All Poems

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Mechanism

© Archie Randolph Ammons

Honor a going thing, goldfinch, corporation, tree,

  morality: any working order,

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Thanking My Mother for Piano Lessons

© Diane Wakoski

The relief of putting your fingers on the keyboard, 
as if you were walking on the beach
and found a diamond
as big as a shoe;

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Listening

© David Ignatow

You wept in your mother's arms 
and I knew that from then on 
I was to forget myself.

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The Late Worm

© Kay Ryan

The worms

which had been

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Soonest Mended

© John Ashbery

Barely tolerated, living on the margin

In our technological society, we were always having to be rescued 

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In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: 67

© Alfred Tennyson

When on my bed the moonlight falls,
 I know that in thy place of rest
 By that broad water of the west,
There comes a glory on the walls:

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Merry-No-Round

© Bill Knott

The wooden horses


are tired of their courses

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Misreading Housman

© Linda Pastan

On this first day of spring, snow

covers the fruit trees, mingling improbably 

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The Continent’s End

© Robinson Jeffers

At the equinox when the earth was veiled in a late rain, wreathed with wet poppies, waiting spring,

The ocean swelled for a far storm and beat its boundary, the ground-swell shook the beds of granite.

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Shroud of the Gnome

© James Tate

And what amazes me is that none of our modern inventions

surprise or interest him, even a little. I tell him

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Movie

© Eileen Myles

You’re like

a little fruit

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Rhapsody on a Windy Night

© Thomas Stearns Eliot

Half-past three,
The lamp sputtered,
The lamp muttered in the dark.

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Glanmore Sonnets

© Seamus Justin Heaney

For Ann Saddlemyer,
our heartiest welcomer

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[in Just-]

© Edward Estlin Cummings

in Just-
spring  when the world is mud-
luscious the little
lame balloonman

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from The Sleepers

© Walt Whitman

I see a beautiful gigantic swimmer swimming naked through the eddies of the sea,
His brown hair lies close and even to his head, he strikes out with courageous arms, he urges himself with his legs,
I see his white body, I see his undaunted eyes,
I hate the swift-running eddies that would dash him head-foremost on the rocks.

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The Virgin

© André Breton



Mother! whose virgin bosom was uncrost

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The Children of Stare

© Walter de la Mare

 Winter is fallen early
 On the house of Stare;
Birds in reverberating flocks
 Haunt its ancestral box;
 Bright are the plenteous berries
 In clusters in the air.

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The moon now rises to her absolute rule

© Henry David Thoreau

The moon now rises to her absolute rule,

And the husbandman and hunter

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Dejection: An Ode

© Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Late, late yestreen I saw the new Moon,
With the old Moon in her arms;
And I fear, I fear, my Master dear!
We shall have a deadly storm.

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Pillow Talk

© John Fuller

Wondered Knob-Cracker at Stout-Heart: 
‘Are you timed by your will, does your pulse 
List credit, ready to slam like a till?
Can you keep it up?’