Morning Poem #48

Related poetry:

1. 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...
2. 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 […]...
3. 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 […]...
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 #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...
6. Morning Poem #43 I close my eyes And there it is A concrete walkway Leading out of a Small village Hugging the sides Of a green green Tree filled mountainside And to the right A pipe railing Paited the color Of oxidized metaland even firther To my right A small beach Costline-an ocean All under a pale blue […]...
7. 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...
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. Broken Dreams There is grey in your hair. Young men no longer suddenly catch their breath When you are passing; But maybe some old gaffer mutters a blessing Because it was your prayer Recovered him upon the bed of death. For your sole sake – that all heart’s ache have known, And given to others all heart’s […]...
10. He is alive, this morning He is alive, this morning He is alive and awake Birds are resuming for Him Blossoms dress for His Sake. Bees to their Loaves of Honey Add an Amber Crumb Him to regale Me Only Motion, and am dumb....
11. 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 […]...
12. 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 […]...
13. Early In The Morning I Hear On Your Piano EARLY in the morning I hear on your piano You (at least, I guess it’s you) proceed to learn to play. Mostly little minds should take and tackle their piano While the birds are singing in the morning of the day....
14. 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 […]...
15. 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) […]...
16. The Morning Walk When Anne and I go out a walk, We hold each other’s hand and talk Of all the things we mean to do When Anne and I are forty-two. And when we’ve thought about a thing, Like bowling hoops or bicycling, Or falling down on Anne’s balloon, We do it in the afternoon....
17. Night Poem There is nothing to be afraid of, It is only the wind Changing to the east, it is only Your father the thunder Your mother the rain In this country of water With its beige moon damp as a mushroom, Its drowned stumps and long birds That swim, where the moss grows On all sides […]...
18. 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 […]...
19. Poem 5 WAke now my loue, awake; for it is time, The Rosy Morne long since left Tithones bed, All ready to her siluer coche to clyme, And Phoebus gins to shew his glorious hed. Hark how the cheerefull birds do chaunt theyr laies And carroll of loues praise. The merry Larke hir mattins sings aloft, The […]...
20. The Morning after Woe The Morning after Woe ‘Tis frequently the Way Surpasses all that rose before For utter Jubilee As Nature did not care And piled her Blossoms on And further to parade a Joy Her Victim stared upon The Birds declaim their Tunes Pronouncing every word Like Hammers Did they know they fell Like Litanies of Lead […]...
21. Small Poem About The Hounds And The Hares After the kill, there is the feast. And toward the end, when the dancing subsides And the young have sneaked off somewhere, The hounds, drunk on the blood of the hares, Begin to talk of how soft Were their pelts, how graceful their leaps, How lovely their scared, gentle eyes....
22. Morning-Land Old English songs, you bring to me A simple sweetness somewhat kin To birds that through the mystery Of earliest morn make tuneful din, While hamlet steeples sleepily At cock-crow chime out three and four, Till maids get up betime and go With faces like the red sun low Clattering about the dairy floor....
23. 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!...
24. Poem 20 BVt let stil Silence trew night watches keepe, That sacred peace may in assurance rayne, And tymely sleep, when it is tyme to sleepe, May poure his limbs forth on your pleasant playne, The whiles an hundred little winged loues, Like diuers fethered doues, Shall fly and flutter round about your bed, And in the […]...
25. 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 […]...
26. 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 […]...
27. FRIST POEM A rainbow comes pouring into my window, I am electrified. Songs burst from my breast, all my crying stops, mistory fills the air. I look for my shues under my bed. A fat colored woman becomes my mother. I have no false teeth yet. Suddenly ten children sit on my lap. I grow a beard […]...
28. Daylight is Dying The daylight is dying Away in the west, The wild birds are flying In silence to rest; In leafage and frondage Where shadows are deep, They pass to its bondage The kingdom of sleep And watched in their sleeping By stars in the height, They rest in your keeping, O wonderful night. When night doth […]...
29. Moving On In this war we’re always moving, Moving on; When we make a friend another friend has gone; Should a woman’s kindly face Make us welcome for a space, Then it’s boot and saddle, boys, we’re Moving on. In the hospitals they’re moving, Moving on; They’re here today, tomorrow they are gone; When the bravest and […]...
30. Temporary Poem Of My Time Hebrew writing and Arabic writing go from east to west, Latin writing, from west to east. Languages are like cats: You must not stroke their hair the wrong way. The clouds come from the sea, the hot wind from the desert, The trees bend in the wind, And stones fly from all four winds, Into […]...
31. The Daylight is Dying The daylight is dying Away in the west, The wild birds are flying In silence to rest; In leafage and frondage Where shadows are deep, They pass to its bondage – The kingdom of sleep. And watched in their sleeping By stars in the height, They rest in your keeping, Oh, wonderful night. When night […]...
32. Poem Of Night 1 I move my hand over Slopes, falls, lumps of sight, Lashes barely able to be touched, Lips that give way so easily It’s a shock to feel underneath them The bones smile. Muffled a little, barely cloaked, Zygoma, maxillary, turbinate. 2 I put my hand On the side of your face, You lean your […]...
33. The Morning Star IN the black pool of the midnight Lu has slung the morning star, And its foam in rippling silver whitens into day afar Falling on the mountain rampart piled with pearl above our glen, Only you and I, beloved, moving in the fields of men. In the dark tarn of my spirit, love, the morning […]...
34. Epithalamium: A Marriage Poem ‘Twas summer, when softly the breezes were blowing, And Hudson majestic so sweetly was flowing, The groves rang with music & accents of pleasure And nature in rapture beat time to the measure, When Helen and Jonas, so true and so loving, Along the green lawn were seen arm in arm moving, Sweet daffodils, violets […]...
35. 213. Song-Up in the Morning Early CAULD blaws the wind frae east to west, The drift is driving sairly; Sae loud and shill’s I hear the blast- I’m sure it’s winter fairly. Chorus.-Up in the morning’s no for me, Up in the morning early; When a’ the hills are covered wi’ snaw, I’m sure it’s winter fairly. The birds sit chittering […]...
36. The Mother Poem (two) I always wanted to give birth Do that incredible natural thing That women do-I nearly broke down When I heard we couldn’t And then my man said to me Well there’s always adoption (we didn’t have test tubes and the rest Then) and well even in the early sixties there was something Scandalous about adopting […]...
37. Easter Morning a stone at dawn Cold water in the basin These walls’ rough plaster Imageless After the hammering Of so much insistence On the need for naming After the travesties That passed as faces, Grace: the unction Of sheer nonexistence Upwelling in this Hyacinthine freshet Of the unnamed The faceless...
38. Notice What This Poem Is Not Doing The light along the hills in the morning Comes down slowly, naming the trees White, then coasting the ground for stones to nominate. Notice what this poem is not doing. A house, a house, a barn, the old Quarry, where the river shrugs How much of this place is yours? Notice what this poem is […]...
39. Harmonizing a Poem, (beside Palace Attendant Guo.) High beyond the thick wall a tower shines with sunset Where peach and plum are blooming and the willowcotton flies. You have heard in your office the court-bell of twilight; Birds find perches, officials head for home. Your morning-jade will tinkle as you thread the golden palace; You will bring the word of Heaven from […]...
40. Love Poem My clumsiest dear, whose hands shipwreck vases, At whose quick touch all glasses chip and ring, Whose palms are bulls in china, burs in linen, And have no cunning with any soft thing Except all ill-at-ease fidgeting people: The refugee uncertain at the door You make at home; deftly you steady The drunk clambering on […]...