All Poems
/ page 1333 of 3210 /i wrote a life
© Billy John Hope
this might be the swan song
i have traveled beyond misty mountains
spilled my seed on the hungry rock
hallowed days
Fairy Tale (2)
© Katherine Mansfield
Now folds the Tree of Day its perfect flowers,
And every bloom becomes a bud again,
Shut and sealed up against the golden showers
Of bees that hover in the velvet hours….
Afternoon Poem
© Billy John Hope
a lion at the door
swallowed the day
broken with spite
at the inevitable chorus of pop songs
sutured for soft light
Eurydice
© James Russell Lowell
Heaven's cup held down to me I drain,
The sunshine mounts and spurs my brain;
Half Steps
© Billy John Hope
folly cracked the mirror
a soul gasping wound
voodoo induced vertigo
psychedelic blackouts
Sabbath Bells
© George MacDonald
Oh holy Sabbath bells,
Ye have a pleasant voice!
Through all the land your music swells,
And man with one commandment tells
To rest and to rejoice.
The Stars Are Mansions Built By Nature's Hand
© William Wordsworth
The stars are mansions built by Nature's hand,
And, haply, there the spirits of the blest
Ode To a Chestnut on the Ground
© Pablo Neruda
From bristly foliage
you fell
complete, polished wood, gleaming mahogany,
as perfect
Natalias Resurrection: Sonnet XI
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
So in his agony at noon he came,
On the third day, to where without the walls
Stood San Lorenzo with its front of flame,
Where mourners wait the accustomed funerals.
Orpheus
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
What wondrous sound is that, mournful and faint,
But more melodious than the murmuring wind
Which through the columns of a temple glides?
In the ember days of my last free summer
© Benjamin Jonson
In the ember days of my last free summer,
here I lie, outside myself, watching
the gross body eating a poor curry:
satisfied at what I have done, scared of what
I have to do in my last free winter.
Ode To a Lemon
© Pablo Neruda
Out of lemon flowers
loosed
on the moonlight, love's
lashed and insatiable
The White Mans Burden
© Pablo Neruda
Lost in the forest, I broke off a dark twig
and lifted its whisper to my thirsty lips:
maybe it was the voice of the rain crying,
a cracked bell, or a torn heart.
To The Teachers Of America
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
TEACHERS of teachers! Yours the task,
Noblest that noble minds can ask,
Ode To Salt
© Pablo Neruda
In its caves
the salt moans, mountain
of buried light,
translucent cathedral,
crystal of the sea, oblivion
of the waves.
For A Virgin And Child By Hans Memmelinck
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
(In the Academy of Bruges)
MYSTERY: God, man's life, born into man