All Poems
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Revenge of Injuries
© Elizabeth Carew
The fairest action of our human life
Is scorning to revenge an injury;
For who forgives without a further strife,
His adversary's heart to him doth tie.
And 'tis a firmer conquest truly said,
To win the heart, than overthrow the head.
Credo
© Robert Creeley
Creo que si ... I believe
it will rain
tomorrow ... I believe
the son of a bitch
Bosnia Tune
© Joseph Brodsky
As you pour yourself a scotch
Crush a roach or check your watch
As your hands adjust your tie people die
The Wind Of March
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Up from the sea, the wild north wind is blowing
Under the sky's gray arch;
Smiling, I watch the shaken elm-boughs, knowing
It is the wind of March.
There Was a Little Turtle
© Pierre Reverdy
He snapped at a mosquito.
He snapped at a flea.
He snapped at a minnow.
He snapped at me.
A Hymn
© James Thomson
These, as they change, Almighty Father, these
Are but the varied God. The rolling year
The Melon
© Charles Simic
There was a melon fresh from the garden
So ripe the knife slurped
As it cut it into six slices.
The children were going back to school.
Their mother, passing out paper plates,
Would not live to see the leaves fall.
The Chrysalis
© George MacDonald
Methought I floated sightless, nor did know
That I had ears until I heard the cry
A Phonecall from Frank O’Hara
© Anne Waldman
“That all these dyings may be life in death”
I was living in San Francisco
Grief Thief Of Time
© Dylan Thomas
Grief thief of time crawls off,
The moon-drawn grave, with the seafaring years,
Constructive
© Heather McHugh
You take a rock, your hand is hard.
You raise your eyes, and there's a pair
of small beloveds, caught in pails.
The monocle and eyepatch correspond.
Untitled
© Henry Lawson
When his heart is growing bitter and his hair is growing grey,
And he hears the debt-collector knocking several times a day,
And the shrill voice of the Missus, blame, reiterate, accuse
Then the poet who was famous feels inclined to damn the muse .....
I heard a Fly buzz - when I died - (591)
© Emily Dickinson
I heard a Fly buzz - when I died -
The Stillness in the Room
Was like the Stillness in the Air -
Between the Heaves of Storm -
Irish Peasant Song
© Louise Imogen Guiney
I TRY to knead and spin, but my life is low the while,
Oh, I long to be alone, and walk abroad a mile;
Yet if I walk alone, and think of naught at all,
Why from me thats young should the wild tears fall?
Within and Without: Part IV: A Dramatic Poem
© George MacDonald
SCENE I.-Summer. Julian's room. JULIAN is reading out of a book of
poems.
