All Poems

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Speak Gently

© David Bates

Speak gently! - It is better far

To rule by love, than fear -

Burning the Old Year

© Naomi Shihab Nye

Letters swallow themselves in seconds.
Notes friends tied to the doorknob,
transparent scarlet paper,
sizzle like moth wings,
marry the air.

Unter den roten Blumen

© Ludwig Bechstein

Unter den roten Blumen schlumm're, lieb' Vögelein!

Unter den roten Blumen graben wir traurig dich ein.

Grace

© John Logan

We suffer from the repression of the sublime.
—Roberto Assagioli

Suna hia loog

© Ahmad Faraz

Suna hia loog usey ankh bhar key dekhtey hien

So Us key sher mien kuch din ther key dekhtey hien

Sonnet XIX: Devouring Time, Blunt thou the Lion's Paws

© William Shakespeare

Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion's paws,

And make the earth devour her own sweet brood;

Union Square

© Sara Teasdale

With the man I love who loves me not,
I walked in the street-lamps' flare;
We watched the world go home that night
In a flood through Union Square.

Poem

© Carl Rakosi

Moths alighted,
beetles swarmed,
flies buzzed
in the stomach.

Spider

© Sylvia Plath

Anansi, black busybody of the folktales,
You scuttle out on impulse
Blunt in self-interest
As a sledge hammer, as a man's bunched fist,

Hazy Alley Incident

© Roddy Lumsden

Eugene, OR

Girl shouting Oliver! at the top of the cut-through

La Mer

© Oscar Wilde

A white mist drifts across the shrouds,
A wild moon in this wintry sky
Gleams like an angry lion's eye
Out of a mane of tawny clouds.

Old Song

© Edward Fitzgerald

TIS a dull sight
To see the year dying,
When winter winds
Set the yellow wood sighing:
Sighing, O sighing!

Sonnet XXIII: Methought I Saw my Late Espoused Saint

© Patrick Kavanagh

Methought I saw my late espoused saint

Brought to me, like Alcestis, from the grave,

The Cherry Tree

Its oldest branches now, the survivors carved
by knife blades, rain, and wind, are sending shoots
straight up, blood red, into the light again.

To The Author Of The Foregoing Pastoral - (Love And Friendship)

By Sylvia if thy charming self be meant;

If friendship be thy virgin vows' extent,

Hearing the terrors of the war, sore troubled,
By each new victim of the combat torn--
Nor friend, nor wife I give my utmost pity,
Nor do I for the fallen hero mourn.
Alas! the wife will find a consolation.
The friend by friend is soon forgot in turn.

The Kite

Today I watched a boy fly his kite.

It didn’t crackle in the wind – but

Chanson dAmour

© Gace Brulé

This absence from my own countrys

So long, it brings me to deaths door,

Weep

Weep for the country in its present state,
And of the gloom which still the future waits;
The proud confederate eagle heard the sound,
And with her flight fell prostrate to the ground!