Contagion

Related poetry:

1. Ballade of Unfortunate Mammals Love is sharper than stones or sticks; Lone as the sea, and deeper blue; Loud in the night as a clock that ticks; Longer-lived than the Wandering Jew. Show me a love was done and through, Tell me a kiss escaped its debt! Son, to your death you’ll pay your due- Women and elephants never […]...
2. Have A Nice Day ‘Help, help, ‘ said a man. ‘I’m drowning.’ ‘Hang on, ‘ said a man from the shore. ‘Help, help, ‘ said the man. ‘I’m not clowning.’ ‘Yes, I know, I heard you before. Be patient dear man who is drowning, You, see I’ve got a disease. I’m waiting for a Doctor J. Browning. So do […]...
3. Super Samson Simpson I am Super Samson Simpson, I’m superlatively strong, I like to carry elephants, I do it all day long, I pick up half a dozen And hoist them in the air, It’s really somewhat simple, For I have strength to spare. My muscles are enormous, They bulge from top to toe, And when I carry […]...
4. At The Fishhouses Although it is a cold evening, Down by one of the fishhouses An old man sits netting, His net, in the gloaming almost invisible, A dark purple-brown, And his shuttle worn and polished. The air smells so strong of codfish It makes one’s nose run and one’s eyes water. The five fishhouses have steeply peaked […]...
5. 190. Song-Lady Onlie, Honest Luckie A’ THE lads o’ Thorniebank, When they gae to the shore o’ Bucky, They’ll step in an’ tak a pint Wi’ Lady Onlie, honest Lucky. Chorus.-Lady Onlie, honest Lucky, Brews gude ale at shore o’ Bucky; I wish her sale for her gude ale, The best on a’ the shore o’ Bucky. Her house sae […]...
6. To flee from memory To flee from memory Had we the Wings Many would fly Inured to slower things Birds with surprise Would scan the cowering Van Of men escaping From the mind of man...
7. Little Aggie When Joe Dove took his elephants out on the road He made each one hold fast with his trunk To the tail of the elephant walking in front To stop them from doing a bunk. There were fifteen in all, so ’twere rather a job To get them linked up in a row, But once […]...
8. 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 […]...
9. Obsessive Combination Of Onotological Inscape, Trickery And Love Busy, with an idea for a code, I write Signals hurrying from left to right, Or right to left, by obscure routes, For my own reasons; taking a word like writes Down tiers of tries until its secret rites Make sense; or until, suddenly, RATS Can amazingly and funnily become STAR And right to left […]...
10. Pictured My work, I’m very careful about it, and I love it. But today I’m discouraged by how slowly it’s going. The day has affected my mood. It gets darker and darker. Endless wind and rain. I’m more in the mood for looking than for writing. In this picture, I’m now gazing at a handsome boy […]...
11. A House upon the Height A House upon the Height That Wagon never reached No Dead, were ever carried down No Peddler’s Cart approached Whose Chimney never smoked Whose Windows Night and Morn Caught Sunrise first and Sunset last Then held an Empty Pane Whose fate Conjecture knew No other neighbor did And what it was we never lisped Because […]...
12. 514. Song-The Lass o' Ecclefechan GAT ye me, O gat ye me, O gat ye me wi’ naething? Rock an reel, and spinning wheel, A mickle quarter basin: Bye attour my Gutcher has A heich house and a laich ane, A’ forbye my bonie sel, The toss o’ Ecclefechan. O haud your tongue now, Lucky Lang, O haud your tongue […]...
13. 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...
14. There Is No God, the Wicked Sayeth “There is no God,” the wicked saith, “And truly it’s a blessing, For what He might have done with us It’s better only guessing.” “There is no God,” a youngster thinks, “or really, if there may be, He surely did not mean a man Always to be a baby.” “There is no God, or if […]...
15. Arrival At Santos Here is a coast; here is a harbor; Here, after a meager diet of horizon, is some scenery: Impractically shaped and who knows? self-pitying mountains, Sad and harsh beneath their frivolous greenery, With a little church on top of one. And warehouses, Some of them painted a feeble pink, or blue, And some tall, uncertain […]...
16. 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...
17. Dutch lullaby Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night Sailed off in a wooden shoe, Sailed on a river of misty light Into a sea of dew. “Where are you going, and what do you wish?” The old moon asked the three. “We have come to fish for the herring-fish That live in this beautiful sea; Nets of […]...
18. Wynken, Blynken, and Nod Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night Sailed off in a wooden shoe, Sailed on a river of crystal light Into a sea of dew. “Where are you going, and what do you wish?” The old moon asked the three. “We have come to fish for the herring-fish That live in this beautiful sea; Nets of […]...
19. 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 […]...
20. 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 […]...
21. Said The Poet To The Analyst My business is words. Words are like labels, Or coins, or better, like swarming bees. I confess I am only broken by the sources of things; As if words were counted like dead bees in the attic, Unbuckled from their yellow eyes and their dry wings. I must always forget who one words is able […]...
22. 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!...
23. Morning Glories Blue and dark-blue rose and deepest rose white and pink they Are everywhere in the diligent cornfield rising and swaying in their reliable Finery in the little fling of their bodies their gear and tackle All caught up in the cornstalks. The reaper’s story is the story of endless work of Work careful and heavy […]...
24. 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 […]...
25. No Man can compass a Despair No Man can compass a Despair As round a Goalless Road No faster than a Mile at once The Traveller proceed Unconscious of the Width Unconscious that the Sun Be setting on His progress So accurate the One At estimating Pain Whose own has just begun His ignorance the Angel That pilot Him along...
26. 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 […]...
27. 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 […]...
28. A Pinch of Salt When a dream is born in you With a sudden clamorous pain, When you know the dream is true And lovely, with no flaw nor stain, O then, be careful, or with sudden clutch You’ll hurt the delicate thing you prize so much. Dreams are like a bird that mocks, Flirting the feathers of his […]...
29. Poetry it Takes A lot of Desperation Dissatisfaction And Disillusion To Write A Few Good Poems. It’s not For Everybody Either to Write It Or even to Read It....
30. So proud she was to die So proud she was to die It made us all ashamed That what we cherished, so unknown To her desire seemed So satisfied to go Where none of us should be Immediately that Anguish stooped Almost to Jealousy...
31. Cacoethes Scribendi If all the trees in all the woods were men; And each and every blade of grass a pen; If every leaf on every shrub and tree Turned to a sheet of foolscap; every sea Were changed to ink, and all earth’s living tribes Had nothing else to do but act as scribes, And for […]...
32. These are the Signs to Nature's Inns These are the Signs to Nature’s Inns Her invitation broad To Whosoever famishing To taste her mystic Bread These are the rites of Nature’s House The Hospitality That opens with an equal width To Beggar and to Bee For Sureties of her staunch Estate Her undecaying Cheer The Purple in the East is set And […]...
33. Toads Why should I let the toad work Squat on my life? Can’t I use my wit as a pitchfork And drive the brute off? Six days of the week it soils With its sickening poison – Just for paying a few bills! That’s out of proportion. Lots of folk live on their wits: Lecturers, lispers, […]...
34. City That Does Not Sleep In the sky there is nobody asleep. Nobody, nobody. Nobody is asleep. The creatures of the moon sniff and prowl about their cabins. The living iguanas will come and bite the men who do not dream, And the man who rushes out with his spirit broken will meet on the street corner The unbelievable alligator […]...
35. Here I Am drunk again at 3 a. m. at the end of my 2nd bottle Of wine, I have typed from a dozen to 15 pages of Poesy An old man Maddened for the flesh of young girls in this Dwindling twilight Liver gone Kidneys going Pancrea pooped Top-floor blood pressure While all the fear of the […]...
36. THE SINGING SCHOOL The Poetry School, The Poetry Book Society, The Poetry Business: So much poetry about you’d think I’d want to shout, “Hurray, hurray, Every day’s Poetry Day!” but I don’t and you don’t either- You know its flim-flam on the ether, grants for Jack-the-lads Of both sexes, poets who’ve never been seen in a little magazine […]...
37. The Importance Of Elsewhere Lonely in Ireland, since it was not home, Strangeness made sense. The salt rebuff of speech, Insisting so on difference, made me welcome: Once that was recognised, we were in touch Their draughty streets, end-on to hills, the faint Archaic smell of dockland, like a stable, The herring-hawker’s cry, dwindling, went To prove me separate, […]...
38. The Trap She was taught desire in the street, Not at the angels’ feet. By the good no word was said Of the worth of the bridal bed. The secret was learned from the vile, Not from her mother’s smile. Home spoke not. And the girl Was caught in the public whirl. Do you say “She gave […]...
39. If this is "fading&quot If this is “fading” Oh let me immediately “fade”! If this is “dying” Bury me, in such a shroud of red! If this is “sleep,” On such a night How proud to shut the eye! Good Evening, gentle Fellow men! Peacock presumes to die!...
40. On this long storm the Rainbow rose On this long storm the Rainbow rose On this late Morn the Sun The clouds like listless Elephants Horizons straggled down The Birds rose smiling, in their nests The gales indeed were done Alas, how heedless were the eyes On whom the summer shone! The quiet nonchalance of death No Daybreak can bestir The slow […]...