Morning Poem #43

Related poetry:

1. Morning Poem #40 pink around a Circle of pink Around a shimmer Of found reason Pink around a Glimmering white Shaked around A sound blue Somehow in the Touch of green Looped inside Loops abound A bound ribbon A hope bow bows In a rare season...
2. Poem Written At Morning A sunny day’s complete Poussiniana Divide it from itself. It is this or that And it is not. By metaphor you paint A thing. Thus, the pineapple was a leather fruit, A fruit for pewter, thorned and palmed and blue, To be served by men of ice. The senses paint By metaphor. The juice was […]...
3. Poem (In the morning, when it was raining) In the morning, when it was raining, Then the birds were hectic and loudy; Through all the reign is fall’s entertaining; Their singing was erratic and full of disorder: They did not remember the summer blue Or the orange of June. They did not think at all Of the great red and bursting ball Of […]...
4. Morning Poem #39 if she took off her top Would that embarrass you Would you smile and laugh newvously Would there be Room on the roof For the orgy If the music was a little louder Would you remember The color of her eyes...
5. Morning Poem #48 cold bed Gray day Memories Of “birds of prey” Talk for the sake Of words shaping Mouth moving Thoughts changing Energy moving Outside of self Talk for the sake Of a warm bed A sanny day And memories Of birds at play...
6. Morning Poem #6 groggy voice Hangover head Phone rongs Work call Money writing Muddled thoughts Adrenaline rush Hands clutch Power book Pauses comerapid doubts Make calls Take notes Ming push Fear waits...
7. Morning Poem #1 floating gray web pages Step into a crowded vacuum Clouds sweating There’s a gauzy scrim In front of my eyes Between me and The rest of the world Afternoon birds...
8. 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...
9. Morning Song Of Senlin from Senlin: A Biography It is morning, Senlin says, and in the morning When the light drips through the shutters like the dew, I arise, I face the sunrise, And do the things my fathers learned to do. Stars in the purple dusk above the rooftops Pale in a saffron mist and seem to die, […]...
10. Morning Poem Every morning The world Is created. Under the orange Sticks of the sun The heaped Ashes of the night Turn into leaves again And fasten themselves to the high branches – And the ponds appear Like black cloth On which are painted islands Of summer lilies. If it is your nature To be happy You […]...
11. Poem (Old man in the crystal morning after snow) Old man in the crystal morning after snow, Your throat swathed in a muffler, your bent Figure building the snow man which is meant For the grandchild’s target, do you know This fat cartoon, his eyes pocked in with coal Nears you each time your breath smokes the air, Lewdly grinning out of a private […]...
12. Colors Passing Through Us Purple as tulips in May, mauve Into lush velvet, purple As the stain blackberries leave On the lips, on the hands, The purple of ripe grapes Sunlit and warm as flesh. Every day I will give you a color, Like a new flower in a bud vase On your desk. Every day I will paint […]...
13. Last Poem of my 45th Year I thought of how a whale’s white ribs Could choke the sky’s blue neck, Massive vertebrae half-buried in sand, And how a keel cleaves the sea While the wind zephyrs canvas to swell And propel the long black ship toward shore, Heaven in a blue mussel shell, smooth As the firmament. I believe there is […]...
14. The Morning Half-Life Blues Girls buck the wind in the grooves toward work In fuzzy coats promised to be warm as fur. The shop windows snicker Flashing them hurrying over dresses they cannot afford: You are not pretty enough, not pretty enough. Blown with yesterday’s papers through the boiled coffee morning We dream of the stop on the subway […]...
15. Little Summer Poem Touching The Subject Of Faith Every summer I listen and look Under the sun’s brass and even Into the moonlight, but I can’t hear Anything, I can’t see anything Not the pale roots digging down, nor the green stalks muscling up, Nor the leaves Deepening their damp pleats, Nor the tassels making, Nor the shucks, nor the cobs. And still, […]...
16. Song On May Morning Now the bright morning Star, Dayes harbinger, Comes dancing from the East, and leads with her The Flowry May, who from her green lap throws The yellow Cowslip, and the pale Primrose. Hail bounteous May that dost inspire Mirth and youth, and warm desire, Woods and Groves, are of thy dressing, Hill and Dale, doth […]...
17. May Morning Deep into spring, winter is hanging on. Bitter and skillful in his Hopelessness, he stays alive in every shady place, starving along the Mediterranean: angry to see the glittering sea-pale boulder alive With lizards green as Judas leaves. Winter is hanging on. He still Believes. He tries to catch a lizard by the shoulder. One […]...
18. Morning-Glory In this meadow starred with spring Shepherds kneel before their king. Mary throned, with dreaming eyes, Gowned in blue like rain-washed skies, Lifts her tiny son that he May behold their courtesy. And green-smocked children, awed and good, Bring him blossoms from the wood. Clear the sunlit steeples chime Mary’s coronation-time. Loud the happy children […]...
19. Sonnet 33: Full many a glorious morning have I seen Full many a glorious morning have I seen Flatter the mountaintops with sovereign eye, Kissing with golden face the meadows green, Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy; Anon permit the basest clouds to ride With ugly rack on his celestial face, And from the forlorn world his visage hide, Stealing unseen to west with this […]...
20. Afternoon Poem a lion at the door Swallowed the day Broken with spite At the inevitable chorus of pop songs Sutured for soft light I burdened siesta With a thousand little earthquakes I listened where you suffered vertigo Flowers have faded Bellies betray Caught the wistful eye That curved beneath my eyelids Something slime And panic strewn […]...
21. Sonnets XXXIII: Full many a glorious morning have I seen Full many a glorious morning have I seen Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye, Kissing with golden face the meadows green, Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy; Anon permit the basest clouds to ride With ugly rack on his celestial face And from the forlorn world his visage hide, Stealing unseen to west with this […]...
22. Cold Poem Cold now. Close to the edge. Almost Unbearable. Clouds Bunch up and boil down From the north of the white bear. This tree-splitting morning I dream of his fat tracks, The lifesaving suet. I think of summer with its luminous fruit, Blossoms rounding to berries, leaves, Handfuls of grain. Maybe what cold is, is the […]...
23. Poem For Maya Dipping our bread in oil tins We talked of morning peeling Open our rooms to a moment Of almonds, olives and wind When we did not yet know what we were. The days in Mallorca were alike: Footprints down goat-paths From the beds we had left, At night the stars locked to darkness. At that […]...
24. Snail Poem Make my grave shape of heart so like a flower be free aired & handsome felt, Grave root pillow, tung up from grave & wigle at blown up clowd. Ear turnes close to underlayer of green felt moss & sound of rain dribble thru this layer down to the roots that will tickle my ear. […]...
25. 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 […]...
26. 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 […]...
27. The Eye The Atlantic is a stormy moat; and the Mediterranean, The blue pool in the old garden, More than five thousand years has drunk sacrifice Of ships and blood, and shines in the sun; but here the Pacific Our ships, planes, wars are perfectly irrelevant. Neither our present blood-feud with the brave dwarfs Nor any future […]...
28. Poem 12 OPen the temple gates vnto my loue, Open them wide that she may enter in, And all the postes adorne as doth behoue, And all the pillours deck with girlands trim, For to recyue this Saynt with honour dew, That commeth in to you, With trembling steps and humble reuerence, She commeth in, before th’almighties […]...
29. Morning in the Burned House In the burned house I am eating breakfast. You understand: there is no house, there is no breakfast, Yet here I am. The spoon which was melted scrapes against The bowl which was melted also. No one else is around. Where have they gone to, brother and sister, Mother and father? Off along the shore, […]...
30. Poem In October It was my thirtieth year to heaven Woke to my hearing from harbour and neighbour wood And the mussel pooled and the heron Priested shore The morning beckon With water praying and call of seagull and rook And the knock of sailing boats on the net webbed wall Myself to set foot That second In […]...
31. Hymn on the Morning of Christ's Nativity IT was the Winter wilde, While the Heav’n-born-childe, All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies; Nature in aw to him Had doff’t her gawdy trim, With her great Master so to sympathize: It was no season then for her To wanton with the Sun her lusty Paramour. Only with speeches fair She woo’s the […]...
32. Rain Towards Morning The great light cage has broken up in the air, Freeing, I think, about a million birds Whose wild ascending shadows will not be back, And all the wires come falling down. No cage, no frightening birds; the rain Is brightening now. The face is pale That tried the puzzle of their prison And solved […]...
33. Poem (Faithful to your commands, o consciousness) Poem Faithful to your commands, o consciousness, o Beating wings, I studied The roses and the muses of reality, The deceptions and the deceptive elation of the redness of the growing morning, And all the greened and thomed variety of the vines of error, which begin by promising Everything and more than everything, and then […]...
34. The Blue Scarf Pale, with the blue of high zeniths, shimmered Over with silver, brocaded In smooth, running patterns, a soft stuff, with dark knotted fringes, It lies there, Warm from a woman’s soft shoulders, and my fingers close on it, Caressing. Where is she, the woman who wore it? The scent of her Lingers and drugs me! […]...
35. One Morning Looking for distinctive stones, I found the dead otter Rotting by the tideline, and carried all day the scent of this savage Valediction. That headlong high sound the oystercatcher makes Came echoing through the rocky cove Where a cormorant was feeding and submarining in the bay And a heron rose off a boulder where he’d […]...
36. The Poem It’s all in The sound. A song. Seldom a song. It should Be a song-made of Particulars, wasps, A gentian-something Immediate, open Scissors, a lady’s Eyes-waking Centrifugal, centripetal....
37. Morning Sea Let me stop here. Let me, too, look at nature awhile. The brilliant blue of the morning sea, of the cloudless sky, The yellow shore; all lovely, All bathed in light. Let me stand here. And let me pretend I see all this (I really did see it for a minute when I first stopped) […]...
38. An Almost Made Up Poem I see you drinking at a fountain with tiny Blue hands, no, your hands are not tiny They are small, and the fountain is in France Where you wrote me that last letter and I answered and never heard from you again. You used to write insane poems about ANGELS AND GOD, all in upper […]...
39. Morning O’ER fallow plains and fertile meads, AURORA lifts the torch of day; The shad’wy brow of Night recedes, Cold dew-drops fall from every spray; Now o’er the thistle’s rugged head, Thin veils of filmy vapour fly, On ev’ry violet’s perfum’d bed The sparkling gems of Nature lie. The hill’s tall brow is crown’d with gold, […]...
40. May Morning I lie stretched out upon the window-seat And doze, and read a page or two, and doze, And feel the air like water on me close, Great waves of sunny air that lip and beat With a small noise, monotonous and sweet, Against the window and the scent of cool, Frail flowers by some brown […]...