All Poems
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Johnnie Courteau
© William Henry Drummond
Johnnie Courteau of de mountain
Johnnie Courteau of de hill
Dat was de boy can shoot de gun
Dat was de boy can jomp an' run
An'it's not very often you ketch heem still
Johnnie Courteau !
Berket And The Stars
© William Carlos Williams
A day on the boulevards chosen out of ten years of
student poverty! One best day out of ten good ones.
Berket in high spirits"Ha, oranges! Let's have one!"
And he made to snatch an orange from the vender's cart.
Winter Trees
© William Carlos Williams
All the complicated detailsof the attiring andthe disattiring are completed!A liquid moonmoves gently amongthe long branches
Limerick
© Dylan Thomas
There was an old bugger called God,
who got a young virgin in pod.
This disgraceful behaviour
begot Christ our Saviour,
who was nailed to a cross, poor old sod.
The Hunters in the Snow
© William Carlos Williams
The over-all picture is winter
icy mountains
in the background the return
The Last Words Of My English Grandmother
© William Carlos Williams
There were some dirty plates
and a glass of milk
beside her on a small table
near the rank, disheveled bed
Music Is Time by Jill Bialosky : American Life in Poetry #263 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-20
© Ted Kooser
Music lessons, well, maybe 80 out of every 100 of us had them, once, and a few of us went on to play our chosen instruments all our lives. But the rest of us? I still own a set of red John Thompson piano books that haven’t been opened since about 1950. Here Jill Bialosky, who lives in New York City, captures the atmosphere of one of those lessons.
Nantucket
© William Carlos Williams
Flowers through the window
lavender and yellowchanged by white curtains
Smell of cleanlinessSunshine of late afternoon
On the glass traya glass pitcher, the tumbler
Horas Vivas
© Joaquim Maria Machado de Assis
Noite: abrem-se as flores . . .
Que esplendores!
Cíntia sonha seus amores
Pelo céu.
Danse Russe
© William Carlos Williams
If when my wife is sleeping
and the baby and Kathleen
are sleeping
and the sun is a flame-white disc
The Oats
© Jeppe Aakjaer
Here I stand with tinkling bells galore,
Twenty on each straw, I think, or more.
But the farmer, bless his honest soul,
Calls me oats and speaks of twenty fold.
Complaint
© William Carlos Williams
They call me and I go.
It is a frozen road
past midnight, a dust
of snow caught
The Crowd At The Ball Game
© William Carlos Williams
The crowd at the ball game
is moved uniformly
by a spirit of uselessness
which delights them
Portrait Of A Lady
© William Carlos Williams
Your thighs are appletrees
whose blossoms touch the sky.
Which sky? The sky
where Watteau hung a lady's
Hurrah for Cooper and Cary
© Julia A Moore
It is now one hundred years,
Or just one century,
Stood grand this good old nation,
And our forefathers fought
That we may not be a slave -
A slave to the monarchy of England.
A Goodnight
© William Carlos Williams
Go to sleepthough of course you will not
to tideless waves thundering slantwise against
strong embankments, rattle and swish of spray
dashed thirty feet high, caught by the lake wind,
