Miracles

Related poetry:

1. Ordinary Miracles Spring, rainbows, Ordinary miracles About which Nothing new can be said. The stars on a clear night Of a New England winter; The soft air of the islands Along the old Spanish Main; Pirate gold shining In the palm; The odor of roses To the lover’s nose. . . There is no more poetry To […]...
2. Miracles WHY! who makes much of a miracle? As to me, I know of nothing else but miracles, Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan, Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the sky, Or wade with naked feet along the beach, just in the edge of the water, Or stand under trees […]...
3. Waiting For The Miracle (co-written by Sharon Robinson) Baby, I’ve been waiting, I’ve been waiting night and day. I didn’t see the time, I waited half my life away. There were lots of invitations And I know you sent me some, But I was waiting For the miracle, for the miracle to come. I know you really loved me. […]...
4. Miracles I dreamt I saw a huge grey boat in silence steaming Down a canal; it drew the dizzy landscape after; The solemn world was sucked along with it-a streaming Land-slide of loveliness. O, but I rocked with laughter, Staring, and clinging to my tree-top. For a lake Of gleaming peace swept on behind. (I mustn’t […]...
5. Instants If I could live again my life, In the next – I’ll try, – to make more mistakes, I won’t try to be so perfect, I’ll be more relaxed, I’ll be more full – than I am now, In fact, I’ll take fewer things seriously, I’ll be less hygenic, I’ll take more risks, I’ll take […]...
6. The Miracles I sent a message to my dear A thousand leagues and more to Her The dumb sea-levels thrilled to hear, And Lost Atlantis bore to Her. Behind my message hard I came, And nigh had found a grave for me; But that I launched of steel and flame Did war against the wave for me. […]...
7. Fantasy OVER all the dream-built margin, flushed with grey and hoary light, Glint the bubble planets tossing in the dead black sea of night. Immemorial face, how many faces look from out thy skies, Now with ghostly eyes of wonder rimmed around with rainbow dyes: Now the secrets of the future trail along the silent spheres: […]...
8. Sonnet XLIX: Thou Leaden Brain Thou leaden brain, which censur’st what I write, And say’st my lines be dull and do not move, I marvel not thou feel’st not my delight, Which never felt’st my fiery touch of love. But thou, whose pen hath like a pack-horse serv’d, Whose stomach unto gall hath turn’d thy food, Whose senses, like poor […]...
9. The Poetry Of Life “Who would himself with shadows entertain, Or gild his life with lights that shine in vain, Or nurse false hopes that do but cheat the true? Though with my dream my heaven should be resigned Though the free-pinioned soul that once could dwell In the large empire of the possible, This workday life with iron […]...
10. First Child… Second Child FIRST Be it a girl, or one of the boys, It is scarlet all over its avoirdupois, It is red, it is boiled; could the obstetrician Have possibly been a lobstertrician? His degrees and credentials were hunky-dory, But how’s for an infantile inventory? Here’s the prodigy, here’s the miracle! Whether its head is oval or […]...
11. Sonnet XXXIV: Marvel Not, Love To Admiration Marvel not, Love, though I thy power admire, Ravish’d a world beyond the farthest thought, And knowing more than ever hath been taught, That I am only starv’d in my desire. Marvel not, Love, though I thy power admire, Aiming at things exceeding all perfection, To Wisdom’s self to minister correction, That I […]...
12. Sestina September rain falls on the house. In the failing light, the old grandmother Sits in the kitchen with the child Beside the Little Marvel Stove, Reading the jokes from the almanac, Laughing and talking to hide her tears. She thinks that her equinoctial tears And the rain that beats on the roof of the house […]...
13. 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 […]...
14. I noticed People disappeared I noticed People disappeared When but a little child Supposed they visited remote Or settled Regions wild But did because they died A Fact withheld the little child...
15. A Distance From The Sea To Ernest Brace “And when the seven thunders had uttered their voices, I was About to write: and I heard a voice from heaven saying unto Me, Seal up those things which the seven thunders uttered, and Write them not.” REVELATIONS, x, 4. That raft we rigged up, under the water, Was just the item: […]...
16. The Mole Said he: “I’ll dive deep in the Past, And write a book of direful days When summer skies were overcast With smoke of humble hearths ablaze; When War was rampant in the land, And poor folk cowered in the night, While ruin gaped on every hand – Of ravishing and wrath I’ll write.” Ten years […]...
17. 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 […]...
18. The Witch's Life When I was a child There was an old woman in our neighborhood whom we called The Witch. All day she peered from her second story Window From behind the wrinkled curtains And sometimes she would open the window And yell: Get out of my life! She had hair like kelp And a voice like […]...
19. A Week Later A week later, I said to a friend: I don’t Think I could ever write about it. Maybe in a year I could write something. There is something in me maybe someday To be written; now it is folded, and folded, And folded, like a note in school. And in my dream Someone was playing […]...
20. Fruit of the Flower My father is a quiet man With sober, steady ways; For simile, a folded fan; His nights are like his days. My mother’s life is puritan, No hint of cavalier, A pool so calm you’re sure it can Have little depth to fear. And yet my father’s eyes can boast How full his life has […]...
21. Last Curtain I know that the day will come When my sight of this earth shall be lost, And life will take its leave in silence, Drawing the last curtain over my eyes. Yet stars will watch at night, And morning rise as before, And hours heave like sea waves casting up pleasures and pains. When I […]...
22. "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 […]...
23. A Miracle For Breakfast At six o’clock we were waiting for coffee, Waiting for coffee and the charitable crumb That was going to be served from a certain balcony -like kings of old, or like a miracle. It was still dark. One foot of the sun Steadied itself on a long ripple in the river. The first ferry of […]...
24. The Gardener XLIV: Reverend Sir, Forgive Reverend sir, forgive this pair of Sinners. Spring winds to-day are Blowing in wild eddies, driving dust And dead leaves away, and with them Your lessons are all lost. Do not say, father, that life is a Vanity. For we have made truce with death For once, and only for a few fragrant Hours we […]...
25. 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 […]...
26. The End of the World Here, at the end of the world, The flowers bleed As if they were hearts, The hearts ooze a darkness Like india ink, & poets dip their pens in & they write. “Here, at the end of the world,” They write, Not knowing what it means. “Here, where the sky nurses on black milk, Where […]...
27. Flight 93 I held the switch in trembling fingers, asked Why existence felt so small, so purposeless, Like a minnow wriggling feebly in my grasp… Vibrations of huge engines thrummed my arms As, glistening with sweat, I nudged the switch To OFF… I heard the klaxon-shrill alarms Like vultures’ shriekings… earthward, in a stall… We floated… earthward… […]...
28. Sonnet XXXV: Some, Misbelieving To Miracle Some, misbelieving and profane in love, When I do speak of miracles by thee, May say, that thou art flattered by me, Who only write my skill in verse to prove. See miracles, ye unbelieving, see A dumb-born Muse made t’express the mind, A cripple hand to write, yet lame by kind, One […]...
29. The Dream Said Will: “I’ll stay and till the land.” Said Jack: “I’ll sail the sea.” So one went forth kit-bag in hand, The other ploughed the lea. They met again at Christmas-tide, And wistful were the two. Said Jack: “you’re lucky here to bide.” Said Will: “I envy you.” “For in your eyes a light I […]...
30. The Fact that Earth is Heaven The Fact that Earth is Heaven Whether Heaven is Heaven or not If not an Affidavit Of that specific Spot Not only must confirm us That it is not for us But that it would affront us To dwell in such a place...
31. MY PERFECT ROSE At ten she came to me, three years ago, There was ‘something between us’ even then; Watching her write like Eliot every day, Turn prose into haiku in ten minutes flat, Write a poem in Greek three weeks from learning the alphabet; Then translate it as ‘Sun on a tomb, gold place, small sacred horse’. […]...
32. A Brand New Life 1/ My dearest child, my dearest love Come to Ayah, who has just come My dearest star, my brightest sun Your loudest cries, my sweetest songs Your merry laughter, my constant prayer My dearest child, whenever you come Be you a son, be you a daughter Ayah’s been waiting here at home In quiet moments […]...
33. Portia (To Ellen Terry) I marvel not Bassanio was so bold To peril all he had upon the lead, Or that proud Aragon bent low his head Or that Morocco’s fiery heart grew cold: For in that gorgeous dress of beaten gold Which is more golden than the golden sun No woman Veronese looked upon Was […]...
34. A Tragedy Among his books he sits all day To think and read and write; He does not smell the new-mown hay, The roses red and white. I walk among them all alone, His silly, stupid wife; The world seems tasteless, dead and done – An empty thing is life. At night his window casts a square […]...
35. 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 […]...
36. Belfast Tune Here’s a girl from a dangerous town She crops her dark hair short so that less of her has to frown when someine gets hurt. She folds her memories like a parachute. Dropped, she collects the peat and cooks her veggies at home: they shoot here where they eat. Ah, there’s more sky in these […]...
37. A Better Answer Dear Chloe, how blubbered is that pretty face; Thy cheek all on fire, and thy hair all uncurled! Prithee quit this caprice, and (as old Falstaff says) Let us e’en talk a little like folks of this world. How canst thou presume thou hast leave to destroy The beauties which Venus but lent to thy […]...
38. None can experience sting None can experience sting Who Bounty have not known The fact of Famine could not be Except for Fact of Corn Want is a meagre Art Acquired by Reverse The Poverty that was not Wealth Cannot be Indigence....
39. The Man Who Was Away The widow sought the lawyer’s room with children three in tow, She told the lawyer man her tale in tones of deepest woe. She said, “My husband took to drink for pains in his inside, And never drew a sober breath from then until he died. “He never drew a sober breath, he died without […]...
40. Behind Me dips Eternity Behind Me dips Eternity Before Me Immortality Myself the Term between Death but the Drift of Eastern Gray, Dissolving into Dawn away, Before the West begin ‘Tis Kingdoms afterward they say In perfect pauseless Monarchy Whose Prince is Son of None Himself His Dateless Dynasty Himself Himself diversify In Duplicate divine ‘Tis Miracle before Me […]...