All Poems

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Lines Written in Early Spring

© André Breton

I heard a thousand blended notes,
While in a grove I sate reclined,
In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts
Bring sad thoughts to the mind.

Madrigal: "Like the Idalian queen"

© William Drummond (of Hawthornden)

Like the Idalian queen,

Her hair about her eyne,

The Speed of Darkness

© Katha Pollitt

Whoever despises the clitoris despises the penis
Whoever despises the penis despises the cunt
Whoever despises the cunt despises the life of the child.

Mirrors at 4 a.m.

© Charles Simic

You must come to them sideways

In rooms webbed in shadow,

Fragment 10: The Three Sorts of Friends

Though friendships differ endless in degree ,
The sorts , methinks, may be reduced to three.
Ac quaintance many, and Con quaintance few;
But for In quaintance I know only two—
The friend I've mourned with, and the maid I woo!

Dolores (Notre-Dame des Sept Douleurs)

© Algernon Charles Swinburne

Cold eyelids that hide like a jewel

Hard eyes that grow soft for an hour;

To the Swimmer

© Countee Cullen

Now as I watch you, strong of arm and endurance, battling and struggling
With the waves that rush against you, ever with invincible strength returning
Into my heart, grown each day more tranquil and peaceful, comes a fierce longing
Of mind and soul that will not be appeased until, like you, I breast yon deep and boundless expanse of blue.

Calling Him Back from Layoff?

© Richard Jones

I called a man today. After he said

hello and I said hello came a pause

Twilight Blues

© Samuel Menashe

(Morton St. Pier)
Lying here
Flat on my back
I can almost see
Myself in the morgue
On a slab, tagged

Between Walls

© William Carlos Williams

the back wings

of the

San Francisco

© Jack Gilbert

This poem was found written on a paper bag by Richard Brautigan in a laundromat in San Francisco. The author is unknown.

By accident, you put

And, the Last Day Being Come, Man Stood Alone

© Trumbull Stickney

And, the last day being come, Man stood alone
Ere sunrise on the world’s dismantled verge,
Awaiting how from everywhere should urge
The Coming of the Lord. And, behold, none

"Who is Silvia?"

© William Shakespeare

Who is Silvia? what is she,
That all our swains commend her?
Holy, fair, and wise is she;
The heaven such grace did lend her,
That she might admirèd be.

O Captain! My Captain!

© Walt Whitman

O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,

The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,

The Cave Painters

Holding only a handful of rushlight

they pressed deeper into the dark, at a crouch

The Exam

It is mid-October. The trees are in

their autumnal glory (red, yellow-green,

Leaf Litter on Rock Face

Things are not

unmoving (or else what

Eclogue the Second: HASSAN; or, the Camel-driver.

Ah! little thought I of the blasting wind,
The thirst or pinching hunger that I find!
Bethink thee, Hassan, where shall thirst assuage,
When fails this cruise, his unrelenting rage?
Soon shall this scrip its precious load resign;
Then what but tears and hunger shall be thine?