Successful Failure

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1. The Argument Of His Book I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers, Of April, May, of June, and July-flowers. I sing of May-poles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes, Of bridegrooms, brides, and of their bridal-cakes. I write of youth, of love, and have access By these to sing of cleanly wantonness. I sing of dews, of rains, and piece by […]...
2. The successful man has thrust himself The successful man has thrust himself Through the water of the years, Reeking wet with mistakes Bloody mistakes; Slimed with victories over the lesser, A figure thankful on the shore of money. Then, with the bones of fools He buys silken banners Limned with his triumphant face; With the skins of wise men He buys […]...
3. Failure He wrote a play; by day and night He strove with passion and delight; Yet knew, long ere the curtain drop, His drama was a sorry flop. In Parliament he sought a seat; Election Day brought dire defeat; Yet he had wooed with word and pen Prodigiously his fellow men. And then he wrote a […]...
4. 16-bit Intel 8088 chip with an Apple Macintosh You can’t run Radio Shack programs In its disc drive. Nor can a Commodore 64 Drive read a file You have created on an IBM Personal Computer. Both Kaypro and Osborne computers use The CP/M operating system But can’t read each other’s Handwriting For they format (write On) discs in different […]...
5. Failure Because God put His adamantine fate Between my sullen heart and its desire, I swore that I would burst the Iron Gate, Rise up, and curse Him on His throne of fire. Earth shuddered at my crown of blasphemy, But Love was as a flame about my feet; Proud up the Golden Stair I strode; […]...
6. To Failure You do not come dramatically, with dragons That rear up with my life between their paws And dash me butchered down beside the wagons, The horses panicking; nor as a clause Clearly set out to warn what can be lost, What out-of-pocket charges must be borne Expenses met; nor as a draughty ghost That’s seen, […]...
7. Hope in Failure THOUGH now thou hast failed and art fallen, despair not because of defeat, Though lost for a while be thy heaven and weary of earth be thy feet, For all will be beauty about thee hereafter through sorrowful years, And lovely the dews for thy chilling and ruby thy heart-drip of tears. The eyes that […]...
8. The Poet Fears Failure The poet fears failure & so she says “Hold on pen What if the critics Hate me?” & with that question She blots out more lines Than any critic could. The critic is only doing his job: Keeping the poet lonely. He barks Like a dog at the door When the master comes home. It’s […]...
9. Sing To Me Sing to me! Something of sunlight and bloom, I am so compassed with sorrow and gloom, I am so sick with the world’s noisse and strife, – Sing of the beauty and brightness of life – Sing to me, sing to me! Sing to me! Something that’s jubilant, glad! I am so weary, my soul […]...
10. HIS POETRY HIS PILLAR Only a little more I have to write: Then I’ll give o’er, And bid the world good-night. ‘Tis but a flying minute, That I must stay, Or linger in it: And then I must away. O Time, that cut’st down all, And scarce leav’st here Memorial Of any men that were; How many lie forgot […]...
11. The wanderer Upon a mountain height, far from the sea, I found a shell, And to my listening ear the lonely thing Ever a song of ocean seemed to sing, Ever a tale of ocean seemed to tell. How came the shell upon that mountain height? Ah, who can say Whether there dropped by some too careless […]...
12. Sing, Sweet Harp Sing, sweet Harp, oh sing to me Some song of ancient days, Whose sounds, in this sad memory, Long-buried dreams shall raise; Some lay that tells of vanish’d fame, Whose light once round us shone, Of noble pride, now turn’d to shame, And hopes for ever gone. Sing, sad Harp, thus sing to me; Alike […]...
13. The Word There are so many things I have forgot, That once were much to me, or that were not, All lost, as is a childless woman’s child And its child’s children, in the undefiled Abyss of what can never be again. I have forgot, too, names of the mighty men That fought and lost or won […]...
14. May 24, 1980 I have braved, for want of wild beasts, steel cages, Carved my term and nickname on bunks and rafters, Lived by the sea, flashed aces in an oasis, Dined with the-devil-knows-whom, in tails, on truffles. From the height of a glacier I beheld half a world, the earthly width. Twice have drowned, thrice let knives […]...
15. The Search Happiness, a-roving round For a sweet abiding place, In a stately palace found Symmetry and gilded grace; Courtliness and table cheer, All that chimes with evening dress. . . “I could never stick it here,” Swift decided Happiness. Happiness a-seeking still, In a mansion of the town, Comfort-crammed to overspill, Sought in vain to settle […]...
16. A Cabbage Patch Folk ask if I’m alive, Most think I’m not; Yet gaily I contrive To till my plot. The world its way can go, I little heed, So long as I can grow The grub I need. For though long overdue, The years to me, Have taught a lesson true, Humility. Such better men than I […]...
17. Sestina I wandered o’er the vast green plains of youth, And searched for Pleasure. On a distant height Fame’s silhouette stood sharp against the skies. Beyond vast crowds that thronged a broad highway I caught the glimmer of a golden goal, While from a blooming bower smiled siren Love. Straight gazing in her eyes, I laughed […]...
18. 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 […]...
19. Kail Yard Bard A very humble pen I ply Beneath a cottage thatch; And in the sunny hours I try To till my cabbage patch; And in the gloaming glad am I To lift the latch. I do not plot to pile up pelf, With jowl and belly fat; To simple song I give myself, And seek no […]...
20. The Old Stoic Riches I hold in light esteem, And love I laugh to scorn; And lust of fame was but a dream That vanish’d with the morn: And if I pray, the only prayer That moves my lips for me Is, “Leave the heart that now I bear, And give me liberty!” Yes, as my swift days […]...
21. 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 […]...
22. Fame's Penny-Trumpet Blow, blow your trumpets till they crack, Ye little men of little souls! And bid them huddle at your back – Gold-sucking leeches, shoals on shoals! Fill all the air with hungry wails – “Reward us, ere we think or write! Without your Gold mere Knowledge fails To sate the swinish appetite!” And, where great […]...
23. I Have Some Friends I have some friends, some worthy friends, And worthy friends are rare: These carpet slippers on my feet, That padded leather chair; This old and shabby dressing-gown, So well the worse of wear. I have some friends, some honest friends, And honest friends are few; My pipe of briar, my open fire, A book that’s […]...
24. About My Poetry I have no silver-saddled horse to ride, No inheritance to live on, Neither riches no real-estate A pot of honey is all I own. A pot of honey red as fire! My honey is my everything. I guard My riches and my real-estate my honey pot, I mean From pests of every species, Brother, just […]...
25. This Heart that Flutters Near My Heart This heart that flutters near my heart My hope and all my riches is, Unhappy when we draw apart And happy between kiss and kiss: My hope and all my riches – yes! – And all my happiness. For there, as in some mossy nest The wrens will divers treasures keep, I laid those treasures […]...
26. Come, Let Us Find Come, let us find a cottage, love, That’s green for half a mile around; To laugh at every grumbling bee, Whose sweetest blossom’s not yet found. Where many a bird shall sing for you, And in your garden build its nest: They’ll sing for you as though their eggs Were lying in your breast, My […]...
27. Femina Contra Mundum The sun was black with judgment, and the moon Blood: but between I saw a man stand, saying: ‘To me at least The grass is green. ‘There was no star that I forgot to fear With love and wonder. The birds have loved me’; but no answer came Only the thunder. Once more the man […]...
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 Red Blaze is the Morning The Red Blaze is the Morning The Violet is Noon The Yellow Day is falling And after that is none But Miles of Sparks at Evening Reveal the Width that burned The Territory Argent that Never yet consumed...
30. Paudeen Indignant at the fumbling wits, the obscure spite Of our old paudeen in his shop, I stumbled blind Among the stones and thorn-trees, under morning light; Until a curlew cried and in the luminous wind A curlew answered; and suddenly thereupon I thought That on the lonely height where all are in God’s eye, There […]...
31. 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 […]...
32. At leisure is the Soul At leisure is the Soul That gets a Staggering Blow The Width of Life before it spreads Without a thing to do It begs you give it Work But just the placing Pins Or humblest Patchwork Children do To Help its Vacant Hands...
33. How many schemes may die How many schemes may die In one short Afternoon Entirely unknown To those they most concern The man that was not lost Because by accident He varied by a Ribbon’s width From his accustomed route The Love that would not try Because beside the Door It must be competitions Some unsuspecting Horse was tied Surveying […]...
34. Vanity My tangoing seemed to delight her; With me it was love at first sight. I mentioned That I was a writer: She asked me: “What is it you write?” “Oh, only best-sellers,” I told her. Their titles? . . . She shook her blonde head; The atmosphere seemed to grow colder: Not one of my […]...
35. Maternity There once was a Square, such a square little Square, And he loved a trim Triangle; But she was a flirt and around her skirt Vainly she made him dangle. Oh he wanted to wed and he had no dread Of domestic woes and wrangles; For he thought that his fate was to procreate Cute […]...
36. L'Escargot D'Or O Tavern of the Golden Snail! Ten sous have I, so I’ll regale; Ten sous your amber brew to sip (Eight for the bock and two the tip), And so I’ll sit the evening long, And smoke my pipe and watch the throng, The giddy crowd that drains and drinks, I’ll watch it quiet as […]...
37. Somewhere upon the general Earth Somewhere upon the general Earth Itself exist Today The Magic passive but extant That consecrated me Indifferent Seasons doubtless play Where I for right to be Would pay each Atom that I am But Immortality Reserving that but just to prove Another Date of Thee Oh God of Width, do not for us Curtail Eternity!...
38. To be forgot by thee To be forgot by thee Surpasses Memory Of other minds The Heart cannot forget Unless it contemplate What it declines I was regarded then Raised from oblivion A single time To be remembered what Worthy to be forgot Is my renown...
39. 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 […]...
40. 395. Sonnet on the Author's Birthday SING on, sweet thrush, upon the leafless bough, Sing on, sweet bird, I listen to thy strain, See aged Winter, ‘mid his surly reign, At thy blythe carol, clears his furrowed brow. So in lone Poverty’s dominion drear, Sits meek Content with light, unanxious heart; Welcomes the rapid moments, bids them part, Nor asks if […]...