All Poems
/ page 1560 of 3210 /Song for Baby-O, Unborn
© Diane di Prima
Sweetheart
when you break thru
you’ll find
a poet here
not quite what one would choose.
To the Poetry* of Hugh McCrae
© Kenneth Slessor
Uncles who burst on childhood, from the East,
Blown from air, like bearded ghosts arriving,
And are, indeed, a kind of guessed-at ghost
Through mumbled names at dinner-tables moving,
The Metal and the Flower
© P. K. Page
Intractable between them grows
a garden of barbed wire and roses.
Burning briars like flames devour
their too innocent attire.
Dare they meet, the blackened wire
tears the intervening air.
The Lake Isle of Innisfree
© William Butler Yeats
I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
A Poem on the Assassination of Robert F. Kennedy
© Nikki Giovanni
Trees are never felled . . . in summer . . . Not when the fruit . . .
is yet to be borne . . . Never before the promise . . . is fulfilled . . .
Not when their cooling shade . . . has yet to comfort . . .
The Dead
© Don Paterson
Our business is with fruit and leaf and bloom;
though they speak with more than just the season's tongue—
Saturday’s Child
© Countee Cullen
Some are teethed on a silver spoon,
With the stars strung for a rattle;
I cut my teeth as the black raccoon—
For implements of battle.
Surgeons must be very careful (156)
© Emily Dickinson
Surgeons must be very careful
When they take the knife!
Underneath their fine incisions
Stirs the Culprit - Life!
The Rain-bow
© Thomas Love Peacock
The day has pass’d in storms, though not unmix’d
With transitory calm. The western clouds,
Box of Cigars
© Gerald Stern
I tried one or two but they were stale
and broke like sticks or crumbled when I rolled them
The Disabled Debauchee
© John Wilmot
As some brave admiral, in former war
Deprived of force, but pressed with courage still,
Two rival fleets appearing from afar,
Crawls to the top of an adjacent hill;
There Is No Word
© Tony Hoagland
There isn’t a word for walking out of the grocery store
with a gallon jug of milk in a plastic sack
that should have been bagged in double layers
Herbert Glerbett
© Jack Prelutsky
Herbert Glerbett, rather round,
swallow sherbet by the pound,
fifty pounds of lemon sherbet
went inside of Herbert Glerbett.
Bitch
© John Betjeman
Now, when he and I meet, after all these years,
I say to the bitch inside me, don’t start growling.
Sonnet CXXVI: O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy powr
© William Shakespeare
O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy powr
Dost hold times fickle glass his sickle hour,
Learning to swim
© Richard Jones
At forty-eight, to be given water,
which is most of the world, given life
in water, which is most of me, given ease,
To My Father on His Birthday
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Amidst the days of pleasant mirth,
That throw their halo round our earth;