English poetry

Poems in English

The Disputants

Upon the table in their bowl In violent disarray Of yellow sprays, green spikes Of leaves, red pointed petals And […]

The Thing

Each time it rings I think it is for Me but it is Not for me nor for Anyone it […]

April Is The Saddest Month

There they were Stuck Dog and bitch Halving the compass Then when with his yip They parted Oh how frolicsome […]

Winter Trees

All the complicated details Of the attiring and The disattiring are completed! A liquid moon Moves gently among The long […]

Après le Bain

I gotta Buy me a new Girdle. (I’ll buy You one) O. K. (I wish You’d wig- Gle that way […]

Youth And Beauty

I bought a dishmop – Having no daughter – For they had twisted Fine ribbons of shining copper About white […]

Complaint

They call me and I go. It is a frozen road Past midnight, a dust Of snow caught In the […]

To Waken An Old Lady

Old age is A flight of small Cheeping birds Skimming Bare trees Above a snow glaze. Gaining and failing They […]

A Goodnight

Go to sleep-though of course you will not – To tideless waves thundering slantwise against Strong embankments, rattle and swish […]

To A Poor Old Woman

munching a plum on The street a paper bag Of them in her hand They taste good to her They […]

Aux Imagistes

I think I have never been so exalted As I am now by you, O frost bitten blossoms, That are […]

The Cold Night

It is cold. The white moon Is up among her scattered stars— Like the bare thighs of The Police Sergeant’s […]

Heel & Toe To The End

Gagarin says, in ecstasy, He could have Gone on forever He floated At and sang And when he emerged from […]

This Is Just To Say

I have eaten The plums That were in The icebox And which You were probably Saving For breakfast Forgive me […]

A Sort Of A Song

Let the snake wait under His weed And the writing Be of words, slow and quick, sharp To strike, quiet […]

Portrait Of A Lady

Your thighs are appletrees Whose blossoms touch the sky. Which sky? The sky Where Watteau hung a lady’s Slipper. Your […]

Pastoral

The little sparrows Hop ingenuously About the pavement Quarreling With sharp voices Over those things That interest them. But we […]

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