Love poems
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The True Story of My Father
© Starnino Carmine
There were days when I'd catch himalone at the kitchen table, lostinside some regret, his headcradled in his hands like the part
Pugnax Gives Notice
© Starnino Carmine
He’s done with it, the tridents and tigers,the manager’s greed, the sumptuous bedsof noble women who please their own moods
Our Butcher
© Starnino Carmine
I could bone up, be the right man for that one-man job,hang by its hocks a rabbit shucked from the jacketof its black-bristled fur and still talking in twitches
On the Obsolescence of Caphone
© Starnino Carmine
Last heard—with a lovely hiss on the "ph"—August 1982 during an afternoon game of scopaturned nasty. And now, missing alongside it,are hundreds of slogans, shibboleths, small
The Girl from Zlot
© Stallworthy Jon
Four gray walls, and four gray towers Overlook a space of flowers,And the silent isle embowers The Lady of Shalott.
From the Life
© Stallworthy Jon
"All this takes place on a hilly island in the Mediterranean," Picasso said
In Rainy September
© Robert Bly
In rainy September when leaves grow down to the dark
I put my forehead down to the damp seaweed-smelling sand.
What can we do but choose? The only way for human beings
is to choose. The fern has no choice but to live;
for this crime it receives earth water and night.
The Faerie Queene, Book VI, Canto 10
© Edmund Spenser
THE SIXTE BOOKE OF THE FAERIE QUEENEContayningTHE LEGEND OF S. CALIDOREOR OF COURTESIE
Driving to Town Late to Mail a Letter
© Robert Bly
It is a cold and snowy night. The main street is deserted.
The only things moving are swirls of snow.
As I lift the mailbox door I feel its cold iron.
There is a privacy I love in this snowy night.
Driving around I will waste more time.
The Faerie Queene, Book III, Canto 6
© Edmund Spenser
THE THIRD BOOKE OF THE FAERIE QUEENEContayningTHE LEGENDE OF BRITOMARTISOR OF CHASTITIE
The Faerie Queene, Book II, Canto 12
© Edmund Spenser
THE SECOND BOOKE OF THE FAERIE QUEENEContayningTHE LEGEND OF SIR GUYON,OR OF TEMPERAUNCE
At Midocean
© Robert Bly
All day I loved you in a fever holding on to the tail of the horse.
I overflowed whenever I reached out to touch you.
The Old Man's Complaints. And how he gained them
© Robert Southey
You are old, Father William, the young man cried, The few locks which are left you are grey;You are hale, Father William, a hearty old man, Now tell me the reason I pray.
Answer to an Invitation to Dine at Fishmongers Hall
© Smith Sydney
Much do I love, at civic treat,The monsters of the deep to eat;To see the rosy salmon lying,By smelts encircled, born for frying;And from the china boat to pour,On flaky cod, the flavour'd shower
