A Week Later

Related poetry:

1. Easter Week (In memory of Joseph Mary Plunkett) (“Romantic Ireland’s dead and gone, It’s with O’Leary in the grave.”) William Butler Yeats. “Romantic Ireland’s dead and gone, It’s with O’Leary in the grave.” Then, Yeats, what gave that Easter dawn A hue so radiantly brave? There was a rain of blood that day, Red rain in gay […]...
2. Twice a Week the Winter Thorough Twice a week the winter thorough Here stood I to keep the goal: Football then was fighting sorrow For the young man’s soul. Now in Maytime to the wicket Out I march with bat and pad: See the son of grief at cricket Trying to be glad. Try I will; no harm in trying: Wonder […]...
3. THE DAYS GO BY for Daniel Weissbort Some poems meant only for my eyes About a grief I can’t let go But I want to, want to throw It away like an old worn-out cloak Or screw up like a ball of over-written Trash and toss into the corner bin. I said it must come up or out I […]...
4. Authorship You say that father write a lot of books, but what he write I don’t Understand. He was reading to you all the evening, but could you really Make out what he meant? What nice stores, mother, you can tell us! Why can’t father Write like that, I wonder? Did he never hear from his […]...
5. The Soul has Bandaged moments The Soul has Bandaged moments When too appalled to stir She feels some ghastly Fright come up And stop to look at her Salute her with long fingers Caress her freezing hair Sip, Goblin, from the very lips The Lover hovered o’er Unworthy, that a thought so mean Accost a Theme so fair The soul […]...
6. MY PERFECT ROSE At ten she came to me, three years ago, There was ‘something between us’ even then; Watching her write like Eliot every day, Turn prose into haiku in ten minutes flat, Write a poem in Greek three weeks from learning the alphabet; Then translate it as ‘Sun on a tomb, gold place, small sacred horse’. […]...
7. Thirty Bob a Week I couldn’t touch a stop and turn a screw, And set the blooming world a-work for me, Like such as cut their teeth I hope, like you On the handle of a skeleton gold key; I cut mine on a leek, which I eat it every week: I’m a clerk at thirty bob as you […]...
8. Memorabilia of Last Week Monday, March 13, 1826 The Budget – quite charming and witty – no hearing, For plaudits and laughs, the good things that were in it; Great comfort to find, though the Speech isn’t cheering, That all its gay auditors were, every minute. What, still more prosperity! – mercy upon us, “This boy’ll be the death […]...
9. Threshold I was not aware of the moment When I first crossed the threshold of this life. What was the power that made me open out into this vast mystery Like a bud in the forest at midnight! When in the morning I looked upon the light I felt in a moment that I was no […]...
10. Nellie Clark I was only eight years old; And before I grew up and knew what it meant I had no words for it, except That I was frightened and told my Mother; And that my Father got a pistol And would have killed Charlie, who was a big boy, Fifteen years old, except for his Mother. […]...
11. Birth And Death Birth and death, twin-sister and twin-brother, Night and day, on all things that draw breath, Reign, while time keeps friends with one another Birth and death. Each brow-bound with flowers diverse of wreath, Heaven they hail as father, earth as mother, Faithful found above them and beneath. Smiles may lighten tears, and tears may smother […]...
12. My Centenarian A hundred years is a lot of living I’ve often thought. and I’ll know, maybe, Some day if the gods are good in giving, And grant me to turn the century. Yet in all my eighty years of being I’ve never known but one ancient man Who actively feeling, hearing, seeing, Survived t beyond the […]...
13. The Junk Man I AM glad God saw Death And gave Death a job taking care of all who are tired Of living: When all the wheels in a clock are worn and slow and The connections loose And the clock goes on ticking and telling the wrong time From hour to hour And people around the house […]...
14. The Hill Maples Here on a hill of the occident stand we shoulder to shoulder, Comrades tried and true through a mighty swath of the years! Spring harps glad laughter through us, and ministrant rains of the autumn Sing us again the songs of ancient dolor and tears. The glory of sunrise smites on our fair, free brows […]...
15. Journey Of The Magi ‘A cold coming we had of it, Just the worst time of the year For a journey, and such a journey: The ways deep and the weather sharp, The very dead of winter.’ And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory, Lying down in the melting snow. There were times we regretted The summer palaces on slopes, […]...
16. Red Dust This harpie with dry red curls Talked openly of her husband, His impotence, his death, the death Of her lover, the birth and death Of her own beauty. She stared Into the mirror next to Our table littered with the wreck Of her appetite and groaned: Look what you’ve done to me! As though only […]...
17. The Broken Tryst That day a fire was in my blood; I could have sung: joy wrapt me round; The men I met seemed all so good, I scarcely knew I trod the ground. How easy seemed all toil! I laughed To think that once I hated it. The sunlight thrilled like wine, I quaffed Delight, divine and […]...
18. The Minotaur The mahogany table-top you smashed Had been the broad plank top Of my mother’s heirloom sideboard- Mapped with the scars of my whole life. That came under the hammer. That high stool you swung that day Demented by my being Twenty minutes late for baby-minding. ‘Marvellous!’ I shouted, ‘Go on, Smash it into kindling. That’s […]...
19. The Loss of the Victoria Alas! Now o’er Britannia there hangs a gloom, Because over 400 British Tars have met with a watery tomb; Who served aboard the ” Victoria,” the biggest ship in the navy, And one of the finest battleships that ever sailed the sea. And commanded by Sir George Tyron, a noble hero bold, And his name […]...
20. Liebestod When I was bold, when I was bold- And that’s a hundred years!- Oh, never I thought my breast could hold The terrible weight of tears. I said: “Now some be dolorous; I hear them wail and sigh, And if it be Love that play them thus, Then never a love will I.” I said: […]...
21. Death And Birth Death and birth should dwell not near together: Wealth keeps house not, even for shame, with dearth: Fate doth ill to link in one brief tether Death and birth. Harsh the yoke that binds them, strange the girth Seems that girds them each with each: yet whether Death be best, who knows, or life on […]...
22. Lines Inscribed on The Wall of a Dungeon in The Southern P of I Though not a breath can enter here, I know the wind blows fresh and free; I know the sun is shining clear, Though not a gleam can visit me. They thought while I in darkness lay, ‘Twere pity that I should not know How all the earth is smiling gay; How fresh the vernal breezes […]...
23. The Pleasures Of Friendship The pleasures of friendship are exquisite, How pleasant to go to a friend on a visit! I go to my friend, we walk on the grass, And the hours and moments like minutes pass....
24. Dream Song 110: It was the blue & plain ones. I forget all that It was the blue & plain ones. I forget all that. My own clouds darkening hung. Besides, it wasn’t serious. They took them in different rooms & fed them lies. ‘She admitted you wanted to get rid of it.’ ‘He told us he told you to.’ The Force, with its rapists con-men murderers, Has been […]...
25. Boon Soul Behold! I’m old; my hair is white; My eighty years are in the offing, And sitting by the fire to-night I sip a grog to ease my coughing. It’s true I’m raucous as a rook, But feeling bibulously “bardy,” These lines I’m scribbling in a book: The verse complete of Thomas Hardy. Although to-day he’s […]...
26. A Creation Of Our Love We didn’t give birth to you – that is true, But you are still a creation of our love. For many years we prayed to the Heavens above To bless our lives with a new soul. With a precious new soul who Would make our family whole. And then one day – along you came […]...
27. It Is March It is March and black dust falls out of the books Soon I will be gone The tall spirit who lodged here has Left already On the avenues the colorless thread lies under Old prices When you look back there is always the past Even when it has vanished But when you look forward With […]...
28. Cristina I. She should never have looked at me If she meant I should not love her! There are plenty… men, you call such, I suppose… she may discover All her soul to, if she pleases, And yet leave much as she found them: But I’m not so, and she knew it When she fixed me, […]...
29. HOPE Do you believe, in what you see Do you believe in reality Do you believe in the sun that’s bright Do you believe in the stars in the night Do you believe in the birds that fly Do you believe in clouds and the sky Do you believe in wind that flows Do you believe […]...
30. Last Week Oh, the new-chum went to the backblock run, But he should have gone there last week. He tramped ten miles with a loaded gun, But of turkey of duck saw never a one, For he should have been there last week, They said, There were flocks of ’em there last week. He wended his way […]...
31. Week-Night Service The five old bells Are hurrying and eagerly calling, Imploring, protesting They know, but clamorously falling Into gabbling incoherence, never resting, Like spattering showers from a bursten sky-rocket dropping In splashes of sound, endlessly, never stopping. The silver moon That somebody has spun so high To settle the question, yes or no, has caught In […]...
32. Giorno dei Morti Along the avenue of cypresses, All in their scarlet cloaks and surplices Of linen, go the chanting choristers, The priests in gold and black, the villagers. . . And all along the path to the cemetery The round dark heads of men crowd silently, And black-scarved faces of womenfolk, wistfully Watch at the banner of […]...
33. Jacob Goodpasture When Fort Sumter fell and the war came I cried out in bitterness of soul: “O glorious republic now no more!” When they buried my soldier son To the call of trumpets and the sound of drums My heart broke beneath the weight Of eighty years, and I cried: “Oh, son who died in a […]...
34. 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; […]...
35. HOLY WEEK AT GENOA I wandered through Scoglietto’s far retreat, The oranges on each o’erhanging spray Burned as bright lamps of gold to shame the day; Some startled bird with fluttering wings and fleet Made snow of all the blossoms; at my feet Like silver moons the pale narcissi lay: And the curved waves that streaked the great green […]...
36. Easter Week See the land, her Easter keeping, Rises as her Maker rose. Seeds, so long in darkness sleeping, Burst at last from winter snows. Earth with heaven above rejoices; Fields and gardens hail the spring; Shaughs and woodlands ring with voices, While the wild birds build and sing. You, to whom your Maker granted Powers to […]...
37. When Coldness Wraps This Suffering Clay When coldness wraps this suffering clay, Ah! whither strays the immortal mind? It cannot die, it cannot stay, But leaves its darken’d dust behind. Then, unembodied, doth it trace By steps each planet’s heavenly way? Or fill at once the realms of space, A thing of eyes, that all survey? Eternal, boundless, undecay’d, A thought […]...
38. Dream Song 92: Room 231: the fourth week Something black somewhere in the vistas of his heart. Tulips from Tates teazed Henry in the mood To be a tulip and desire no more But water, but light, but air. Yet his nerves rattled blackly, unsubdued, & suffocation called, dream-whiskey’d pour Sirening. Rosy there Too fly my Phil & Ellen roses, pal. Flesh-coloured men […]...
39. I meant to find Her when I came I meant to find Her when I came Death had the same design But the Success was His it seems And the Surrender Mine I meant to tell Her how I longed For just this single time But Death had told Her so the first And she had past, with Him To wander now is […]...
40. 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 […]...