All Poems
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Reflex Musings: Reflections From Various Surfaces
© James Clerk Maxwell
In the dense entangled street,
Where the web of Trade is weaving,
The Author Of The Jesus Papers Speaks
© Anne Sexton
In my dream
I milked a cow,
the terrible udder
like a great rubber lily
Love #1.
© Robert Crawford
E'en her own eyes tell Beauty she is fair;
And Love need know no language save his own
In any clime to read the heart's desire;
The Titicacan and Caucasian's his
The Touch
© Anne Sexton
The trouble is
that I'd let my gestures freeze.
The trouble was not
in the kitchen or the tulips
but only in my head, my head.
Mad Girl's Love Song
© Sylvia Plath
"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
Words
© Anne Sexton
Be careful of words,
even the miraculous ones.
For the miraculous we do our best,
sometimes they swarm like insects
Soul-Sickness
© Jones Very
How many of the body's health complain,
When they some deeper malady conceal;
For The Year Of The Insane
© Anne Sexton
a prayerO Mary, fragile mother,
hear me, hear me now
although I do not know your words.
The black rosary with its silver Christ
The Palm And The Pine
© Heinrich Heine
Beneath an Indian palm a girl
Of other blood reposes;
Her cheek is clear and pale as pearl
Amid that wild of roses.
Jerusalem Delivered - Book 02 - part 06
© Torquato Tasso
LXVI
"True labour in the vineyard of thy Lord,
Rapunzel
© Anne Sexton
As for Mother Gothel,
her heart shrank to the size of a pin,
never again to say: Hold me, my young dear,
hold me,
and only as she dreamed of the yellow hair
did moonlight sift into her mouth.
Oh! Mr. Malthus!
© Stephen Leacock
Turn back to Malthus as he walked o'er English Fields and Downs
And walked at night the crooked Streets of crooked English Towns,
Lifeless, undying, Shade or Man, as one that could not die
A hundred years his Shadow fell, a hundred Years to lie,
The Shadow on the Window Pane when Malthus' Ghost went by.
Clothes
© Anne Sexton
The hat I was married in,
will it do?
White, broad, fake flowers in a tiny array.
It's old-fashioned, as stylish as a bedbug,
but is suits to die in something nostalgic.
Little Lucy Landman
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
Oh, the day has set me dreaming
In a strange, half solemn way
The Truth the Dead Know
© Anne Sexton
Gone, I say and walk from church,
refusing the stiff procession to the grave,
letting the dead ride alone in the hearse.
It is June. I am tired of being brave.
Love Letter Written In A Burning Building
© Anne Sexton
I am in a crate, the crate that was ours,
full of white shirts and salad greens,
the icebox knocking at our delectable knocks,
and I wore movies in my eyes,
Why Negroes Don't Unite
© Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
Why of all the many races in the country where we live,
Do we find so little union as the Negro race can give?
Is it lack of love? or color? who will give the reason true,
Why they cherish opposition more than other peoples do?
The Wifebeater
© Anne Sexton
There will be mud on the carpet tonight
and blood in the gravy as well.
The wifebeater is out,
the childbeater is out
King Charles the Martyr
© John Keble
Praise to our Pardoning God! though silent now
The thunders of the deep prophetic sky,
Though in our sight no powers of darkness bow
Before th Apostles glorious company;
