All Poems
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West Of Fanny O'Dea's
© Alice Guerin Crist
Youll not find the name in geography books,
It isnt marked on the map,
Nor mentioned in atlas or history,
Yet youve heard of the place mayhap.
Voluptas
© James Weldon Johnson
To chase a never-reached mirage
Across the hot, white sand,
And choke and die, while gazing on
Its green and watered strand.
An Essay on Criticism: Part 2
© Alexander Pope
Thus critics, of less judgment than caprice,
Curious not knowing, not exact but nice,
Form short ideas; and offend in arts
(As most in manners) by a love to parts.
October, 1915
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
When the white rose and the red spill their leaves upon the way,
Make a scented path to tread through the long, sun-haunted day;
Northumberland House
© Stevie Smith
I was always a thoughtful youngster,
Said the lady on the omnibus,
I remember Father used to say,
You are more thoughtful than us.
The Pleasures of Imagination: Book The Fourth
© Mark Akenside
One effort more, one cheerful sally more,
Our destin'd course will finish. and in peace
Sonnet 103: "Alack! what poverty my Muse brings forth,..."
© William Shakespeare
Alack! what poverty my Muse brings forth,
That having such a scope to show her pride,
Blood
© Naomi Shihab Nye
“A true Arab knows how to catch a fly in his hands,”
my father would say. And he’d prove it,
cupping the buzzer instantly
while the host with the swatter stared.
The Child's Funeral
© William Cullen Bryant
Fair is thy site, Sorrento, green thy shore,
Black crags behind thee pierce the clear blue skies;
The sea, whose borderers ruled the world of yore,
As clear and bluer still before thee lies.
Counting Backwards
© Linda Pastan
How did I get so old,
I wonder,
contemplating
my 67th birthday.
Dyslexia smiles:
I’m 76 in fact.
The Man On The Dump
© Wallace Stevens
Day creeps down. The moon is creeping up.
The sun is a corbeil of flowers the moon Blanche
Sonnet CVI: When in the Chronicle of Wasted Time
© William Shakespeare
When in the chronicle of wasted time
I see descriptions of the fairest wights,
A Lay Of St. Gengulphus
© Richard Harris Barham
Gengulphus comes from the Holy Land,
With his scrip, and his bottle, and sandal shoon;
Full many a day has he been away,
Yet his Lady deems him return'd full soon.
In Black
© Joyce Sutphen
The image that haunts me is not beautiful.
I do not think it will open into a field
of wildflowers; I doubt that it will take
wing suddenly, startling us into admiration.
Rubaiyat 06
© Shams al-Din Hafiz
You are the moon and the sun is your slave;
As your slave, it like you must behave.
It is only your luminosity and light
That light of sun and moon can save.
Bailing Out-A Poem for the 1970s
© Hugo Williams
Whose woods these are I think I know ...
The landings had gone wrong; white silk,
Venus And Adonis
© William Shakespeare
TO THE
RIGHT HONORABLE HENRY WRIOTHESLY,
EARL OF SOUTHAMPTON, AND BARON OF TICHFIELD.
RIGHT HONORABLE,
Faint Music
© Robert Hass
Maybe you need to write a poem about grace.
When everything broken is broken,
