Horatio

Related poetry:

1. Hamlet Off-Stage: Neutrinos Explain Suck-Uppers Neutrinos do zip but swap back and forth Into each other, much like Rosypoop And Guildendoo do. For years it was thought Neutrinos hung out weightless as R&G. No longer. Scientists have discovered Neutrinos possess mass. Though invisible, Neutrinos weigh as much as all the stars. How could I have thought the R & G […]...
2. 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 […]...
3. With Penne, Inke, And Paper To A Distressed Friend Here is paper, pen, and inke, That your heart and seale may sinke Into such markes as may expresse A Soule much blest in heavinesse. May your paper seeme as fayre As yourselfe when you appeare: May the Letters which you write Looke like black eye-lids on white. May your penne such fancies bring As […]...
4. 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 […]...
5. A Scrap of Paper “Will you go to war just for a scrap of paper?” Question Of the German Chancellor to the British Ambassador, August 5, 1914. A mocking question! Britain’s answer came Swift as the light and searching as the flame. “Yes, for a scrap of paper we will fight Till our last breath, and God defend the […]...
6. Interior IN the cool of the night time The clocks pick off the points And the mainsprings loosen. They will need winding. One of these days… they will need winding. Rabelais in red boards, Walt Whitman in green, Hugo in ten-cent paper covers, Here they stand on shelves In the cool of the night time And […]...
7. Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold! Bright and yellow, hard and cold Molten, graven, hammered and rolled, Heavy to get and light to hold, Hoarded, bartered, bought and sold, Stolen, borrowed, squandered, doled, Spurned by young, but hung by old To the verge of a church yard mold; Price of many a crime untold. Gold! Gold! Gold! […]...
8. Paper Boats Day by day I float my paper boats one by one down the running Stream. In bid black letters I write my name on them and the name of The village where I live. I hope that someone in some strange land will find them and Know who I am. I load my little boats […]...
9. I heard a bird at dawn I heard a bird at dawn Singing sweetly on a tree, That the dew was on the lawn, And the wind was on the lea; But I didn’t listen to him, For he didn’t sing to me. I didn’t listen to him, For he didn’t sing to me That the dew was on the lawn […]...
10. Include Me Out I grabbed the new Who’s Who to see My name – but it was not. Said I: “The form they posted me I filled and sent – so what?” I searched the essies,” dour with doubt. . . Darn! It was plain as day The scurvy knaves had left me out. . . Oh was […]...
11. New And Old I and new love, in all its living bloom, Sat vis-à-vis, while tender twilight hours Went softly by us, treading as on flowers. Then suddenly I saw within the room The old love, long since lying in its tomb. It dropped the cerecloth from its fleshless face And smiled on me, with a remembered grace […]...
12. Golden Days Another day of toil and strife, Another page so white, Within that fateful Log of Life That I and all must write; Another page without a stain To make of as I may, That done, I shall not see again Until the Judgment Day. Ah, could I, could I backward turn The pages of that […]...
13. Weary not of us, for we are very beautiful Weary not of us, for we are very beautiful; it is out of very jealousy and proper pride that we entered the veil. On the day when we cast of the body’s veil from the soul, you will see that we are the envy of despair of man and the Polestars. Wash your face and […]...
14. The Wicked Postman Why do you sit there on the floor so quiet and silent, tell me, Mother dear? The rain is coming in through the open window, making you all Wet, and you don’t mind it. Do you hear the gong striking four? It is time for my brother To come home from school. What has happened […]...
15. Mrs. Purkapile He ran away and was gone for a year. When he came home he told me the silly story Of being kidnapped by pirates on Lake Michigan And kept in chains so he could not write me. I pretended to believe it, though I knew very well What he was doing, and that he met […]...
16. December, 1919 Last night I heard your voice, mother, The words you sang to me When I, a little barefoot boy, Knelt down against your knee. And tears gushed from my heart, mother, And passed beyond its wall, But though the fountain reached my throat The drops refused to fall. ‘Tis ten years since you died, mother, […]...
17. In The Secular Night In the secular night you wander around Alone in your house. It’s two-thirty. Everyone has deserted you, Or this is your story; You remember it from being sixteen, When the others were out somewhere, having a good time, Or so you suspected, And you had to baby-sit. You took a large scoop of vanilla ice-cream […]...
18. Never To Dream Of Spiders Time collapses between the lips of strangers My days collapse into a hollow tube Soon implodes against now Like an iron wall My eyes are blocked with rubble A smear of perspectives Blurring each horizon In the breathless precision of silence One word is made. Once the renegade flesh was gone Fall air lay against […]...
19. "I Love You Sweatheart&quot A man risked his life to write the words. A man hung upside down (an idiot friend Holding his legs?) with spray paint To write the words on a girder fifty feet above A highway. And his beloved, The next morning driving to work…? His words are not (meant to be) so unique. Does she […]...
20. Dream Song 53: He lay in the middle of the world, and twicht He lay in the middle of the world, and twicht. More Sparine for Pelides, Human (half) & down here as he is, With probably insulting mail to open And certainly unworthy words to hear And his unforgiving memory. €”I seldom go to films. They are too exciting, Said the Honourable Possum. €”It takes me so […]...
21. THE DAYS GO BY for Daniel Weissbort Some poems meant only for my eyes About a grief I can’t let go But I want to, want to throw It away like an old worn-out cloak Or screw up like a ball of over-written Trash and toss into the corner bin. I said it must come up or out I […]...
22. 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 […]...
23. A SIMPLE POEM I want you to continue writing Because I will not always be around With lips that will never touch mine Read your poems out loud So that the words are left engraved On the wall Make me feel your voice rush through me Like a breeze from Oyá I want to hear about Puerto Rico […]...
24. The Keys of Morning While at her bedroom window once, Learning her task for school, Little Louisa lonely sat In the morning clear and cool, She slanted her small bead-brown eyes Across the empty street, And saw Death softly watching her In the sunshine pale and sweet. His was a long lean sallow face; He sat with half-shut eyes, […]...
25. The Akond of Swat Who, or why, or which, or what, Is the Akond of SWAT? Is he tall or short, or dark or fair? Does he sit on a stool or a sofa or a chair, or SQUAT, The Akond of Swat? Is he wise or foolish, young or old? Does he drink his soup and his coffee […]...
26. The Old Song A livid sky on London And like the iron steeds that rear A shock of engines halted And I knew the end was near: And something said that far away, over the hills and far away There came a crawling thunder and the end of all things here. For London Bridge is broken down, broken […]...
27. Reflections of caernarvon i I shall die yearning A hand Reaching out to A face that isn’t there A face Seeking a hand A stone Leaving its mountain- Wall in a wind Anxious to be a bird A bird Crying to be a wall Ii North wales The goat pisses The hawk hangs The mountain leans forward out […]...
28. Dream Barker We met for supper in your flat-bottomed boat. I got there first: in a white dress: I remember Wondering if you’d come. Then you shot over the bank, A Virgilian Nigger Jim, and poled us off To a little sea-food barker’s cave you knew. What’ll you have? you said. Eels hung down, Bamboozled claws hung […]...
29. Monadnock in Early Spring Cloud-topped and splendid, dominating all The little lesser hills which compass thee, Thou standest, bright with April’s buoyancy, Yet holding Winter in some shaded wall Of stern, steep rock; and startled by the call Of Spring, thy trees flush with expectancy And cast a cloud of crimson, silently, Above thy snowy crevices where fall Pale […]...
30. Sonnet 28 – My letters! all dead paper, mute and white! My letters! all dead paper, mute and white! And yet they seem alive and quivering Against my tremulous hands which loose the string And let them drop down on my knee to-night. This said,-he wished to have me in his sight Once, as a friend: this fixed a day in spring To come and touch […]...
31. Cinema Screen Light’s patterns freeze: Frost on our faces. Light’s pollen sifts Through the lids of our eyes… Light sinks and rusts In water; is broken By glass… rests On deserted dust. Light lies like torn Paper in corners: A rock-pool’s pledge Of the sea’s return. Light, wrenched at the edges By wind, looks down At itself […]...
32. Fast rode the knight Fast rode the knight With spurs, hot and reeking, Ever waving an eager sword, “To save my lady!” Fast rode the knIght, And leaped from saddle to war. Men of steel flickered and gleamed Like riot of silver lights, And the gold of the knight’s good banner Still waved on a castle wall. . . […]...
33. The Garden Wall Bricks of the wall, So much older than the house – Taken I think from a farm pulled down When the street was built – Narrow bricks of another century. Modestly, though laid with panels and parapets, A wall behind the flowers – Roses and hollyhocks, the silver Pods of lupine, sweet-tasting Phlox, gray Lavender […]...
34. Sonnet XIII: Letters and Lines To the Shadow Letters and lines we see are soon defac’d, Metals do waste and fret with canker’s rust, The diamond shall once consume to dust, And freshest colors with foul stains disgrac’d; Paper and ink can paint but naked words, To write with blood of force offends the sight; And if with tears I […]...
35. Security Young man, gather gold and gear, They will wear you well; You can thumb your nose at fear, Wish the horde in hell. With the haughty you can be Insolent and bold: Young man, if you would be free Gather gear and gold. Mellow man o middle age, Buy a little farm; Then let revolution […]...
36. It's Forth Across The Roaring Foam IT’S forth across the roaring foam, and on towards the west, It’s many a lonely league from home, o’er many a mountain crest, From where the dogs of Scotland call the sheep around the fold, To where the flags are flying beside the Gates of Gold. Where all the deep-sea galleons ride that come to […]...
37. Poor Poet ‘A man should write to please himself,’ He proudly said. Well, see his poems on the shelf, Dusty, unread. When he came to my shop each day, So peaked and cold, I’d sneak one of his books away And say ’twas sold. And then by chance he looked below, And saw a stack Of his […]...
38. Sentimental Shark Give me a cabin in the woods Where not a human soul intrudes; Where I can sit beside a stream Beneath a balsam bough and deam, And every morning see arise The sun like bird of paradise; Then go down to the creek and fish A speckled trout for breakfast dish, And fry it in […]...
39. Perfection If I could practise what I preach, Of fellows there would few be finer; If I were true to what I teach My life would be a lot diviner. If I would act the way I speak, Of halo I might be a winner: The spirit wills, the flesh is weak, I’m just a simple […]...
40. My Picture I made a picture; all my heart I put in it, and all I knew Of canvas-cunning and of Art, Of tenderness and passion true. A worshipped Master came to see; Oh he was kind and gentle, too. He studied it with sympathy, And sensed what I had sought to do. Said he: “Your paint […]...