because she called neither on me, her brother, nor on her father, before leaving for those forests. That is where […]...
3. Night-piece what’s that i’m awake A bang like a door or a foot Knocking a chair who’s there Tense i lie in my bed my face Stretching out on the black air My ears strain……a creak this time Like a cat on the stair – but we have no cat If the door-handle turned and a…. […]...
4. Autobiography I was born in 1902 I never once went back to my birthplace I don’t like to turn back At three I served as a pasha’s grandson in Aleppo At nineteen as a student at Moscow Communist University At forty-nine I was back in Moscow as the Tcheka Party’s guest And I’ve been a poet […]...
5. Autobiography At An Air-Station Delay, well, travellers must expect Delay. For how long? No one seems to know. With all the luggage weighed, the tickets checked, It can’t be long… We amble too and fro, Sit in steel chairs, buy cigarettes and sweets And tea, unfold the papers. Ought we to smile, Perhaps make friends? No: in the race […]...
6. Birthday (Autobiography) Seventy years ago my mother labored to bear me, A twelve-pound baby with a big head, Her first, it was plain torture. Finally they used the forceps And dragged me out, with one prong In my right eye, and slapped and banged me until I breathed. I am not particularly grateful for it. As to […]...
7. A Spring Piece Left In The Middle Taut, thick fingers punch The teeth of my typewriter. Three words are down on paper in capitals: SPRING SPRING SPRING… And me poet, proofreader, The man who’s forced to read Two thousand bad lines every day for two liras Why, since spring has come, am I still sitting here like a ragged black chair? My […]...
8. Silver Slowly, silently, now the moon Walks the night in her silver shoon; This way, and that, she peers, and sees Silver fruit upon silver trees; One by one the casements catch Her beams beneath the silvery thatch; Couched in his kennel, like a log, With paws of silver sleeps the dog; From their shadowy cote […]...
9. Silver Wind DO you know how the dream looms? how if summer misses one of us the two of us miss summer- Summer when the lungs of the earth take a long breath for the change to low contralto singing mornings when the green corn leaves first break through the black loam- And another long breath for […]...
10. Silver Nails A MAN was crucified. He came to the city a stranger, Was accused, and nailed to a cross. He lingered hanging. Laughed at the crowd. “The nails are iron,” he Said, “You are cheap. In my country when we crucify We use silver nails. . .” So he went jeering. They Did not understand him […]...
11. The Silver Lily The nights have grown cool again, like the nights Of early spring, and quiet again. Will Speech disturb you? We’re Alone now; we have no reason for silence. Can you see, over the garden-the full moon rises. I won’t see the next full moon. In spring, when the moon rose, it meant Time was endless. […]...
12. Silver Wedding Silver Wedding The party is over and I sit among The flotsam that its passing leaves, The dirty glasses and fag-ends: Outside, a black wind grieves. Two decades and a half of marriage; It does not really seem as long, Of youth’s ebullient song. David, my son, my loved rival, And Julia, my tapering daughter, […]...
13. Silver Filigree The icicles wreathing On trees in festoon Swing, swayed to our breathing: They’re made of the moon. She’s a pale, waxen taper; And these seem to drip Transparent as paper From the flame of her tip. Molten, smoking a little, Into crystal they pass; Falling, freezing, to brittle And delicate glass. Each a sharp-pointed flower, […]...
14. Inscription for my little son's silver plate When thou dost eat from off this plate, I charge thee be thou temperate; Unto thine elders at the board Do thou sweet reverence accord; And, though to dignity inclined, Unto the serving-folk be kind; Be ever mindful of the poor, Nor turn them hungry from the door; And unto God, for health and food […]...
15. The Palm And The Pine From the German of Heine. In the far North stands a Pine-tree, lone, Upon a wintry height; It sleeps: around it snows have thrown A covering of white. It dreams forever of a Palm That, far i’ the Morning-land, Stands silent in a most sad calm Midst of the burning sand....
16. The Spider holds a Silver Ball The Spider holds a Silver Ball In unperceived Hands And dancing softly to Himself His Yarn of Pearl unwinds He plies from Nought to Nought In unsubstantial Trade Supplants our Tapestries with His In half the period An Hour to rear supreme His Continents of Light Then dangle from the Housewife’s Broom His Boundaries forgot...
17. Not In A Silver Casket Cool With Pearls Not in a silver casket cool with pearls Or rich with red corundum or with blue, Locked, and the key withheld, as other girls Have given their loves, I give my love to you; Not in a lovers’-knot, not in a ring Worked in such fashion, and the legend plain- Semper fidelis, where a secret […]...
18. The House Of Dust: Part 02: 08: The Box With Silver Handles Well,-it was two days after my husband died- Two days! And the earth still raw above him. And I was sweeping the carpet in their hall. In number four-the room with the red wall-paper- Some chorus girls and men were singing that song ‘They’ll soon be lighting candles Round a box with silver handles’-and hearing […]...
19. Night Piece Climb, claim your shelf-room, far Packed from inquisitive moon And cold contagious stars. Lean out, but look no longer, No further, than to stir Night with extended finger. Now fill the box with light, Flood full the shining block, Masonry against night. Let window, curtain, blind Soft-sieve and sift and shred The impertinence of sound. […]...
20. A Piece Of The Storm For Sharon Horvath From the shadow of domes in the city of domes, A snowflake, a blizzard of one, weightless, entered your room And made its way to the arm of the chair where you, looking up From your book, saw it the moment it landed. That’s all There was to it. No more than […]...
21. Museum Piece The good gray guardians of art Patrol the halls on spongy shoes, Impartially protective, though Perhaps suspicious of Toulouse. Here dozes one against the wall, Disposed upon a funeral chair. A Degas dancer pirouettes Upon the parting of his hair. See how she spins! The grace is there, But strain as well is plain to […]...
22. Night Piece, to Julia Her eyes the glow-worm lend thee, The shooting stars attend thee, And the elves also, Whose little eyes glow Like sparks of fire befriend thee. No will-o’th’-wisp mislight thee; No snake or slow-worm bite thee; But on, on thy way, Not making a stay, Since ghost there’s none to affright thee. Let not the dark […]...
23. The Night Piece, to Julia Her eyes the glow-worm lend thee, The shooting stars attend thee; And the elves also, Whose little eyes glow Like the sparks of fire, befriend thee. No Will-o’-th’-Wisp mis-light thee, Nor snake or slow-worm bite thee; But on, on thy way, Not making a stay, Since ghost there’s none to affright thee. Let not the […]...
24. A Night-Piece By Millet Wind and sea and cloud and cloud-forsaking Mirth of moonlight where the storm leaves free Heaven awhile, for all the wrath of waking Wind and sea. Bright with glad mad rapture, fierce with glee, Laughs the moon, borne on past cloud’s o’ertaking Fast, it seems, as wind or sail can flee. One blown sail beneath […]...
25. A Flower-Piece By Fantin Heart’s ease or pansy, pleasure or thought, Which would the picture give us of these? Surely the heart that conceived it sought Heart’s ease. Surely by glad and divine degrees The heart impelling the hand that wrought Wrought comfort here for a soul’s disease. Deep flowers, with lustre and darkness fraught, From glass that gleams […]...
26. Piazza Piece I am a gentleman in a dustcoat trying To make you hear. Your ears are soft and small And listen to an old man not at all, They want the young men’s whispering and sighing. But see the roses on your trellis dying And hear the spectral singing of the moon; For I must have […]...
27. Night-Piece Ye hooded witches, baleful shapes that moan, Quench your fantastic lanterns and be still; For now the moon through heaven sails alone, Shedding her peaceful rays from hill to hill. The faun from out his dim and secret place Draws nigh the darkling pool and from his dream Half-wakens, seeing there his sylvan face Reflected, […]...
28. Picture Puzzle Piece One picture puzzle piece Lyin’ on the sidewalk, One picture puzzle piece Soakin’ in the rain. It might be a button of blue On the coat of the woman Who lived in a shoe. It might be a magical bean, Or a fold in the red Velvet robe of a queen. It might be the […]...
29. Madam Life's a Piece in Bloom Madam Life’s a piece in bloom Death goes dogging everywhere: She’s the tenant of the room, He’s the ruffian on the stair. You shall see her as a friend, You shall bilk him once or twice; But he’ll trap you in the end, And he’ll stick you for her price. With his kneebones at your […]...
30. On Seeing A Piece Of Our Artillery Brought Into Action Be slowly lifted up, thou long black arm, Great gun towering towards Heaven, about to curse; Sway steep against them, and for years rehearse Huge imprecations like a blasting charm! Reach at that Arrogance which needs thy harm, And beat it down before its sins grow worse; Spend our resentment, cannon, yea, disburse Our gold […]...
31. The Task: Book II, The Time-Piece (excerpts) England, with all thy faults, I love thee still My country! and, while yet a nook is left Where English minds and manners may be found, Shall be constrain’d to love thee. Though thy clime Be fickle, and thy year most part deform’d With dripping rains, or wither’d by a frost, I would not yet […]...
32. Sonnet 104 – A spot of poontang on a five-foot piece A spot of poontang on a five-foot piece, Diminutive, but room enough. . like clay To finger eager on some torrid day. . Who’d throw her black hair back, and hang, and tease. Never, not once in all one’s horny lease To’have had a demi-lay, a pretty, gay, Snug, slim and supple-breasted girl for play. […]...
33. A Fantasy I’ll tell you something: every day People are dying. And that’s just the beginning. Every day, in funeral homes, new widows are born, New orphans. They sit with their hands folded, Trying to decide about this new life. Then they’re in the cemetery, some of them For the first time. They’re frightened of crying, Sometimes […]...
34. Last Will And Testament Comrades, if I don’t live to see the day I mean, if I die before freedom comes Take me away And bury me in a village cemetery in Anatolia. The worker Osman whom Hassan Bey ordered shot Can lie on one side of me, and on the other side The martyr Aysha, who gave birth […]...
35. Distressed Haiku In a week or ten days The snow and ice Will melt from Cemetery Road. I’m coming! Don’t move! Once again it is April. Today is the day We would have been married Twenty-six years. I finished with April Halfway through March. You think that their Dying is the worst Thing that could happen. Then […]...
36. A Jewish Cemetery In Germany On a little hill amid fertile fields lies a small cemetery, A Jewish cemetery behind a rusty gate, hidden by shrubs, Abandoned and forgotten. Neither the sound of prayer Nor the voice of lamentation is heard there For the dead praise not the Lord. Only the voices of our children ring out, seeking graves and […]...
37. Edmonton, thy cemetery Edmonton, thy cemetery In which I love to tread Has roused in me a dreary thought For all the countless dead, Ah me, the countless dead. Yet I believe that one is one And shall for ever be, And while I hold to this belief I walk, oh cemetery, Thy footpaths happily. And I believe […]...
38. 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 […]...
39. Cold A cold February wind Crawls up my leg And rattles my knees A preacher fumbles Over the verses That I know by heart Why doesn’t he know them? Quaking, I sit Watching two unknown Men folding the flag Each turn means something; I forget The coffin is a beautiful wood I wonder whose grave This […]...
40. Giorno dei Morti Along the avenue of cypresses, All in their scarlet cloaks and surplices Of linen, go the chanting choristers, The priests in gold and black, the villagers. . . And all along the path to the cemetery The round dark heads of men crowd silently, And black-scarved faces of womenfolk, wistfully Watch at the banner of […]...