Stupidity

Related poetry:

1. Psalm 131 Humility and submission. Is there ambition in my heart?. Search, gracious God, and see; Or do I act a haughty part? Lord, I appeal to thee. I charge my thoughts, be humble still, And all my carriage mild, Content, my Father, with thy will, And quiet as a child. The patient soul, the lowly mind, […]...
2. PUBLISHERS And then they pretend like owls With marble eyes and wizened stupidity I do not know why they cannot perceive True art But I will write Until sand evaporates And the moon consumes the sun I will write Even for the sake of art For myself and for those who feel Reading could lift them […]...
3. Prelude They say that rhyme and rhythm are Outmoded now. I do not know, for I am far From high of brow. But if the twain you take away, Since basely bred, Proud Poetry, I dare to say, Would scarce be read. With humble heart I thus define My rôle in rhyme: Oh may I never […]...
4. Stupidity Dearest, forgive that with my clumsy touch I broke and bruised your rose. I hardly could suppose It were a thing so fragile that my clutch Could kill it, thus. It stood so proudly up upon its stem, I knew no thought of fear, And coming very near Fell, overbalanced, to your garment’s hem, Tearing […]...
5. My Cross I wrote a poem to the moon But no one noticed it; Although I hoped that late or soon Someone would praise a bit Its purity and grace forlone, Its beauty tulip-cool… But as my poem died still-born, I felt a fool. I wrote a verse of vulgar trend Spiced with an oath or two; […]...
6. 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 […]...
7. Ossawatomie I DON’T know how he came, Shambling, dark, and strong. He stood in the city and told men: My people are fools, my people are young and strong, my people must learn, my people are terrible workers and fighters. Always he kept on asking: Where did that blood come from? They said: You for the […]...
8. THE WRANGLER ONE day a shameless and impudent wight Went into a shop full of steel wares bright, Arranged with art upon ev’ry shelf. He fancied they were all meant for himself; And so, while the patient owner stood by, The shining goods needs must handle and try, And valued, for how should a fool better know? […]...
9. Tom That Tom was poor was sure a pity, Such guts for learning had the lad; He took to Greek like babe to titty, And he was mathematic mad. I loved to prime him up with knowledge, A brighter lad I never knew; I dreamed that he would go to college And there be honoured too. […]...
10. The Waking I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow. I feel my fate in what I cannot fear. I learn by going where I have to go. We think by feeling. What is there to know? I hear my being dance from ear to ear. I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow. Of […]...
11. Masses AMONG the mountains I wandered and saw blue haze and Red crag and was amazed; On the beach where the long push under the endless tide Maneuvers, I stood silent; Under the stars on the prairie watching the Dipper slant Over the horizon’s grass, I was full of thoughts. Great men, pageants of war and […]...
12. Sympathy My Muse is simple, yet it’s nice To think you don’t need to think twice On words I write. I reckon I’ve a common touch And if you say I cuss too much I answer: ‘Quite!’ I envy not the poet’s lot; He has something I haven’t got, Alas, I know. But I have something […]...
13. The Missal Makers To visit the Escurial We took a motor bus, And there a guide mercurial Took charge of us. He showed us through room after room, And talked hour after hour, Of place, crypt and royal tomb, Of pomp and power. But in bewilderment of grace What pleased me most of all Were ancient missals proud […]...
14. Lines from I’d rather have my verses win A place in common people’s hearts, Who, toiling through the strife and din Of life’s great thoroughfares, and marts, May read some line my hand has penned; Some simple verse, not fine, or grand, But what their hearts can understand And hold me henceforth as a friend, I’d rather […]...
15. Hymn 127 Christ’s invitation to sinners, or, Humility and pride. Mt. 11:28-30. “Come hither, all ye weary souls, Ye heavy-laden sinners, come; I’ll give you rest from all your toils, And raise you to my heav’nly home. “They shall find rest that learn of me; I’m of a meek and lowly mind; But passion rages like the […]...
16. Folly (For A. K. K.) What distant mountains thrill and glow Beneath our Lady Folly’s tread? Why has she left us, wise in woe, Shrewd, practical, uncomforted? We cannot love or dream or sing, We are too cynical to pray, There is no joy in anything Since Lady Folly went away. Many a knight and gentle […]...
17. Race of Veterans RACE of veterans! Race of victors! Race of the soil, ready for conflict! race of the conquering march! (No more credulity’s race, abiding-temper’d race;) Race henceforth owning no law but the law of itself; Race of passion and the storm. 5...
18. 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 […]...
19. 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 […]...
20. I Am The People, The Mob I AM the people the mob the crowd the mass. Do you know that all the great work of the world is Done through me? I am the workingman, the inventor, the maker of the World’s food and clothes. I am the audience that witnesses history. The Napoleons Come from me and the Lincolns. They […]...
21. To The Students Of The Workers' And Peasants' Faculty So there you sit. And how much blood was shed That you might sit there. Do such stories bore you? Well, don’t forget that others sat before you Who later sat on people. Keep your head! Your science will be valueless, you’ll find And learning will be sterile, if inviting Unless you pledge your intellect […]...
22. Don't Cheer Don’t cheer, damn you! Don’t cheer! Silence! Your bitterest tear Is fulsomely sweet to-day. . . . Down on your knees and pray. See, they sing as they go, Marching row upon row. Who will be spared to return, Sombre and starkly stern? Chaps whom we knew – s0 strange, Distant and dark with change; […]...
23. You Remember Ellen You remember Ellen, our hamlet’s pride, How meekly she bless’d her humble lot, When the stranger, William, had made her his bride, And love was the light of their lowly cot. Together they toil’d through winds and rains, Till William, at length, in sadness said, “We must seek our fortune on other plains;” Then, sighing, […]...
24. 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 […]...
25. Account The history of my stupidity would fill many volumes. Some would be devoted to acting against consciousness, Like the flight of a moth which, had it known, Would have tended nevertheless toward the candle’s flame. Others would deal with ways to silence anxiety, The little whisper which, thought it is a warning, is ignored. I […]...
26. 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 […]...
27. To learn the Transport by the Pain To learn the Transport by the Pain As Blind Men learn the sun! To die of thirst suspecting That Brooks in Meadows run! To stay the homesick homesick feet Upon a foreign shore Haunted by native lands, the while And blue beloved air! This is the Sovereign Anguish! This the signal woe! These are the […]...
28. Theme For English B The instructor said, Go home and write a page tonight. And let that page come out of you Then, it will be true. I wonder if it’s that simple? I am twenty-two, colored, born in Winston-Salem. I went to school there, then Durham, then here To this college on the hill above Harlem. I am […]...
29. God's Grief “Lord God of Hosts,” the people pray, “Make strong our arms that we may slay Our cursed foe and win the day.” “Lord God of Battles,” cries the foe, “Guide us to strike a bloody blow, And lay the adversary low.” But brooding o’er the battle smother Bewails the Lord: “Brother to brother, Why must […]...
30. Hymn 87 God dwells with the humble and penitent. Isa. 47:15,16. Thus saith the high and lofty One: “I sit upon my holy throne; My name is God, I dwell on high, Dwell in my own eternity. “But I descend to worlds below, On earth I have a mansion too; The humble spirit and contrite Is an […]...
31. This Gloomy Northern Day THIS gloomy northern day, Or this yet gloomier night, Has moved a something high In my cold heart; and I, That do not often pray, Would pray to-night. And first on Thee I call For bread, O God of might! Enough of bread for all, – That through the famished town Cold hunger may lie […]...
32. The Ballad Of The Hanged Men Men my brothers who after us live, Have your hearts against us not hardened. For-if of poor us you take pity, God of you sooner will show mercy. You see us here, attached. As for the flesh we too well have fed, Long since it’s been devoured or has rotted. And we the bones are […]...
33. The Last Supper Marie Vaux of the Painted Lips, And the mouth so mocking gay, A wanton you to the finger-tips, Who break men’s hearts in play; A thing of dust I have striven for, Honour and manhood given for, Headlong to ruin driven for, And this is the last, you say. . . . Drinking your wine […]...
34. The Maiden From Afar Within a vale, each infant year, When earliest larks first carol free, To humble shepherds cloth appear A wondrous maiden, fair to see. Not born within that lowly place From whence she wandered, none could tell; Her parting footsteps left no trace, When once the maiden sighed farewell. And blessed was her presence there Each […]...
35. Patience, Hard Thing! The Hard Thing But To Pray Patience, hard thing! the hard thing but to pray, But bid for, Patience is! Patience who asks Wants war, wants wounds; weary his times, his tasks; To do without, take tosses, and obey. Rare patience roots in these, and, these away, Nowhere. Natural heart’s ivy, Patience masks Our ruins of wrecked past purpose. There she […]...
36. When Dacey rode the Mule ‘TWAS to a small, up-country town, When we were boys at school, There came a circus with a clown, Likewise a bucking mule. The clown announced a scheme they had Spectators for to bring – They’d give a crown to any lad Who’d ride him round the ring. And, gentle reader, do not scoff Nor […]...
37. I Rose Up at the Dawn of Day I rose up at the dawn of day ‘Get thee away! get thee away! Pray’st thou for riches? Away! away! This is the Throne of Mammon grey.’ Said I: This, sure, is very odd; I took it to be the Throne of God. For everything besides I have: It is only for riches that I […]...
38. Still I said I will find what is lowly And put the roots of my identity Down there: Each day I’ll wake up And find the lowly nearby, A handy focus and reminder, A ready measure of my significance, The voice by which I would be heard, The wills, the kinds of selfishness I could Freely […]...
39. The Widow's Lament In Springtime Sorrow is my own yard Where the new grass Flames as it has flamed Often before but not With the cold fire That closes round me this year. Thirtyfive years I lived with my husband. The plumtree is white today With masses of flowers. Masses of flowers Load the cherry branches And color some bushes […]...
40. In the night In the night Grey heavy clouds muffled the valleys, And the peaks looked toward God alone. “O Master that movest the wind with a finger, Humble, idle, futile peaks are we. Grant that we may run swiftly across the world To huddle in worship at Thy feet.” In the morning A noise of men at […]...