Anger poems

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The Cup of Life

© Archibald Lampman

One after one the high emotions fade;
  Time's wheeling measure empties and refills
  Year after year; we seek no more the hills
That lured our youth divine and unafraid,

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Share of obligation

© Ivan Donn Carswell

If the debate rages in the pages of the news today
then I’m confused, I’ve searched and found no evidence.
Perhaps the anger of some residents about a Catholic school
that’s due to close because its roll has fallen lower

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Retribution

© Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer

When Egypt said, "Exterminate
The males among the Jews,
Fair Goshen's land make desolate
And bid them glad adieus:"

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Free from intrusion

© Ivan Donn Carswell

You awaken this time with a welcoming smile, an experience
sublime, not a dream – the boner from Hell
has presented itself like a prospect of fate, and reasoned
debate be damned, you’ll argue its merits later.

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Bretton Wood

© Ivan Donn Carswell

It happened by Bretton Wood (although that
wasn’t it’s real name) and I recall a clear, grey dawn
and the tall sky fallow with torpid clouds;
we went on before to watch how they sundered out

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If I Forget Thee

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

If I forget thee! How shall I forget thee?
Sword of the mighty! Prince and Lord of War!
Captive I bind me
To the spears that blind me,
Rage in my heart and love for evermore.

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The Golden Legend: VI. The School Of Salerno

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  _Doctor Serafino._ I, with the Doctor Seraphic, maintain,
That a word which is only conceived in the brain
Is a type of eternal Generation;
The spoken word is the Incarnation.

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Turns And Movies: Rose And Murray

© Conrad Aiken

After the movie, when the lights come up,
He takes her powdered hand behind the wings;
She, all in yellow, like a buttercup,
Lifts her white face, yearns up to him, and clings;

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The House Of Dust: Part 04: 06: Cinema

© Conrad Aiken

The music ends. The screen grows dark. We hurry
To go our devious secret ways, forgetting
Those many lives . . . We loved, we laughed, we killed,
We danced in fire, we drowned in a whirl of sea-waves.
The flutes are stilled, and a thousand dreams are stilled.

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The Soudanese

© William Watson

They wrong'd not us, nor sought 'gainst us to wage

The bitter battle. On their God they cried

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Disarmament

© John Greenleaf Whittier

"Put up the sword!" The voice of Christ once more
Speaks, in the pauses of the cannon's roar,
O'er fields of corn by fiery sickles reaped
And left dry ashes; over trenches heaped

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The Tretis Of The Twa Mariit Women And The Wedo

© William Dunbar

  Quhen that the semely had said her sentence to end,
  Than all thai leuch apon loft with latis full mery,
  And raucht the cop round about full of riche wynis,
  And ralyeit lang, or thai wald rest, with ryatus speche.

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Hermann And Dorothea - IV. Euterpe

© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

"Mother," he said in confusion:--"You greatly surprise me!" and quickly
Wiped he away his tears, the noble and sensitive youngster.
"What! You are weeping, my son?" the startled mother continued
"That is indeed unlike you! I never before saw you crying!
Say, what has sadden'd your heart? What drives you to sit here all lonely
Under the shade of the pear-tree? What is it that makes you unhappy?"

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Astrophel And Stella-Eleventh Song

© Sir Philip Sidney

"Who is it that this dark night
Underneath my window plaineth?"
'It is one who from thy sight
Being, ah! exiled, disdaineth
Every other vulgar light.'

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Injustice of the Courts

© Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer

Whites alone upon the jury in a number of the states,
Thus they crush a helpless Negro with their prejudicial hates;
Legal ills they thrust upon him, and the tale is passing sad—
Equal rights with white men? Never! Color-phobia makes them mad.

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Confession

© Louise Gluck

To say I'm without fear--
It wouldn't be true.
I'm afraid of sickness, humiliation.
Like anyone, I have my dreams.

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Inferno Canto03

© Dante Alighieri

Per me si va ne la citt? dolente,
per me si va ne l'etterno dolore,
per me si va tra la perduta gente .

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Inferno (English)

© Dante Alighieri

CANTO I
ONE night, when half my life behind me lay,
I wandered from the straight lost path afar.
Through the great dark was no releasing way;

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Visiting a Dead Man on a Summer Day

© Marge Piercy

But the Getty tomb: white, snow patterned
in a triangle of trees swims dappled with leaf shadow,
sketched light arch within arch
delicate as fingernail moons.

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To the Pay Toilet

© Marge Piercy

You strop my anger, especially
when I find you in restaurant or bar
and pay for the same liquid, coming and going.
In bus depots and airports and turnpike plazas