All Poems

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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.

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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,

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Salomé

© Ai

I scissor the stem of the red carnation

and set it in a bowl of water.

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When ’Midst the Gay I Meet

© Thomas Moore

When ’midst the gay I meet

 That gentle smile of thine,

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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.

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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.

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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 . . .

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The Dead

© Don Paterson

Our business is with fruit and leaf and bloom; 

though they speak with more than just the season's tongue— 

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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.

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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!

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The Rain-bow

© Thomas Love Peacock

The day has pass’d in storms, though not unmix’d

With transitory calm.  The western clouds,

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Ode to a Large Tuna in the Market

© Pablo Neruda

Here, 

among the market vegetables,

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Box of Cigars

© Gerald Stern

I tried one or two but they were stale

and broke like sticks or crumbled when I rolled them

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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;

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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

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Herbert Glerbett

© Jack Prelutsky

Herbert Glerbett, rather round,
swallow sherbet by the pound,
fifty pounds of lemon sherbet
went inside of Herbert Glerbett.

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Bitch

© John Betjeman

Now, when he and I meet, after all these years,

I say to the bitch inside me, don’t start growling. 

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Sonnet CXXVI: O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy pow’r

© William Shakespeare

O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy pow’r


Dost hold time’s fickle glass his sickle hour,

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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,

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To My Father on His Birthday

© Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Amidst the days of pleasant mirth,

That throw their halo round our earth;