All Poems
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Ad Manus Puellae
© Ernest Christopher Dowson
I was always a lover of ladies' hands!
Or ever mine heart came here to tryst,
For the sake of your carved white hands' commands;
The tapering fingers, the dainty wrist;
The hands of a girl were what I kissed.
i wanted to overthrow the government but all i brought down was somebody's wife
© Charles Bukowski
30 dogs, 20 men on 20 horses and one fox
and look here, they write,
you are a dupe for the state, the church,
you are in the ego-dream,
read your history, study the monetary system,
note that the racial war is 23,000 years old.
Benevolent Assimilation
© George Ade
We haven't the appearance, goodness knows,
Of plain commercial men;
Epitaph on the Tombstone of a Child, the Last of Seven that Died Before
© Aphra Behn
This Little, Silent, Gloomy Monument,
The Unknown Eros. Book I.
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
Well dost thou, Love, thy solemn Feast to hold
In vestal February;
Not rather choosing out some rosy day
From the rich coronet of the coming May,
When all things meet to marry!
from Colin Clout
© Alice Walker
Quis consurget mecum adversus malignantes? aut quis stabit mecum adversus operantes iniquitatem? Nemo, Domine!
What can it avail
from Anactoria
© Algernon Charles Swinburne
after Sappho
Yea, thou shalt be forgotten like spilt wine,
Salvador Dali
© David Gascoyne
The smooth plain with its mirrors listens to the cliff
Like a basilisk eating flowers.
And the children, lost in the shadows of the catacombs,
Call to the mirrors for help:
'Strong-bow of salt, cutlass of memory,
Write on my map the name of every river.'
Sonnet
© James Weldon Johnson
My heart be brave, and do not falter so,
Nor utter more that deep, despairing wail.
The Insect
© Pablo Neruda
Over these hills I pass,
hills the colour of oats,
crossed with faint tracks
that only I know,
scorched centimetres,
pale perspectives.
Giant Night
© Anne Waldman
Awake in a giant night
is where I am
There is a river where my soul,
hungry as a horse drinks beside me
Easter Night
© Alice Meynell
All night had shout of men
And cry of woeful women filled his way;
Until that noon of sombre sky
On Friday, clamour and display smote him;
No solitude had He,
No silence, since Gethsemane.
The Stone Axe
© Robinson Jeffers
Iron rusts, and bronze has its green sickness; while flint, the hard stones, flint and chalcedony,
Cut the soft stream of time as if they were made for immortal uses. So the two-thousand-year-old
The Dead
© Jones Very
I see them crowd on crowd they walk the earth
Dry, leafless trees no Autumn wind laid bare,
Morning
© Billy Collins
Why do we bother with the rest of the day,
the swale of the afternoon,
the sudden dip into evening,
How Are Thy Servants Blest, O Lord!
© Joseph Addison
How are Thy servants blest, O Lord!
How sure is their defense!
Eternal wisdom is their guide,
Their help Omnipotence.
The Door
© Robert Creeley
for Robert Duncan
It is hard going to the door
cut so small in the wall where
the vision which echoes loneliness
brings a scent of wild flowers in a wood.
Meeting
© Boris Pasternak
The snow will dust the roadway,
And load the roofs still more.
I'll stretch my legs a little:
You're there outside the door.
