The house where I was born (09)

Related poetry:

1. The house where I was born (04) Another time. It was still night. Water slid Silently on the black ground, And I knew that my only task would be To remember, and I laughed, I bent down, I took from the mud A pile of branches and leaves, I lifted up the whole dripping mass In arms I held close to my […]...
2. The house where I was born (01) I woke up, it was the house where I was born, Sea foam splashed against the rock, Not a single bird, only the wind to open and close the wave, Everywhere on the horizon the smell of ashes, As if the hills were hiding a fire That somewhere else was burning up a universe. I […]...
3. The house where I was born (07) I remember, it was a morning, in summer, The window was half-open, I drew near, I could see my father at the end of the garden. He was motionless, looking for something, I could not tell what, or where, beyond the world, His body was already bent over, but his gaze Was lifted toward the […]...
4. The house where I was born (05) In the same dream I am lying in the hollow of a boat, My forehead and eyes against the curved planks Where I can hear the undercurrents Striking the bottom of the boat. All at once, the prow rises up, And I think that we’ve come to the estuary, But I keep my eyes against […]...
5. The house where I was born (02) I woke up, it was the house where I was born. It was raining softly in all the rooms, I went from one to another, looking at The water that shone on the mirrors Piled up everywhere, some broken or even Pushed between the furniture and the walls. It was from these reflections that sometimes […]...
6. The house where I was born (06) I woke up, but I was travelling, The train had rolled throughout the night, It was now going toward huge clouds That were standing, packed together, down there, Dawn rent from time to time by forks of lightning. I watched the advent of the world In the bushes of the embankment; and all at once […]...
7. The house where I was born (03) I woke up, it was the house where I was born, It was night, trees were crowding On all sides around our door, I was alone on the doorstep in the cold wind, No, not alone, for two huge beings Were speaking to each other above me, through me. One, behind, an old woman, stooped, […]...
8. The house where I was born (10) And then life; and once again A house where I was born. Around us The granary above what once had been a church, The gentle play of shadow from the dawn clouds, And in us that smell of the dry straw That had seemed to be waiting for us From the moment the last sack, […]...
9. The house where I was born (08) I open my eyes, yes, it’s the house where I was born, Exactly as it was and nothing more. The same small dining room whose window Gives onto a peach tree that never grows. A man and a woman are seated At this window, facing one another, They are talking, for once. And the child […]...
10. The House of Prayer (Mark, xi.17) Thy mansion is the Christian’s heart, O Lord, Thy dwelling place secure! Bid the unruly throng depart, And leave the consecrated door. Devoted as it is to Thee, A thievish swarm frequents the place, They steal away my hopes from me, And rob my Saviour of His praise. There, too, a sharp designing […]...
11. The Too-Late Born We too, we too, descending once again The hills of our own land, we too have heard Far off – Ah, que ce cor a longue haleine – The horn of Roland in the passages of Spain, The first, the second blast, the failing third, And with the third turned back and climbed once more […]...
12. The Moon, how definite its orb! (fragment) The Moon, how definite its orb! Yet gaze again, and with a steady gaze ‘Tis there indeed, but where is it not? It is suffused o’er all the sapphire Heaven, Trees, herbage, snake-like stream, unwrinkled Lake, Whose very murmur does of it partake And low and close the broad smooth mountain Is more a thing […]...
13. He, who was born He, who was born in stagnant year Does not remember own way. We, kids of Russia’s years of fear, Remember every night and day. Years that burned everything to ashes! Do you bring madness or grace? The war’s and freedom’s fire flashes Left bloody light on every face. We are struck dumb: the toxsin’s pressure […]...
14. In A Vacant House Someone was calling someone; Now they’ve stopped. Beyond the glass The rose vines quiver as in A light wind, but there is none: I hear nothing. The moments pass, Or seem to pass, and the sun, Risen above the old birch, Steadies for the downward arch. It is noon. Privacy is One thing, but to […]...
15. Sonnet VIII: Love, Born In Greece Love, born in Greece, of late fled from his native place, Forc’d by a tedious proof, that Turkish harden’d heart Is no fit mark to pierce with his fine pointed dart, And pleas’d with our soft peace, stayed here his flying race. But finding these north climes do coldly him embrace, Not used to frozen […]...
16. Variation On A Theme By Rilke A certain day became a presence to me; There it was, confronting me a sky, air, light: A being. And before it started to descend From the height of noon, it leaned over And struck my shoulder as if with The flat of a sword, granting me Honor and a task. The day’s blow Rang […]...
17. The House Of Dust: Part 02: 02: The Fulfilled Dream More towers must yet be built-more towers destroyed- Great rocks hoisted in air; And he must seek his bread in high pale sunlight With gulls about him, and clouds just over his eyes. . . And so he did not mention his dream of falling But drank his coffee in silence, and heard in his […]...
18. 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 […]...
19. 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 […]...
20. 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 […]...
21. To the Moon Oh gracious moon, now as the year turns, I remember how, heavy with sorrow, I climbed this hill to gaze on you, And then as now you hung above those trees Illuminating all. But to my eyes Your face seemed clouded, temulous From the tears that rose beneath my lids, So painful was my life: […]...
22. Exiles Her brown falcon perches above the sink As steaming water forks over my hands. Below the wrists they shrivel and turn pink. I am in exile in my own land. Her half-grown cats scuffle across the floor Trailing a slime of blood from where they fed. I lock the door. They claw under the door. […]...
23. The Deserted House Life and Thought have gone away Side by side, Leaving door and windows wide. Careless tenants they! All within is dark as night: In the windows is no light; And no murmur at the door, So frequent on its hinge before. Close the door; the shutters close; Or through the windows we shall see The […]...
24. The House Of Dust: Part 03: 10: Letter From time to time, lifting his eyes, he sees The soft blue starlight through the one small window, The moon above black trees, and clouds, and Venus,- And turns to write. . . The clock, behind ticks softly. It is so long, indeed, since I have written,- Two years, almost, your last is turning yellow,- […]...
25. The House Of Dust: Part 03: 06: Portrait Of One Dead This is the house. On one side there is darkness, On one side there is light. Into the darkness you may lift your lanterns- O, any number-it will still be night. And here are echoing stairs to lead you downward To long sonorous halls. And here is spring forever at these windows, With roses on […]...
26. Distant Time I know not from what distant time Thou art ever coming nearer to meet me. Thy sun and stars can never keep thee hidden from me for aye. In many a morning and eve thy footsteps have been heard And thy messenger has come within my heart and called me in secret. I know not […]...
27. Sonnet XXI: Why Do I Live Why do I live to loath the cheerful day, To shun the smiles of Fame, and mark the hours On tardy pinions move, while ceaseless show’rs Down my wan cheek in lucid currents stray? My tresses all abound, nor gems display, Nor scents Arabian! on my path no flow’rs Imbibe the morn’s resuscitating pow’rs, For […]...
28. The House Of Dust: Part 02: 08: The Box With Silver Handles Well,-it was two days after my husband died- Two days! And the earth still raw above him. And I was sweeping the carpet in their hall. In number four-the room with the red wall-paper- Some chorus girls and men were singing that song ‘They’ll soon be lighting candles Round a box with silver handles’-and hearing […]...
29. A Baby In The House I knew that a baby was hid in that house, Though I saw no cradle and heard no cry; But the husband was tip-toeing ’round like a mouse, And the good wife was humming a soft lullaby; And there was a look on the face of the mother, That I knew could mean only one […]...
30. The House Of Dust: Part 01: 02: One, from his high bright window in a tower One, from his high bright window in a tower, Leans out, as evening falls, And sees the advancing curtain of the shower Splashing its silver on roofs and walls: Sees how, swift as a shadow, it crosses the city, And murmurs beyond far walls to the sea, Leaving a glimmer of water in the dark […]...
31. I watched the Moon around the House I watched the Moon around the House Until upon a Pane She stopped a Traveller’s privilege for Rest And there upon I gazed as at a stranger The Lady in the Town Doth think no incivility To lift her Glass upon But never Stranger justified The Curiosity Like Mine for not a Foot nor Hand […]...
32. Far Out Beyond the dark cartoons Are darker spaces where Small cloudy nests of stars Seem to float on air. These have no proper names: Men out alone at night Never look up at them For guidance or delight, For such evasive dust Can make so little clear: Much less is known than not, More far than […]...
33. The House Of Dust: Part 01: 05: The snow floats down upon us, mingled with rain The snow floats down upon us, mingled with rain. . . It eddies around pale lilac lamps, and falls Down golden-windowed walls. We were all born of flesh, in a flare of pain, We do not remember the red roots whence we rose, But we know that we rose and walked, that after a while […]...
34. To Those Born After To the cities I came in a time of disorder That was ruled by hunger. I sheltered with the people in a time of uproar And then I joined in their rebellion. That’s how I passed my time that was given to me on this Earth. I ate my dinners between the battles, I lay […]...
35. Never Born THE TIME has gone by. The child is dead. The child was never even born. Why go on? Why so much as begin? How can we turn the clock back now And not laugh at each other As ashes laugh at ashes?...
36. An Arab Shepherd Is Searching For His Goat On Mount Zion An Arab shepherd is searching for his goat on Mount Zion And on the opposite hill I am searching for my little boy. An Arab shepherd and a Jewish father Both in their temporary failure. Our two voices met above The Sultan’s Pool in the valley between us. Neither of us wants the boy or […]...
37. Hauntings In the grey tumult of these after years Oft silence falls; the incessant wranglers part; And less-than-echoes of remembered tears Hush all the loud confusion of the heart; And a shade, through the toss’d ranks of mirth and crying Hungers, and pains, and each dull passionate mood, Quite lost, and all but all forgot, undying, […]...
38. The Man Born to Farming The Grower of Trees, the gardener, the man born to farming, Whose hands reach into the ground and sprout To him the soil is a divine drug. He enters into death Yearly, and comes back rejoicing. He has seen the light lie down In the dung heap, and rise again in the corn. His thought […]...
39. Born Brothers Equality is absolute or no. Nothing between can stand. We are the sons Of the same sire, or madness breaks and runs Through the rude world. Ridiculous our woe If single pity does not love it. So Our separate fathers love us. No man shuns His poorest child’s embrace. We are the sons Of such, […]...
40. The Native-Born We’ve drunk to the Queen God bless her! We’ve drunk to our mothers’ land; We’ve drunk to our English brother, (But he does not understand); We’ve drunk to the wide creation, And the Cross swings low for the mom, Last toast, and of Obligation, A health to the Native-born! They change their skies above them, […]...