All Poems

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From out the glow, from out the flame, from ruin fierce and wild,
I saw her come with dancing feet and glad face like a child,
Her red-gold hair, her snow-white brow, her gown of silken green
Out through the ruins of her home, she walked as would a queen.
Ni Houlihan, Ni Houlihan, she came a splendid queen.

The Woman Who Collects Noah's Arks by Janet McCann: American Life in Poetry #15 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poe

© Ted Kooser

Many of us are collectors, attaching special meaning to the inanimate objects we acquire. Here, Texas poet Janet McCann gives us insight into the significance of one woman's collection. The abundance and variety of detail suggest the clutter of such a life.

The Woman Who Collects Noah's Arks

Count

© Paul Celan

Count the almonds,
count what was bitter and kept you awake,
count me in:

'Tambaroora Jim'

© Henry Lawson

When people said that loafers took the profit from his pub,
Hed ask them how they thought a chap could do without his grub;
Hed say, Ive gone for days myself without a bite or sup
Oh! Ive been through the mill and know what tis to be hard-up.
He might have made his fortune, but he wasnt in the swim,
For no one had a softer heart than Tambaroora Jim.

Bored And Sad

© Mikhail Lermontov

It's boring and sad, and there's no one around
In times of my spirit's travail…
Desires!…What use is our vain and eternal desire?..
While years pass on by - all the best years!

To A Beautiful Quaker

© George Gordon Byron

Sweet girl! though only once we met,

That meeting I shall ne'er forget;

A Song Of Greek Prose

© Robert Fuller Murray

Thrice happy are those
Who ne'er heard of Greek Prose
Or Greek Poetry either, as far as that goes;
For Liddell and Scott
Shall cumber them not,
Nor Sargent nor Sidgwick shall break their repose.

The Hand

© Ebenezer Jones

Lone o'er the moors I stray'd;

With basely timid mind,

The Soldier On Crutches

© Edgar Albert Guest

He came down the stairs on the laughter-filled grill
Where patriots were eating and drinking their fill,
The tap of his crutch on the marble of white
Caught my ear as I sat all alone there that night.
I turnedand a soldier my eyes fell upon,
He had fought for his country, and one leg was gone!

A Room In The Villa Taverna

© Frances Anne Kemble

Three windows cheerfully poured in the light:

One from the east, where o'er the Sabine hills

Death

© George MacDonald

Mourn not, my friends, that we are growing old:

A fresher birth brings every new year in.

A Rustic Seat Near The Sea

© William Lisle Bowles

To him, who, many a night upon the main,

At mid-watch, from the bounding vessel's side,

Spring Has Leapt Into Summer

© Robert Laurence Binyon

Spring has leapt into Summer.
A glory has gone from the green.
The flush of the poplar has sobered out,
The flame in the leaf of the lime is dulled:
But I am thinking of the young men
Whose faces are no more seen.

Annihilation

© Conrad Aiken

While the blue noon above us arches,
And the poplar sheds disconsolate leaves,
Tell me again why love bewitches,
And what love gives.

Night, Dim Night

Night, dim night, and it rains, my love, it rains,
(Art thou dreaming of me, I wonder)
The trees are sad, and the wind complains,
Outside the rolling of the thunder,
And the beat against the panes.

Causa

© Ezra Pound

I join these words for four people,
Some others may overhear them,
O world, I am sorry for you,
You do not know these four people.

Prose Poem

© Larry Levis

Toad, hog, assassin, mirror. Some of its favorite words, which are breath. Or handwriting: the long tail of the y disappearing into a barn like a rodents, and suddenly it is winter after all.

After all what? After the ponds dry up in mid-August and the children drop pins down each canyon and listen for an echo. Next question, please. What sex is it, if it has any? Its a male. Its a white male Caucasian. No distinguishing birthmarks, the usual mole above the chin. Last seen crossing against a light in Omaha. Looks intelligent. But havent most Americans seen this poem at least once by now? At least once. Then, how is the disease being . . . communicated? As far as we can determine, it is communicated entirely by doubt. As soon as the poets reach their mid-twenties they begin living behind hedgerows. At the other end of the hedgerows someone attractive is laughing, either at them, or with a lover during sexual intercourse. So it is like prom night. Yes. But what is the end of prom night? The end of prom night is inside the rodent; it is the barn collapsing on a summer day. It is inside the guts of a rodent. Then, at least, you are permitted an unobstructed view of the plain? Yes. And what will be out there, then, on the plain? A rider approaching with a tense face, who cant see that this horse has white roses instead of eyes. You mean . . . the whole thing all over again. Unfortunately, yes, at least as far as we are permitted to see