Poems begining by M
/ page 121 of 130 /Meditation on the A30
© John Betjeman
A man on his own in a car
Is revenging himself on his wife;
He open the throttle and bubbles with dottle
and puffs at his pitiful life
Myfanwy
© John Betjeman
Kind oer the kinderbank leans my Myfanwy,
White oer the playpen the sheen of her dress,
Fresh from the bathroom and soft in the nursery
Soap scented fingers I long to caress.
Manteau Three
© Jorie Graham
must  it tangles up into a weave,
        tied up with votive offerings  laws, electricity  
what the speakers let loose from their tiny eternity,
        what the empty streets held up as offering 
when only a bit of wind
        litigated in the sycamores,
Mind
© Jorie Graham
The slow overture of rain, 
each drop breaking 
without breaking into 
the next, describes 
Mothers Smile
© Michael Burch
There never was a fonder smile
than mothers smile, no softer touch
than mothers touch. So sleep awhile
and know she loves you more than much.
Memory
© Michael Burch
A black ringlet
curls to lie
at the nape of her neck,
glistening with sweat
in the evaporate moonlight ...
This is what I remember
Mengcheng Col
© Wang Wei
New house Mengcheng entrance 
Old tree surplus sorrow willow 
Come person again for who 
Only sorrow former person be 
My Retreat at Mount Zhongnan
© Wang Wei
My heart in middle age found the Way. 
And I came to dwell at the foot of this mountain. 
When the spirit moves, I wander alone 
Amid beauty that is all for me.... 
Mount Zhongnan
© Wang Wei
Its massive height near the City of Heaven 
Joins a thousand mountains to the corner of the sea. 
Clouds, when I look back, close behind me, 
Mists, when I enter them, are gone. 
Metonymy as an Approach to a Real World
© William Bronk
Whether what we sense of this world
is the what of this world only, or the what 
of which of several possible worlds
--which what?--something of what we sense 
Minstrelsy
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
For ever, since my childish looks
Could rest on Nature's pictured books;
For ever, since my childish tongue
Could name the themes our bards have sung;
Mother and Poet
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Dead ! One of them shot by the sea in the east,
And one of them shot in the west by the sea.
Dead ! both my boys ! When you sit at the feast
And are wanting a great song for Italy free,
Let none look at me !
My Heart and I
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
I.ENOUGH ! we're tired, my heart and I.
We sit beside the headstone thus,
And wish that name were carved for us.
The moss reprints more tenderly
Muse
© Alexander Pushkin
In my youth's years, she loved me, I am sure.
The flute of seven pipes she gave in my tenure
And harked to me with smile -- without speed,
Along the ringing holes of the reed,
Morpheus
© Alexander Pushkin
Oh, Morpheus, give me joy till morning
For my forever painful love:
Just blow out candles' burning
And let my dreams in blessing move.
Melancholy
© John Fletcher
HENCE, all you vain delights,
   As short as are the nights
   Wherein you spend your folly!
There 's naught in this life sweet,
My Soul Thirsteth for God
© William Cowper
I thirst, but not as once I did,
The vain delights of earth to share;
Thy wounds, Emmanuel, all forbid
That I should seek my pleasures there.
Mourning and Longing
© William Cowper
The Saviour hides His face;
My spirit thirsts to prove
Renew'd supplies of pardoning grace,
And never-fading love.
Mutability
© Edmund Spenser
When I bethink me on that speech whilere,
Of Mutability, and well it weigh:
Me seems,that though she all unworthy were
Of the Heav'ns Rule; yet very sooth to say,
Machines
© Michael Donaghy
Dearest, note how these two are alike:
This harpsicord pavane by Purcell
And the racer's twelve-speed bike.





