All Poems
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De Catone
© Richard Lovelace
The world orecome, victorious Caesar, he
That conquer'd all, great Cato, could not thee.
Bound for Hell
© Marina Tsvetaeva
Hell, my ardent sisters, be assured,
Is where we’re bound; we’ll drink the pitch of hell—
We, who have sung the praises of the lord
With every fiber in us, every cell.
Noonis the Hinge of Day
© Emily Dickinson
Noonis the Hinge of Day
Eveningthe Tissue Door
Morningthe East compelling the sill
Till all the World is ajar
[Letter to Gary Bottone]
© Jack Spicer
Dear Gary,
Somehow your letter was no surprise (and I think you knew that it was no surprise or you would have tried to break the news more gently); somehow I think we understand what the other is going to say long before we say it—a proof of love and, I think, a protection against misunderstanding. So I've been expecting this letter for five weeks now—and I still don't know how to answer it.
Bohemia is a dreadful, wonderful place. It is full of hideous people and beautiful poetry. It is a hell full of windows into heaven. It would be wrong of me to drag a person I love into such a place against his will. Unless you walk into it freely, and with open despairing eyes, you can't even see the windows. And yet I can't leave Bohemia myself to come to you—Bohemia is inside of me, in a sense is me, was the price I paid, the oath I signed to write poetry.
I think that someday you'll enter Bohemia—not for me (I'm not worth the price, no human being is), but for poetry—to see the windows and maybe blast a few yourself through the rocks of hell. I'll be there waiting for you, my arms open to receive you.
Wordsworth At Dove Cottage
© Alfred Austin
Wise Wordsworth, to avert your ken,
From half of human fate.
The Dome of Sunday
© Ishmael Reed
As if one life emerging from one house
Would pause, a single image caught between
Two facing mirrors where vision multiplies
Beyond perspective,
A silent clatter in the high-speed eye
Spinning out photo-circulars of sight.
Beside The Idle Summer Sea
© William Ernest Henley
Beside the idle summer sea,
And in the vacant summer days,
Light Love came fluting down the ways,
Where you were loitering with me.
Winter Break
© Archibald Lampman
All day between high-curded clouds the sun
Shone down like summer on the steaming planks.
The American Soldier
© Philip Morin Freneau
A Picture from the Life
To serve with love,
And shed your blood,
Approved may be above,
In The Valley Of Cautertz
© Alfred Tennyson
All along the valley, stream that flashest white,
Deepening thy voice with the deepening of the night,
After great pain, a formal feeling comes – (372)
© Emily Dickinson
After great pain, a formal feeling comes –
The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs –
The stiff Heart questions ‘was it He, that bore,’
And ‘Yesterday, or Centuries before’?
Us Poets
© Franklin Pierce Adams
Swift was sweet on Stella;
Poe had his Lenore;
Burns' fancy turned to Nancy
And a dozen more.
Sence You Went Away
© James Weldon Johnson
Seems lak to me de stars don't shine so bright,
Seems lak to me de sun done loss his light,
Seems lak to me der's nothin' goin' right,
Sence you went away.
The Reaper.
© Arthur Henry Adams
The world is drowsy, the winds asleep,
On the sward of the sky the star-blossoms peep,
And the grey Moon moves with his silver scythe
The pallid flowers of light to reap.
Waving Goodbye
© Gerald Stern
I wanted to know what it was like before we
had voices and before we had bare fingers and before we
"When I used to focus on the worries, everybody"
© Joanne Kyger
When I used to focus on the worries, everybody
was ahead of me, I was the bottom
of the totem pole,
a largely spread squat animal.
