A Death-Bed

Related poetry:

1. THE GARDEN OF DEATH Weak but alive Dying yet still alive Huge eyes Round like golf balls White as bones Bony framed Fleshless Pus in orifices Worms Teeth, white teeth Skull and bones. Am sorry for life Oh this pain deeper than Only death can save My friend, I am sorry That you pain When you sleep, wake Pain, […]...
2. 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 […]...
3. Memorial To D. C (Vassar College, 1918) O, loveliest throat of all sweet throats, Where now no more the music is, With hands that wrote you little notes I write you little elegies!...
4. Death Wants More Death death wants more death, and its webs are full: I remember my father’s garage, how child-like I would brush the corpses of flies From the windows they thought were escape- Their sticky, ugly, vibrant bodies Shouting like dumb crazy dogs against the glass Only to spin and flit In that second larger than hell or […]...
5. Death My body, eh? Friend Death, how now? Why all this tedious pomp of writ? Thou hast reclaimed it sure and slow For half a century bit by bit. In faith thou knowest more to-day Than I do, where it can be found! This shrivelled lump of suffering clay, To which I am now chained and […]...
6. His Meditation Upon Death BE those few hours, which I have yet to spend, Blest with the meditation of my end; Though they be few in number, I’m content; If otherwise, I stand indifferent, Nor makes it matter, Nestor’s years to tell, If man lives long, and if he live not well. A multitude of days still heaped on […]...
7. Let Me Die a Youngman's Death Let me die a youngman’s death Not a clean and inbetween The sheets holywater death Not a famous-last-words Peaceful out of breath death When I’m 73 And in constant good tumour May I be mown down at dawn By a bright red sports car On my way home From an allnight party Or when I’m […]...
8. 303. Song-The Gowden Locks of Anna YESTREEN I had a pint o’ wine, A place where body saw na; Yestreen lay on this breast o’ mine The gowden locks of Anna. The hungry Jew in wilderness, Rejoicing o’er his manna, Was naething to my hinny bliss Upon the lips of Anna. Ye monarchs, take the East and West Frae Indus to […]...
9. An Elegy on the Death of Montgomery Tappen An elegy on the death of MONTGOMERY TAPPEN who dies at Poughkeepsie on the 20th of Nov. 1784 in the ninth year of his age. The sweetest, gentlest, of the youthful train, Here lies his clay cold upon the sable bier! He scarce had started on life’s varied plain, For dreary death arrested his career. […]...
10. On The Death Of Sir Rowland Cotton Seconding That Of Sir Robert More Cottons yet? O let not envious Fate Attempt the Ruine of our growing State. O had it spar’d Sir Rowland, then might wee Have almost spar’d Sir Robert’s Library. His Life and th’ others bookes taught but the same; Death kils us twice in blotting twice one Name. Give Him, and take those Reliques […]...
11. 347. Song-Ye Jacobites by Name YE Jacobites by name, give an ear, give an ear, Ye Jacobites by name, give an ear, Ye Jacobites by name, Your fautes I will proclaim, Your doctrines I maun blame, you shall hear. What is Right, and What is Wrang, by the law, by the law? What is Right and what is Wrang by […]...
12. In Memoriam 82: I Wage Not Any Feud With Death I wage not any feud with Death For changes wrought on form and face; No lower life that earth’s embrace May breed with him, can fright my faith. Eternal process moving on, From state to state the spirit walks; And these are but the shatter’d stalks, Or ruin’d chrysalis of one. Nor blame I Death, […]...
13. 289. Song-Awa', Whigs, Awa&#039 Chorus.-Awa’ Whigs, awa’! Awa’ Whigs, awa’! Ye’re but a pack o’ traitor louns, Ye’ll do nae gude at a’. OUR thrissles flourish’d fresh and fair, And bonie bloom’d our roses; But Whigs cam’ like a frost in June, An’ wither’d a’ our posies. Awa’ Whigs, &c. Our ancient crown’s fa’en in the dust- Deil blin’ […]...
14. Giving Myself Up I give up my eyes which are glass eggs. I give up my tongue. I give up my mouth which is the contstant dream of my tongue. I give up my throat which is the sleeve of my voice. I give up my heart which is a burning apple. I give up my lungs which […]...
15. Death is potential to that Man Death is potential to that Man Who dies and to his friend Beyond that unconspicuous To Anyone but God Of these Two God remembers The longest for the friend Is integral and therefore Itself dissolved of God...
16. Doctors 1923 Man dies too soon, beside his works half-planned. His days are counted and reprieve is vain: Who shall entreat with Death to stay his hand; Or cloke the shameful nakedness of pain? Send here the bold, the seekers of the way The passionless, the unshakeable of soul, Who serve the inmost mysteries of man’s […]...
17. A Funeral Poem on the Death of C. E Through airy roads he wings his instant flight To purer regions of celestial light; Enlarg’d he sees unnumber’d systems roll, Beneath him sees the universal whole, Planets on planets run their destin’d round, And circling wonders fill the vast profound. Th’ ethereal now, and now th’ empyreal skies With growing splendors strike his wond’ring eyes: […]...
18. 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 […]...
19. Mutation They talk of short-lived pleasure be it so Pain dies as quickly; stern, hard-featured pain Expires, and lets her weary prisoner go. The fiercest agonies have shortest reign; And after dreams of horror, comes again The welcome morning with its rays of peace. Oblivion, softly wiping out the stain, Makes the strong secret pangs of […]...
20. The Civil War I am torn in two But I will conquer myself. I will dig up the pride. I will take scissors And cut out the beggar. I will take a crowbar And pry out the broken Pieces of God in me. Just like a jigsaw puzzle, I will put Him together again With the patience of […]...
21. On the Death of a Minister His master taken from his head, Elisha saw him go; And in desponding accents said, “Ah, what must Israel do?” But he forgot the Lord who lifts The beggar to the throne; Nor knew that all Elijah’s gifts Would soon be made his own. What! when a Paul has run his course, Or when Apollos […]...
22. Farewell, Ungrateful Traitor! Farewell, ungrateful traitor! Farewell, my perjur’d swain! Let never injur’d woman Believe a man again. The pleasure of possessing Surpasses all expressing, But ’tis too short a blessing, And love too long a pain. ‘Tis easy to deceive us In pity of your pain, But when we love, you leave us To rail at you […]...
23. The Death Of Autumn When reeds are dead and a straw to thatch the marshes, And feathered pampas-grass rides into the wind Like aged warriors westward, tragic, thinned Of half their tribe, and over the flattened rushes, Stripped of its secret, open, stark and bleak, Blackens afar the half-forgotten creek,- Then leans on me the weight of the year, […]...
24. Death of the Bird For every bird there is this last migration; Once more the cooling year kindles her heart; With a warm passage to the summer station Love pricks the course in lights across the chart. Year after year a speck on the map, divided By a whole hemisphere, summons her to come; Season after season, sure and […]...
25. Run to Death A True Incident of Pre-Revolutionary French History. Now the lovely autumn morning breathes its freshness in earth’s face, In the crowned castle courtyard the blithe horn proclaims the chase; And the ladies on the terrace smile adieux with rosy lips To the huntsmen disappearing down the cedar-shaded groves, Wafting delicate aromas from their scented finger […]...
26. The Death Of The Ball Turret Gunner From my mother’s sleep I fell into the State, And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze. Six miles from earth, loosed from its dream of life, I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters. When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose....
27. On the Death of the Honourable Mr. James Thynne Farewell, lov’d Youth! since ’twas the Will of Heaven So soon to take, what had so late been giv’n; And thus our Expectations to destroy, Raising a Grief, where we had form’d a Joy; Who once believ’d, it was the Fates Design In Him to double an Illustrious Line, And in a second Channel spread […]...
28. LAO-TSE PREPARES A VERDICT Nothing of what I say May deviate the fall of a leaf. A word will not Detain the other one. It’s useless for me to dedicate A truth to these listeners: They will turn it into pieces. From its pieces Lao-Tsé will be born....
29. Epilogue UNDER THE BLESSING OF YOUR PSYCHE WINGS Though I have found you llke a snow-drop pale, On sunny days have found you weak and still, Though I have often held your girlish head Drooped on my shoulder, faint from little ill:- Under the blessing of your Psyche-wings I hide to-night like one small broken bird, […]...
30. Goodbye S. S Go away girl, go away And let me pack my dreams Now where did I put those yesteryears Made up with broken seams Where shall I sweep the pieces My God they still look new There’s a taxi waiting at the door But there’s only room for you...
31. Sonnet 38 – First time he kissed me, he but only kissed First time he kissed me, he but only kissed The fingers of this hand wherewith I write; And ever since, it grew more clean and white, Slow to world-greetings, quick with its ‘Oh, list,’ When the angels speak. A ring of amethyst I could not wear here, plainer to my sight, Than that first kiss. […]...
32. To a Gentleman and Lady on the Death of the Lady's Brother and Sister On Death’s domain intent I fix my eyes, Where human nature in vast ruin lies, With pensive mind I search the drear abode, Where the great conqu’ror has his spoils bestow’d; There there the offspring of six thousand years In endless numbers to my view appears: Whole kingdoms in his gloomy den are thrust, And […]...
33. Death Of A Poet Laid now on his smooth bed For the last time, watching dully Through heavy eyelids the day’s colour Widow the sky, what can he say Worthy of record, the books all open, Pens ready, the faces, sad, Waiting gravely for the tired lips To move once what can he say? His tongue wrestles to force […]...
34. A Curse For A Nation I heard an angel speak last night, And he said ‘Write! Write a Nation’s curse for me, And send it over the Western Sea.’ I faltered, taking up the word: ‘Not so, my lord! If curses must be, choose another To send thy curse against my brother. ‘For I am bound by gratitude, By love […]...
35. Honour's Martyr The moon is full this winter night; The stars are clear, though few; And every window glistens bright, With leaves of frozen dew. The sweet moon through your lattice gleams And lights your room like day; And there you pass, in happy dreams, The peaceful hours away! While I, with effort hardly quelling The anguish […]...
36. Hamlet Off-Stage: Hambeau Heartbroke Horny Ophelia claims we’re dead and gives me back All my Frank Zappa and the Mothers albums. I nearly claw out of my shell and say, “You can’t,” but for a moment I’ve nothing To quote. I’m rot, mortis of broken heart. Hog wash! Lovers don’t die of broken hearts. Lovebirds perish because of broken heads, […]...
37. Falltime GOLD of a ripe oat straw, gold of a southwest moon, Canada thistle blue and flimmering larkspur blue, Tomatoes shining in the October sun with red hearts, Shining five and six in a row on a wooden fence, Why do you keep wishes on your faces all day long, Wishes like women with half-forgotten lovers […]...
38. Death In Leamington She died in the upstairs bedroom By the light of the ev’ning star That shone through the plate glass window From over Leamington Spa Beside her the lonely crochet Lay patiently and unstirred, But the fingers that would have work’d it Were dead as the spoken word. And Nurse came in with the tea-things Breast […]...
39. Wait till the Majesty of Death Wait till the Majesty of Death Invests so mean a brow! Almost a powdered Footman Might dare to touch it now! Wait till in Everlasting Robes That Democrat is dressed, Then prate about “Preferment” And “Station,” and the rest! Around this quiet Courtier Obsequious Angels wait! Full royal is his Retinue! Full purple is his […]...
40. Troth with the Dead The moon is broken in twain, and half a moon Before me lies on the still, pale floor of the sky; The other half of the broken coin of troth Is buried away in the dark, where the still dead lie. They buried her half in the grave when they laid her away; I had […]...