Sympathy

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1. A Lover's Envy I envy every flower that blows Along the meadow where she goes, And every bird that sings to her, And every breeze that brings to her The fragrance of the rose. I envy every poet’s rhyme That moves her heart at eventime, And every tree that wears for her Its brightest bloom, and bears for […]...
2. 233. Song-O were I on Parnassus Hill O, WERE I on Parnassus hill, Or had o’ Helicon my fill, That I might catch poetic skill, To sing how dear I love thee! But Nith maun be my Muse’s well, My Muse maun be thy bonie sel’, On Corsincon I’ll glowr and spell, And write how dear I love thee. Then come, sweet […]...
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. Poet's Path My garden hath a slender path With ivy overgrown, A secret place where once would pace A pot all alone; I see him now with fretted brow, Plunged deep in thought; And sometimes he would write maybe, And sometimes he would not. A verse a day he used to say Keeps worry from the door; […]...
5. I envy Seas, whereon He rides I envy Seas, whereon He rides I envy Spokes of Wheels Of Chariots, that Him convey I envy Crooked Hills That gaze upon His journey How easy All can see What is forbidden utterly As Heaven unto me! I envy Nests of Sparrows That dot His distant Eaves The wealthy Fly, upon His Pane The […]...
6. 540. Inscription to Chloris ‘TIS Friendship’s pledge, my young, fair Friend, Nor thou the gift refuse, Nor with unwilling ear attend The moralising Muse. Since thou, in all thy youth and charms, Must bid the world adieu, (A world ‘gainst Peace in constant arms) To join the Friendly Few. Since, thy gay morn of life o’ercast, Chill came the […]...
7. Wonder For failure I was well equipped And should have come to grief, By atavism grimly gripped, A fool beyond belief. But lo! the Lord was good to me, And with a heart to sing, He gave me to a rare degree The Gift of Wondering. I could not play a stalwart part My shoddy soul […]...
8. Sight Unseemly are the open eyes That watch the midnight sheep, That look upon the secret skies Nor close, abashed, in sleep; That see the dawn drag in, unbidden, To birth another day- Oh, better far their gaze were hidden Below the decent clay....
9. The Living Dead Since I have come to years sedate I see with more and more acumen The bitter irony of Fate, The vanity of all things human. Why, just to-day some fellow said, As I surveyed Fame’s outer portal: “By gad! I thought that you were dead.” Poor me, who dreamed to be immortal! But that’s the […]...
10. 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 […]...
11. Elizabeth Elizabeth, it surely is most fit [Logic and common usage so commanding] In thy own book that first thy name be writ, Zeno and other sages notwithstanding; And I have other reasons for so doing Besides my innate love of contradiction; Each poet – if a poet – in pursuing The muses thro’ their bowers […]...
12. Sympathy If I were only a little puppy, not your baby, mother dear, would You say “No” to me if I tried to eat from your dish? Would you drive me off, saying to me, “Get away, you naughty Little puppy?” Then go, mother, go! I will never come to you when you call Me, and […]...
13. Sympathy I know what the caged bird feels, alas! When the sun is bright on the upland slopes; When the wind stirs soft through the springing grass, And the river flows like a stream of glass; When the first bird sings and the first bud opes, And the faint perfume from its chalice steals I know […]...
14. Sympathy Therefore I dare reveal my private woe, The secret blots of my imperfect heart, Nor strive to shrink or swell mine own desert, Nor beautify nor hide. For this I know, That even as I am, thou also art. Thou past heroic forms unmoved shalt go, To pause and bide with me, to whisper low: […]...
15. Sympathy There should be no despair for you While nightly stars are burning, While evening pours its silent dew And sunshine gilds the morning. There should be no despair – though tears May flow down like a river: Are not the best beloved of years Around your heart forever? They weep – you weep – it […]...
16. Song of Myself I was a Poet! But I did not know it, Neither did my Mother, Nor my Sister nor my Brother. The Rich were not aware of it; The Poor took no care of it. The Reverend Mr. Drewitt Never knew it. The High did not suspect it; The Low could not detect it. Aunt Sue […]...
17. To A Stuffed Shirt On the tide you ride head high, Like a whale ‘mid little fishes; I should envy you as I Help my wife to wash the dishes. Yet frock-coat and stove-pipe hat Cannot hide your folds of fat. You are reckoned a success, And the public praise you win; There’s your picture in the Press, Pouchy […]...
18. POEM TO BE PLACED IN A BOTTLE AND CAST OUT TO SEA for Ken Kesey and his merry pranksters in a bus called ‘Further…’ Dear and here’s where the problem begins For who shall I address this letter to? Friends are few and very special, muses in the main I must confess, the first I lost just fifty years ago. Perhaps the best. I searched for years […]...
19. Impromptu, to Lady Winchelsea In vain you boast Poetic Names of yore, And cite those Sapho’s we admire no more: Fate doom’d the Fall of ev’ry Female Wit, But doom’d it then when first Ardelia writ. Of all Examples by the World confest, I knew Ardelia could not quote the best; Who, like her Mistress on Britannia’s Throne; Fights, […]...
20. Two Octaves I Not by the grief that stuns and overwhelms All outward recognition of revealed And righteous omnipresence are the days Of most of us affrighted and diseased, But rather by the common snarls of life That come to test us and to strengthen us In this the prentice-age of discontent, Rebelliousness, faint-heartedness, and shame. II […]...
21. A monument in words And so I had a glaring revelation, I couldn’t find the poet in the man although I read his life composed by writers true disposed To tell it with veracity. They built a monument in words And deeds, a shrine of writers’ reeds inlaid with refined And proper quotes. Those motes were hardly real; I […]...
22. THE DEATH OF ART “Reading well is one of the great pleasures that solitude can afford you.” -critic Harold Bloom, who first called slam poetry “the death of art.” I am not a poet. I want to be rich and buy things for my family. Besides, I am sort of popular and can honestly say I’ve had a great […]...
23. Thank you Ambrose Thank you Ambrose for the kitchen door ajar, A sign your friendship never closed on me, an amity extended From afar although it was a distant glow I didn’t really know. Thank you Ambrose for staying staunch and true, A fellowship renewed in time of need, reviewed each time indeed Concentric paths of earthy spheres […]...
24. Statement of Being I am a grave poetic hen That lays poetic eggs And to enhance my temperament A little quiet begs. We make the yolk philosophy, True beauty the albumen. And then gum on a shell of form To make the screed sound human....
25. REQUIESCAM (May I lie in peace) Let there be grass and trees to blow And fold me in their shadow Branches to shake and leaves Turn brown, fall and lie fallow. Let there be moorlands swept by wind And raked by rain, purple splashes of heather In autumn and sturdy boulders our forefathers Carved their names […]...
26. Class-Mates Bob Briggs went in for Government, And helps to run the State; Some day they say he’ll represent His party in debate: But with punk politics his job, I do not envy Bob. Jim Jones went in for writing books, Best sellers were his aim; He’s ten years younger than he looks, And licks the […]...
27. 324. Song-The Charms of Lovely Davies O HOW shall I, unskilfu’, try The poet’s occupation? The tunefu’ powers, in happy hours, That whisper inspiration; Even they maun dare an effort mair Than aught they ever gave us, Ere they rehearse, in equal verse, The charms o’ lovely Davies. Each eye it cheers when she appears, Like Phoebus in the morning, When […]...
28. Brother Jim My brother Jim’s a millionaire, While I have scarce a penny; His face is creased with lines of care, While my mug hasn’t any. With inwardness his eyes are dim, While mine laugh out in glee, And though I ought to envy him, I think he envies me. He has a chateau, I a shack, […]...
29. Admire their style I’m reading fellow poets’ blogs today, A sustaining source of entertainment; I admire their style without exciting comment Or resorting to an unkind eye, simple though It is to sigh about uneasy affirmation. I hope when they read me (if they ever do) They rest as easy on my lack of finished form, The hazy, […]...
30. Indifference When I am dead I will not care Forever more, If sky be radiantly fair Or tempest roar. If my life-hoard in sin be spent, My wife re-wed, I’ll be so damned indifferent When I am dead. When I meet up with dusty doom What if I rest In common ditch or marble tomb, If […]...
31. Exeat I remember the Roman Emperor, one of the cruellest of them, Who used to visit for pleasure his poor prisoners cramped in dungeons, So then they would beg him for death, and then he would say: Oh no, oh no, we are not yet friends enough. He meant they were not yet friends enough for […]...
32. On – On – Poet I to the open road, You to the hunchbacked street – Which of us two Shall the earlier rue That day we chanced to meet? I with a heart that’s sound, You with sick fancies of pain – Which of us two Would the earlier rue If we chanced to meet again? I jingle homely […]...
33. Shakespeare And Cervantes Obit 23rd April 1616 Is it not strange that on this common date, Two titans of their age, aye of all Time, Together should renounce this mortal state, And rise like gods, unsullied and sublime? Should mutually render up the ghost, And hand n hand join Jove’s celestial host? What wondrous welcome from the scribes […]...
34. Sonnet 19 – The soul's Rialto hath its merchandise XIX The soul’s Rialto hath its merchandise; I barter curl for curl upon that mart, And from my poet’s forehead to my heart Receive this lock which outweighs argosies,- As purply black, as erst to Pindar’s eyes The dim purpureal tresses gloomed athwart The nine white Muse-brows. For this counterpart, . . . The bay-crown’s […]...
35. Why Do Birds Sing? Let poets piece prismatic words, Give me the jewelled joy of birds! What ecstasy moves them to sing? Is it the lyric glee of Spring, The dewy rapture of the rose? Is it the worship born in those Who are of Nature’s self a part, The adoration of the heart? Is it the mating mood […]...
36. The Poet Words flow onto paper like rain, forming giant rivers Of unseen lands. The very force guides us along a journey That holds of great adventure. We are the explorers of the literary world. We must find the courage to write what Others are unable to, with the greatest Of passion. A poet dreams. and then […]...
37. Out of ideas If I don’t write something good tonight I will sleep Without the comforting Canopus of deep believers, If I sleep at all, and this light which ignites My enormous poetic conceit and guides my muse Will suffer and die, my hands be stilled. Tomorrow I might read these words and endure The bite of astral […]...
38. Forsaken promises Nothing came to claim my muse, instead I dreamed Of freedoms neatly folded in a treasure chest lying in the debris Of a crater; the best were simple choices, the rest forsaken Promises bombed to shreds beside their makers. All around the sound of raging thunder rumbled In a night lit bright by streaks of […]...
39. The Highway Highway, since you my chief Parnassus be, And that my Muse, to some ears not unsweet, Tempers her words to trampling horses’ feet More oft than to a chamber-melody, Now blessed you bear onward blessèd me To her, where I my heart, safe-left, shall meet; My Muse and I must you of duty greet With […]...
40. Sonnet LXXXIV: Highway Highway, since you my chief Parnassus be, And that my Muse, to some ears not unsweet, Tempers her words to trampling horses’ feet More oft than to a chamber melody. Now, blessed you bear onward blessed me To her, where I my heart, safe-left, shall meet: My Muse and I must you of duty greet […]...