Where We Differ

Related poetry:

1. A Sad State Of Freedom You waste the attention of your eyes, The glittering labour of your hands, And knead the dough enough for dozens of loaves Of which you’ll taste not a morsel; You are free to slave for others You are free to make the rich richer. The moment you’re born They plant around you Mills that grind […]...
2. Freedom What freeman knoweth freedom? Never he Whose father’s father through long lives have reigned O’er kingdoms which mere heritage attained. Though from his youth to age he roam as free As winds, he dreams not freedom’s ecstacy. But he whose birth was in a nation chained For centuries; where every breath was drained From breasts […]...
3. Mask Fling your red scarf faster and faster, dancer. It is summer and the sun loves a million green leaves, masses of green. Your red scarf flashes across them calling and a-calling. The silk and flare of it is a great soprano leading a chorus Carried along in a rouse of voices reaching for the heart […]...
4. Charlene-n-Booker 4ever And the old men, supervising grown grandsons, nephews, Any man a boy given this chance of making A new sidewalk outside the apartment building where Some of them live, three old men and their wives, The aging unmarrying children, and the child Who is a cousin, whose mother has sent her here Because she doesn’t […]...
5. Waking at 3 a. m Even in the cave of the night when you Wake and are free and lonely, Neglected by others, discarded, loved only By what doesn’t matter even in that Big room no one can see, You push with your eyes till forever Comes in its twisted figure eight And lies down in your head. You think […]...
6. Ode GOD save the Rights of Man! Give us a heart to scan Blessings so dear: Let them be spread around Wherever man is found, And with the welcome sound Ravish his ear. Let us with France agree, And bid the world be free, While tyrants fall! Let the rude savage host Of their vast numbers […]...
7. The Unbeliever He sleeps on the top of a mast. – Bunyan He sleeps on the top of a mast With his eyes fast closed. The sails fall away below him Like the sheets of his bed, Leaving out in the air of the night the sleeper’s head. Asleep he was transported there, Asleep he curled In […]...
8. Freedom XIV And an orator said, “Speak to us of Freedom.” And he answered: At the city gate and by your fireside I have seen you prostrate yourself and worship your own freedom, Even as slaves humble themselves before a tyrant and praise him though he slays them. Ay, in the grove of the temple and in […]...
9. The Longing Freedom. How her spirit Haunts, Hooks, Entices us all! Freedom, Will the time come For my ideas to roam Across this vast land’s deserts, Through the caverns of the Empty Quarter? For my voice to be sent forth, Crying out in the stillness of a quiet people, A voice among the voiceless? For my thoughts, […]...
10. The peace of wild things When despair grows in me And I wake in the middle of the night at the least sound In fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be, I go and lie down where the wood drake Rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds. I come into the […]...
11. It's thoughts and just One Heart It’s thoughts and just One Heart And Old Sunshine about Make frugal Ones Content And two or three for Company Upon a Holiday Crowded as Sacrament Books when the Unit Spare the Tenant long eno’ A Picture if it Care Itself a Gallery too rare For needing more Flowers to keep the Eyes from going […]...
12. John Cabanis Neither spite, fellow citizens, Nor forgetfulness of the shiftlessness, And the lawlessness and waste Under democracy’s rule in Spoon River Made me desert the party of law and order And lead the liberal party. Fellow citizens! I saw as one with second sight That every man of the millions of men Who give themselves to […]...
13. Sonnet XLVIII: Cupid, I Hate Thee Cupid, I hate thee, which I’d have thee know; A naked starveling ever may’st thou be. Poor rogue, go pawn thy fascia and thy bow For some few rags wherewith to cover thee. Or, if thou’lt not, thy archery forbear, To some base rustic do thyself prefer, And when corn’s sown or grown into the […]...
14. I stood upon a highway I stood upon a highway, And, behold, there came Many strange peddlers. To me each one made gestures, Holding forth little images, saying, “This is my pattern of God. Now this is the God I prefer.” But I said, “Hence! Leave me with mine own, And take you yours away; I can’t buy of your […]...
15. Snowbanks North of the House Those great sweeps of snow that stop suddenly six Feet from the house… Thoughts that go so far. The boy gets out of high school and reads no more Books; The son stops calling home. The mother puts down her rolling pin and makes no More bread. And the wife looks at her husband one […]...
16. All That's Past Very old are the woods; And the buds that break Out of the brier’s boughs, When March winds wake, So old with their beauty are Oh, no man knows Through what wild centuries Roves back the rose. Very old are the brooks; And the rills that rise Where snow sleeps cold beneath The azure skies […]...
17. The Voices The rich and fortunate do well to keep silent, For no one cares to know who and what they are. But those in need must reveal themselves, Must say: I am blind, Or: I’m on the verge of going blind, Or: nothing goes well with me on earth, Or: I have a sickly child, Or: […]...
18. A Martian Sends A Postcard Home Caxtons are mechanical birds with many wings And some are treasured for their markings They cause the eyes to melt Or the body to shriek without pain. I have never seen one fly, but Sometimes they perch on the hand. Mist is when the sky is tired of flight And rests its soft machine on […]...
19. Gentleness Stirred Striding through the gates of learning, Wrapped warmly in her black abaya, Modestly cloaked head to toe, Not a hair astray, nor skin showing, Holding her head up high, Thinking of the future, Arms laden with books, Head in the clouds, Lunch, television, studies, friends, That is how her day will go Near future, far […]...
20. 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 […]...
21. An Ode to Himself Where dost thou careless lie, Buried in ease and sloth? Knowledge that sleeps doth die; And this security, It is the common moth That eats on wits and arts, and oft destroys them both. Are all th’ Aonian springs Dried up? lies Thespia waste? Doth Clarius’ harp want strings, That not a nymph now sings? […]...
22. I Prefer the Gorgeous Freedom I prefer the gorgeous freedom, And I fly to lands of grace, Where in wide and clear meadows All is good, as dreams, and blest. Here they rice: the clover clear, And corn-flower’s gentle lace, And the rustle is always here: “Ears are leaning… Take your ways!” In this immense sea of fair, Only one […]...
23. Not What Was Meant When the Academy of Arts demanded freedom Of artistic expression from narrow-minded bureaucrats There was a howl and a clamour in its immediate vicinity But roaring above everything Came a deafening thunder of applause From beyond the Sector boundary. Freedom! it roared. Freedom for the artists! Freedom all round! Freedom for all! Freedom for the […]...
24. UPON JULIA'S RIBBON As shews the air when with a rain-bow graced, So smiles that ribbon ’bout my Julia’s waist; Or like Nay, ’tis that Zonulet of love, Wherein all pleasures of the world are wove....
25. The Student's Serenade I have slept upon my couch, But my spirit did not rest, For the labours of the day Yet my weary soul opprest; And, before my dreaming eyes Still the learned volumes lay, And I could not close their leaves, And I could not turn away. But I oped my eyes at last, And I […]...
26. A Prisoner in a Dungeon Deep A prisoner in a dungeon deep Sat musing silently; His head was rested on his hand, His elbow on his knee. Turned he his thoughts to future times Or are they backward cast? For freedom is he pining now Or mourning for the past? No, he has lived so long enthralled Alone in dungeon gloom […]...
27. Stand Fast! Stand fast, Great Britain! Together England, Scotland, Ireland stand One in the faith that makes a mighty land, True to the bond you gave and will not break And fearless in the fight for conscience’ sake! Against the Giant Robber clad in steel, With blood of trampled Belgium on his heel, Striding through France to […]...
28. Little Owl Who Lives in the Orchard His beak could open a bottle, And his eyes – when he lifts their soft lids – Go on reading something Just beyond your shoulder – Blake, maybe, Or the Book of Revelation. Never mind that he eats only The black-smocked crickets, And the dragonflies if they happen To be out late over the ponds, […]...
29. An Eastern Ballad I speak of love that comes to mind: The moon is faithful, although blind; She moves in thought she cannot speak. Perfect care has made her bleak. I never dreamed the sea so deep, The earth so dark; so long my sleep, I have become another child. I wake to see the world go wild....
30. Nor We Of Her To Him He said no word of her to us Nor we of her to him, But oh it saddened us to see How wan he grew and thin. We said: she eats him day and night And draws the blood from him, We did not know but said we thought This was why he grew thin. […]...
31. The Nurse Such innocent companionship Is hers, whether she wake or sleep, ‘Tis scarcely strange her face should wear The young child’s grave and innocent air. All the night long she hath by her The quiet breathing, the soft stir, Nor knows how in that tender place The children’s angels veil the face. She wakes at dawn […]...
32. A Song of the White Men 1899 Now, this is the cup the White Men drink When they go to right a wrong, And that is the cup of the old world’s hate Cruel and strained and strong. We have drunk that cup and a bitter, bitter cup And tossed the dregs away. But well for the world when the White […]...
33. Cat's Dream How neatly a cat sleeps, Sleeps with its paws and its posture, Sleeps with its wicked claws, And with its unfeeling blood, Sleeps with ALL the rings a series Of burnt circles which have formed The odd geology of its sand-colored tail. I should like to sleep like a cat, With all the fur of […]...
34. Reconciliation Some may have blamed you that you took away The verses that could move them on the day When, the ears being deafened, the sight of the eyes blind With lightning, you went from me, and I could find Nothing to make a song about but kings, Helmets, and swords, and half-forgotten things That were […]...
35. Something Childish, But Very Natural If I had but two little wings And were a little feathery bird, To you I’d fly, my dear! But thoughts like these are idle things, And I stay here. But in my sleep to you I fly: I’m always with you in my sleep! The world is all one’s own. But then one wakes, […]...
36. Lucky One sweet pound of filet mignon Sizzles on the roadside. Let’s say a hundred yards below The buzzard. The buzzard Sees no cars or other buzzards Between the mountain range due north And the horizon to the south And across the desert west and east No other creature’s nose leads him to this feast. The […]...
37. 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! […]...
38. Freedoms Plow When a man starts out with nothing, When a man starts out with his hands Empty, but clean, When a man starts to build a world, He starts first with himself And the faith that is in his heart- The strength there, The will there to build. First in the heart is the dream- Then […]...
39. To A Husband This is to the crown and blessing of my life, The much loved husband of a happy wife; To him whose constant passion found the art To win a stubborn and ungrateful heart, And to the world by tenderest proof discovers They err, who say that husbands can’t be lovers. With such return of passion, […]...
40. Portrait (For S. A.)TO write one book in five years Or five books in one year, To be the painter and the thing painted, … where are we, bo? Wait-get his number. The barber shop handling is here And the tweeds, the cheviot, the Scotch Mist, And the flame orange scarf. Yet there is more-he sleeps […]...