All Poems

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Dreams in War Time

© Amy Lowell

I

I wandered through a house of many rooms.

Life Well Lost

© Giordano Bruno

Winged by desire and thee, O dear delight!

As still the vast and succoring air I tread,

Note to Reality

© Tony Hoagland

but your honeycombs and beetles; the dry blond fascicles of grass
thrust up above the January snow.
Your postcards of Picasso and Matisse,
from the museum series on European masters.

Nonsense Alphabet

© Edward Lear

A was an Area Arch
Where washerwomen sat;
They made a lot of lovely starch
To starch Papa's cravat.

Amoretti XV: Ye tradefull Merchants that with weary toyle

© Edmund Spenser

Ye tradefull Merchants that with weary toyle,

Do seeke most pretious things to make your gain:

The Broken Pitcher

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Accursed be the hour of that sad day
The careless potter put his hand to thee,
And dared to fashion out of common clay
So pure a shape as thou didst seem to me.

The cat’s song

© Marge Piercy

Mine, says the cat, putting out his paw of darkness.
My lover, my friend, my slave, my toy, says
the cat making on your chest his gesture of drawing
milk from his mother’s forgotten breasts.

During a tempest encountered homeward-bound from the Mediterranean, a grizzled petty-officer, one of the two captains of the forecastle, dying at night in his hammock, swung in the sick-bay under the tiered gun-decks of the British Dreadnought, 98, wandering in his mind, though with glimpses of sanity, and starting up at whiles, sings by snatches his good-bye and last injunctions to two messmates, his watchers, one of whom fans the fevered tar with the flap of his old sou'-wester. Some names and phrases, with here and there a line, or part of one; these, in his aberration, wrested into incoherency from their original connection and import, he involuntarily derives, as he does the measure, from a famous old sea-ditty, whose cadences, long rife, and now humming in the collapsing brain, attune the last flutterings of distempered thought.
Farewell and adieu to you noble hearties,
Farewell and adieu to you ladies of Spain,
For Ive received orders for to sail for the Deadman,
But hope with the grand fleet to see you again.

New Forest Ponies

© William Henry Ogilvie

You are free of the woodland meadows,

Of swamp and thicket and ride;

A Parting

© Mathilde Blind

The year is on the wing, my love,
With tearful days and nights;
The clouds are on the wing above
With gathering swallow-flights.

Haiku

© Tony Harrison

1
Eastern guard tower
glints in sunset; convicts rest
like lizards on rocks.

The Ballad of the Black-Sheep

© Henry Lawson

A black-sheep, from England, who worked on the run
Riding where the stockmen ride
He sat by the hut when the days work was done
Lone huts where the black sheep bide.
Im tired of my life! to his lone self said he,
My girl and my country are both done with me!