The Goat And I

Related poetry:

1. An Arab Shepherd Is Searching For His Goat On Mount Zion An Arab shepherd is searching for his goat on Mount Zion And on the opposite hill I am searching for my little boy. An Arab shepherd and a Jewish father Both in their temporary failure. Our two voices met above The Sultan’s Pool in the valley between us. Neither of us wants the boy or […]...
2. The Billy-Goat Overland Come all ye lads of the droving days, ye gentlemen unafraid, I’ll tell you all of the greatest trip that ever a drover made, For we rolled our swags, and we packed our bags, and taking our lives in hand, We started away with a thousand goats, on the billy-goat overland. There wasn’t a fence […]...
3. By the Hoof of the Wild Goat By the Hoof of the Wild Goat uptossed From the cliff where she lay in the Sun Fell the Stone To the Tarn where the daylight is lost, So she fell from the light of the Sun And alone! Now the fall was ordained from the first With the Goat and the Cliff and the […]...
4. The Wild Goat O you would clothe me in silken frocks And house me from the cold, And bind with bright bands my glossy locks, And buy me chains of gold; And give me meekly to do my will The hapless sons of men: But the wild goat bounding on the barren hill Droops in the grassy pen....
5. The Ballad Of Casey's Billy-Goat You’ve heard of “Casey at The Bat,” And “Casey’s Tabble Dote”; But now it’s time To write a rhyme Of “Casey’s Billy-goat.” Pat Casey had a billy-goat he gave the name of Shamus, Because it was (the neighbours said) a national disgrace. And sure enough that animal was eminently famous For masticating every rag of […]...
6. Cows I love to watch my seven cows In meads of buttercups abrowse, With guilded knees; But even more I love to see Them chew the cud so tranquilly In twilight ease. Each is the image of content From fragrant hours in clover spent, ‘Mid leaf and bud; As up and down without a pause Mechanically […]...
7. The Hog, The Sheep, And Goat, Carrying To A FAIR Who does not wish, ever to judge aright, And, in the Course of Life’s Affairs, To have a quick, and far extended Sight, Tho’ it too often multiplies his Cares? And who has greater Sense, but greater Sorrow shares? This felt the Swine, now carrying to the Knife; And whilst the Lamb and silent Goat […]...
8. Infirmities Because my teeth are feebly few I cannot bolt my grub like you, But have to chew and chew and chew As you can see; Yet every mouthful seems so good I would not haste it if I could, And so I salivate my food With ecstasy. Because my purse is poor in pence I […]...
9. DOUBLE VILLANELLE I. O goat-foot God of Arcady! This modern world is grey and old, And what remains to us of thee? No more the shepherd lads in glee Throw apples at thy wattled fold, O goat-foot God of Arcady! Nor through the laurels can one see Thy soft brown limbs, thy beard of gold And what […]...
10. 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 […]...
11. Stalk Me Liner Notes – (from Love Is A Dog From Hell) My friend Jenny is really Worried that people are going to follow me around and send me dead animal Parts and doll heads as a result of this song but please, if you feel inclined To send me dead animal parts, think it through. Thanks. […]...
12. 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...
13. EXPLANATION OF AN ANTIQUE GEM A YOUNG fig-tree its form lifts high Within a beauteous garden; And see, a goat is sitting by. As if he were its warden. But oh, Quirites, how one errs! The tree is guarded badly; For round the other side there whirrs And hums a beetle madly. The hero with his well-mail’d coat Nibbles the […]...
14. In Memory of Maggie A pussy-cat who was the household pet for seventeen years. Naught but a little cat, you say; Yet we remember her, A creature loving, loyal, kind, With merry, mellow purr; The faithful friend of many years, Shall we not give her meed of tears? Sleek-suited in her velvet coat, White-breasted and bright-eyed, Feeling when she […]...
15. Tristia I have studied the Science of departures, In night’s sorrows, when a woman’s hair falls down. The oxen chew, there’s the waiting, pure, In the last hours of vigil in the town, And I reverence night’s ritual cock-crowing, When reddened eyes lift sorrow’s load and choose To stare at distance, and a woman’s crying Is […]...
16. 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 […]...
17. 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 […]...
18. Rotgut The sun shall not smite thee by day, nor the moon by night. Psalm 121 On a hillside scattered with temples broken Under the dogday sun, my friend and I drank Local wine at nightfall and ate grapeleaves In goat-yogurt glaze. The living grape vines Bore fruit overhead. Beyond our balcony, Beyond the Turkish rooftops, […]...
19. 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 […]...
20. Willard Fluke My wife lost her health, And dwindled until she weighed scarce ninety pounds. Then that woman, whom the men Styled Cleopatra, came along. And we we married ones All broke our vows, myself among the rest. Years passed and one by one Death claimed them all in some hideous form, And I was borne along […]...
21. Anna Who Was Mad Anna who was mad, I have a knife in my armpit. When I stand on tiptoe I tap out messages. Am I some sort of infection? Did I make you go insane? Did I make the sounds go sour? Did I tell you to climb out the window? Forgive. Forgive. Say not I did. Say […]...
22. 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 […]...
23. 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 […]...
24. Flower Gardener Gas got me in the first World War, And all my mates at rest are laid. I felt I might survive them for I am a gardener by trade. My life is in the open air, And kindly is the work I do, Since flowers are my joy and care, And comfort too. My flowers […]...
25. Lullaby It is a summer evening. The yellow moths sag Against the locked screens And the faded curtains Suck over the window sills And from another building A goat calls in his dreams. This is the TV parlor In the best ward at Bedlam. The night nurse is passing Out the evening pills. She walks on […]...
26. "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 […]...
27. Think Of It Not, Sweet One Think not of it, sweet one, so; – Give it not a tear; Sigh thou mayst, and bid it go Any – anywhere. Do not lool so sad, sweet one, – Sad and fadingly; Shed one drop then, – it is gone – O ’twas born to die! Still so pale? then, dearest, weep; Weep, […]...
28. A Faery Song Sung by the people of Faery over Diarmuid and Grania, In their bridal sleep under a Cromlech. We who are old, old and gay, O so old! Thousands of years, thousands of years, If all were told: Give to these children, new from the world, Silence and love; And the long dew-dropping hours of the […]...
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. LEGEND THERE lived in the desert a holy man To whom a goat-footed Faun one day Paid a visit, and thus began To his surprise: “I entreat thee to pray That grace to me and my friends may be given, That we may be able to mount to Heaven, For great is our thirst for heav’nly […]...
31. John Horace Burleson I won the prize essay at school Here in the village, And published a novel before I was twenty-five. I went to the city for themes and to enrich my art; There married the banker’s daughter, And later became president of the bank- Always looking forward to some leisure To write an epic novel of […]...
32. Work When twenty-one I loved to dream, And was to loafing well inclined; Somehow I couldn’t get up steam To welcome work of any kind. While students burned the midnight lamp, With dour ambition as their goad, I longed to be a gayful tramp And greet adventure on the road. But now that sixty years have […]...
33. 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 […]...
34. Lost Shepherd Ah me! How hard is destiny! If we could only know. . . . I bought my son from Sicily A score of years ago; I haled him from our sunny vale To streets of din and squalor, And left it to professors pale To make of him a scholar. Had he remained a peasant […]...
35. 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 […]...
36. Demon A young man is afraid of his demon and puts his hand Over the demon’s mouth sometimes… D. H. Lawrence I mentioned my demon to a friend And the friend swam in oil and came forth to me Greasy and cryptic And said, “I’m thinking of taking him out of hock. I pawned him years […]...
37. Grandad Heaven’s mighty sweet, I guess; Ain’t no rush to git there: Been a sinner, more or less; Maybe wouldn’t fit there. Wicked still, bound to confess; Might jest pine a bit there. Heaven’s swell, the preachers say: Got so used to earth here; Had such good times all the way, Frolic, fun and mirth here; […]...
38. 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 […]...
39. To a Child of Quality, Five Years Old, 1704. The Author then Forty LORDS, knights, and squires, the numerous band That wear the fair Miss Mary’s fetters, Were summoned by her high command To show their passions by their letters. My pen amongst the rest I took, Lest those bright eyes, that cannot read, Should dart their kindling fire, and look The power they have to be obey’d. […]...
40. 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; […]...