Variant Form Of The Preceding Poem

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1. Tempest Tossed And Sore Afflicted TEMPEST tossed and sore afflicted, sin defiled and care oppressed, Come to me, all ye that labour; come, and I will give ye rest. Fear no more, O doubting hearted; weep no more, O weeping eye! Lo, the voice of your redeemer; lo, the songful morning near. Here one hour you toil and combat, sin […]...
2. Epitaph In The Form Of A Ballade Freres humains qui apres nous vivez, N’ayez les coeurs contre nous endurcis… Men, brother men, that after us yet live, Let not your hearts too hard against us be; For if some pity of us poor men ye give, The sooner God shall take of you pity. Here are we five or six strung up, […]...
3. In Due Form I do not doubt you. I know you love me. It is a fact of your indoor face, A true fancy of your muscularity. Your step is confident. Your look is thorough. Your stay-beside-me is a pillow To roll over on And sleep as on my own upon. But make me a statement In due […]...
4. The Poem Cat Sometimes the poem Doesn’t want to come; It hides from the poet Like a playful cat Who has run Under the house & lurks among slugs, Roots, spiders’ eyes, Ledge so long out of the sun That it is dank With the breath of the Troll King. Sometimes the poem Darts away Like a coy […]...
5. A Form Of Women I have come far enough From where I was not before To have seen the things Looking in at me from through the open door And have walked tonight By myself To see the moonlight And see it as trees And shapes more fearful Because I feared What I did not know But have wanted […]...
6. The Little Lives Of Earth And Form The little lives of earth and form, Of finding food, and keeping warm, Are not like ours, and yet A kinship lingers nonetheless: We hanker for the homeliness Of den, and hole, and set. And this identity we feel – Perhaps not right, perhaps not real – Will link us constantly; I see the rock, […]...
7. I Saw Thy Form in Youthful Prime I saw thy form in youthful prime, Nor thought that pale decay Would steal before the steps of Time, And waste its bloom away, Mary! Yet still thy features wore that light, Which fleets not with the breath; And life ne’er look’d more truly bright Than in thy smile of death, Mary! As streams that […]...
8. Spirit That Form'd This Scene SPIRIT that form’d this scene, These tumbled rock-piles grim and red, These reckless heaven-ambitious peaks, These gorges, turbulent-clear streams, this naked freshness, These formless wild arrays, for reasons of their own, I know thee, savage spirit-we have communed together, Mine too such wild arrays, for reasons of their own; Was’t charged against my chants they […]...
9. Democracy Democracy will not come Today, this year Nor ever Through compromise and fear. I have as much right As the other fellow has To stand On my two feet And own the land. I tire so of hearing people say, Let things take their course. Tomorrow is another day. I do not need my freedom […]...
10. The Mother Poem (two) I always wanted to give birth Do that incredible natural thing That women do-I nearly broke down When I heard we couldn’t And then my man said to me Well there’s always adoption (we didn’t have test tubes and the rest Then) and well even in the early sixties there was something Scandalous about adopting […]...
11. NEW YEAR POEM For Jeremy Reed Rejection doesn’t lead me to dejection But to inspiration via irritation Or at least to a bit of naughty new year wit- Oh isn’t it a shame my poetry’s not tame Like Rupert’s or Jay’s – I never could Get into their STRIDE just to much pride To lick the arses of […]...
12. A Serenade Ah! County Guy, the hour is nigh The sun has left the lea, The orange-flower perfumes the bower, The breeze is on the sea. The lark, his lay who trill’d all day, Sits hush’d his partner nigh; Breeze, bird, and flower confess the hour, But where is County Guy? The village maid steals through the […]...
13. County Guy Ah! County Guy, the hour is nigh, The sun has left the lea, The orange flower perfumes the bower, The breeze is on the sea. The lark his lay who thrill’d all day Sits hush’d his partner nigh: Breeze, bird, and flower confess the hour, But where is County Guy? The village maid steals through […]...
14. Morning Poem #1 floating gray web pages Step into a crowded vacuum Clouds sweating There’s a gauzy scrim In front of my eyes Between me and The rest of the world Afternoon birds...
15. FRIST POEM A rainbow comes pouring into my window, I am electrified. Songs burst from my breast, all my crying stops, mistory fills the air. I look for my shues under my bed. A fat colored woman becomes my mother. I have no false teeth yet. Suddenly ten children sit on my lap. I grow a beard […]...
16. Not What Was Meant When the Academy of Arts demanded freedom Of artistic expression from narrow-minded bureaucrats There was a howl and a clamour in its immediate vicinity But roaring above everything Came a deafening thunder of applause From beyond the Sector boundary. Freedom! it roared. Freedom for the artists! Freedom all round! Freedom for all! Freedom for the […]...
17. Poem 93 TO whom his mother closely smiling sayd, Twixt earnest and twixt game: See thou thy selfe likewise art lyttle made, If thou regard the same. And yet thou suffrest neyther gods in sky, Nor men in earth to rest: But when thou art disposed cruelly, Theyr sleepe thou doost molest. Then eyther change thy cruelty, […]...
18. Heroic Poem in Praise of Wine To exalt, enthrone, establish and defend, To welcome home mankind’s mysterious friend Wine, true begetter of all arts that be; Wine, privilege of the completely free; Wine the recorder; wine the sagely strong; Wine, bright avenger of sly-dealing wrong, Awake, Ausonian Muse, and sing the vineyard song! Sing how the Charioteer from Asia came, And […]...
19. Creation AS one by one the veils took flight, The day withdrew, the stars came up. The spirit issued pale and bright Filling thy beauty like a cup. Sacred thy laughter on the air, Holy thy lightest word that fell, Proud the innumerable hair That waved at the enchanter’s spell. O, Master of the Beautiful, Creating […]...
20. Million Man March Poem The night has been long, The wound has been deep, The pit has been dark, And the walls have been steep. Under a dead blue sky on a distant beach, I was dragged by my braids just beyond your reach. Your hands were tied, your mouth was bound, You couldn’t even call out my name. […]...
21. Poem in Prose This poem is for my wife. I have made it plainly and honestly: The mark is on it Like the burl on the knife. I have not made it for praise. She has no more need for praise Than summer has Or the bright days. In all that becomes a woman Her words and her […]...
22. Poem For People That Are Understandably Too Busy To Read Poetry Relax. This won’t last long. Or if it does, or if the lines Make you sleepy or bored, Give in to sleep, turn on The T. V., deal the cards. This poem is built to withstand Such things. Its feelings Cannot be hurt. They exist Somewhere in the poet, And I am far away. Pick […]...
23. On such a night, or such a night On such a night, or such a night, Would anybody care If such a little figure Slipped quiet from its chair So quiet Oh how quiet, That nobody might know But that the little figure Rocked softer to and fro On such a dawn, or such a dawn Would anybody sigh That such a little […]...
24. The Final Poem A forge burns in my heart. I am redder than dawn, Deeper than seaweed, More distant than gulls, More hollow than wells. But I only give birth To seeds and to shells. My tongue becomes tangled in words: I no longer speak white, Nor utter black, Nor whisper gray of a wind-worn cliff, Barely do […]...
25. Poem 23 And ye high heauens, the temple of the gods, In which a thousand torches flaming bright Doe burne, that to vs wretched earthly clods: In dreadful darknesse lend desired light; And all ye powers which in the same remayne, More then we men can fayne, Poure out your blessing on vs plentiously, And happy influence […]...
26. Poem For Maya Dipping our bread in oil tins We talked of morning peeling Open our rooms to a moment Of almonds, olives and wind When we did not yet know what we were. The days in Mallorca were alike: Footprints down goat-paths From the beds we had left, At night the stars locked to darkness. At that […]...
27. Your Poem My poem may be yours indeed In melody and tone, If in its rhythm you can read A music of your own; If in its pale woof you can weave Your lovelier design, ‘Twill make my lyric, I believe, More yours than mine. I’m but a prompter at the best; Crude cues are all I […]...
28. Sonnet XLI: Yes, I Will Go Yes, I will go, where circling whirlwinds rise, Where threat’ning clouds in sable grandeur lour; Where the blast yells, the liquid columns pour, And madd’ning billows combat with the skies! There, while the Daemon of the tempest flies On growing pinions through the troublous hour, The wild waves gasp impatient to devour, And on the […]...
29. Poem 16 AH when will this long vveary day haue end, And lende me leaue to come vnto my loue? Hovv slovvly do the houres theyr numbers spend? How slowly does sad Time his feathers moue? Hast thee O fayrest Planet to thy home Within the Westerne some: Thy tyred steedes long since haue need of rest. […]...
30. Poem 14 NOw al is done; bring home the bride againe, Bring home the triumph of our victory, Bring home with you the glory of her gaine, With ioyance bring her and with iollity. Neuer had man more ioyfull day then this, Whom heauen would heape with blis. Make feast therefore now all this liue long day, […]...
31. Poem 7 NOw is my loue all ready forth to come, Let all the virgins therefore well awayt, And ye fresh boyes that tend vpon her groome Prepare your selues; for he is comming strayt. Set all your things in seemely good aray Fit for so ioyfull day, The ioyfullst day that euer sunne did see Faire […]...
32. Psalm 91 part 2 v.9-16 C. M. Protection from death, guard of angels, victory and deliverance. Ye sons of men, a feeble race, Exposed to every snare, Come, make the Lord your dwelling-place, And try and trust his care. No ill shall enter where you dwell; Or if the plague come nigh, And sweep the wicked down to hell, […]...
33. Freedom What freeman knoweth freedom? Never he Whose father’s father through long lives have reigned O’er kingdoms which mere heritage attained. Though from his youth to age he roam as free As winds, he dreams not freedom’s ecstacy. But he whose birth was in a nation chained For centuries; where every breath was drained From breasts […]...
34. The Longing Freedom. How her spirit Haunts, Hooks, Entices us all! Freedom, Will the time come For my ideas to roam Across this vast land’s deserts, Through the caverns of the Empty Quarter? For my voice to be sent forth, Crying out in the stillness of a quiet people, A voice among the voiceless? For my thoughts, […]...
35. Love Poem Yours is the face that the earth turns to me, Continuous beyond its human features lie The mountain forms that rest against the sky. With your eyes, the reflecting rainbow, the sun’s light Sees me; forest and flower, bird and beast Know and hold me forever in the world’s thought, Creation’s deep untroubled retrospect. When […]...
36. Poem (The spirit likes to dress up…) The spirit likes to dress up like this: ten fingers, ten toes, Shoulders, and all the rest at night in the black branches, in the morning In the blue branches of the world. It could float, of course, but would rather Plumb rough matter. Airy and shapeless thing, it needs the metaphor of the body, […]...
37. To Willie and Henrietta If two may read aright These rhymes of old delight And house and garden play, You too, my cousins, and you only, may. You in a garden green With me were king and queen, Were hunter, soldier, tar, And all the thousand things that children are. Now in the elders’ seat We rest with quiet […]...
38. A poem on divine revelation This is a day of happiness, sweet peace, And heavenly sunshine; upon which conven’d In full assembly fair, once more we view, And hail with voice expressive of the heart, Patrons and sons of this illustrious hall. This hall more worthy of its rising fame Than hall on mountain or romantic hill, Where Druid bards […]...
39. Little Summer Poem Touching The Subject Of Faith Every summer I listen and look Under the sun’s brass and even Into the moonlight, but I can’t hear Anything, I can’t see anything Not the pale roots digging down, nor the green stalks muscling up, Nor the leaves Deepening their damp pleats, Nor the tassels making, Nor the shucks, nor the cobs. And still, […]...
40. A spring poem from bion One asketh: “Tell me, Myrson, tell me true: What’s the season pleaseth you? Is it summer suits you best, When from harvest toil we rest? Is it autumn with its glory Of all surfeited desires? Is it winter, when with story And with song we hug our fires? Or is spring most fair to you […]...