Poems begining by C
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Cabin
© Anne Waldman
eviction people arrive to haunt me
with descriptions of summer’s wildflowers
how they are carpet of fierce colors
Chomei at Toyama
© Ted Hughes
Swirl sleeping in the waterfall!
On motionless pools scum appearing
disappearing!
Constantinople
© Lady Mary Wortley Montagu
Greiv'd at a view which strikes vpon my Mind
The short liv'd Vanity of Human kind
In Gaudy Objects I indulge my Sight,
And turn where Eastern Pomp gives gay delight.
Canicule Macaronique
© John Fuller
Heureux ceux qui ont la clim—Corse-Matin (6.8.94)
Heureux ceux qui ont la clim
Pendant la grande canicule.
Heureux those whose culs are cool.
Heureuse her and heureux him.
Catch
© Langston Hughes
Being a fisher boy,
He’d found a fish
To carry—
Half fish,
Half girl
To marry.
Connubial
© Stephen Dunn
Because with alarming accuracy
she’d been identifying patterns
I was unaware of—this tic, that
tendency, like the way I’ve mastered
the language of intimacy
in order to conceal how I felt—
Come slowly – Eden! (205)
© Emily Dickinson
Come slowly – Eden!
Lips unused to Thee –
Bashful – sip thy Jessamines –
As the fainting Bee –
Cheerios
© Billy Collins
One bright morning in a restaurant in Chicago
as I waited for my eggs and toast,
I opened the Tribune only to discover
that I was the same age as Cheerios.
Crepuscule with Muriel
© Marilyn Hacker
Instead of a cup of tea, instead of a milk-
silk whelk of a cup, of a cup of nearly six
Conclusion
© Madison Julius Cawein
The songs Love sang to us are dead:
Yet shall he sing to us again,
When the dull days are wrapped in lead,
And the red woodland drips with rain.
Chinese Whispers
© John Ashbery
And in a little while we broke under the strain:
suppurations ad nauseam, the wanting to be taller,
Considerations - On Part Of The 88th Psalm. A College Exercise
© Matthew Prior
Heavy, O Lord, on my thy judgements lie;
Accursed I am while God rejects my cry.
Cardinal Ideograms
© May Swenson
Three-cornered hut
on one stilt. Sometimes built
so the roof gapes.
Cold!
© Leon Gellert
Come not to me with loveliness
Across the crying hill;
For once I held thee pitiless
Hast thou no pity still?
Christian
© Ambrose Bierce
I dreamed I stood upon a hill, and, lo!
The godly multitudes walked to and fro
