Poems begining by &

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AARMD year! year of the struggle!
No dainty rhymes or sentimental love verses for you, terrible year!
Not you as some pale poetling, seated at a desk, lisping cadenzas piano;
But as a strong man, erect, clothed in blue clothes, advancing, carrying a rifle on your

1985

© Brooks Haxton

The righteous shall rejoice when he seeth
the vengeance; he shall wash his feet in
the blood of the wicked. Psalm 58

1914 II. Safety

© Rupert Brooke

Dear! of all happy in the hour, most blest

He who has found our hid security,

1979

© Roddy Lumsden

They arrived at the desk of the Hotel Duncan

and Smithed in, twitchy as flea-drummed squirrels.

1994

© Paul Celan

i was leaving my fifty-eighth year
when a thumb of ice
stamped itself hard near my heart

$2.50

© Kenneth Fearing

But that dashing, dauntless, delphic, diehard, diabolic cracker likes his fiction turned with a certain elegance and wit; and that anti-anti-anti-slum-congestion clublady prefers romance;
Search through the mothballs, comb the lavender and lace;
Were her desires and struggles futile or did an innate fineness bring him at last to a prouder, richer peace in a world gone somehow mad?

1914 IV. The Dead

© Rupert Brooke

There are waters blown by changing winds to laughter
And lit by the rich skies, all day. And after,
Frost, with a gesture, stays the waves that dance
And wandering loveliness. He leaves a white
Unbroken glory, a gathered radiance,
A width, a shining peace, under the night.

1941

© Ruth Stone

I wore a large brim hat
like the women in the ads.
How thin I was: such skin.
Yes. It was Indianapolis;
a taste of sin.

1959

© Gregory Corso

Uncomprising yearI see no meaning to life.
Though this abled self is here nonetheless,
either in trade gold or grammaticness,
I drop the wheelwrights simple principle
Why weave the garland? Why ring the bell?

25 Minutes To Go

© Sheldon Allan Silverstein

They're buildin' the gallows outside my cell.

I got 25 minutes to go.

'39'

© Henry Lawson

Then heres the living Forties!
The Forties! The Forties!
Then heres the living Forties!
Were good for ten years more.

1940

© Bertolt Brecht

My young son asks me: Must I learn mathematics?

What is the use, I feel like saying. That two pieces

1919

© Anonymous

Before the threat
And dismal cold gray
of mourning
Came the sun.

78 RPM by Jeff Daniel Marion : American Life in Poetry #265 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006

© Ted Kooser

Tell a whiny child that she sounds like a broken record, and she’s likely to say, “What’s a record?” Jeff Daniel Marion, a Tennessee poet, tells us not only what 78 rpm records were, but what they meant to the people who played them, and to those who remember the people who played them.

78 RPM

16. Of Gluttony and Feasting

He shows a fool in every wise
Who day and night forever hies
From feast to feat to fill his paunch

136 Syllables At Rocky Mountain Dharma Center

Tail turned to red sunset on a juniper crown a lone magpie cawks.

Mad at Oryoki in the shrine-room - Thistles blossomed late afternoon.

2nd Chorus Mexico City Blues

© Jack Kerouac

Man in the Middle
Is not Worried
He knows his Karma
Is not buried

1918

Мчались звезды. В море мылись мысы.
Слепла соль. И слезы высыхали.
Были темны спальни. Мчались мысли,
И прислушивался сфинкс к Сахаре.

1st Chorus Mexico City Blues

© Jack Kerouac

Butte Magic of Ignorance

Butte Magic

1866 -- Addressed To The Old Year

© Henry Timrod

Art thou not glad to close
Thy wearied eyes, O saddest child of Time,
Eyes which have looked on every mortal crime,
And swept the piteous round of mortal woes?