Pet poems

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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,

The Guardian Angel Of The Private Life

© Jorie Graham

All this was written on the next day's list.
On which the busyness unfurled its cursive roots,
pale but effective,
and the long stem of the necessary, the sum of events,

Auschwitz Rose

© Michael Burch

On Auschwitz now the reddening sunset settles;
they sleep alike--diminutive and tall,
the innocent, the "surgeons."
Sleeping, all.

To Flower

© Michael Burch

We are not long for this earth, I know
you and I, all our petals incurled,
till a night of pale brilliance, moonflower aglow.
Is there love anywhere in this strange world?

Will There Be Starlight

© Michael Burch

Will there be starlight
tonight
while she gathers
damask
and lilac
and sweet-scented heathers?

A Song of a Girl from Loyang

© Wang Wei

There's a girl from Loyang in the door across the street,
She looks fifteen, she may be a little older.
...While her master rides his rapid horse with jade bit an bridle,
Her handmaid brings her cod-fish in a golden plate.

A Song of Peach-Blossom River

© Wang Wei

A fisherman is drifting, enjoying the spring mountains,
And the peach-trees on both banks lead him to an ancient source.
Watching the fresh-coloured trees, he never thinks of distance
Till he comes to the end of the blue stream and suddenly- strange men!

Destiny

© Gregory Corso

They deliver the edicts of Godwithout delayAnd are exempt from apprehensionfrom detentionAnd with their God-givenPetasus, Caduceus, and Talariaferry like bolts of lightningunhindered between the tribunalsof Space & Time
The Messenger-Spiritin human fleshis assigned a dependable,self-reliant, versatile,thoroughly poet existenceupon its sojourn in life
It does not knockor ring the bellor telephoneWhen the Messenger-Spiritcomes to your doorthough lockedIt'll enter like an electric midwifeand deliver the message
There is no tellthroughout the agesthat a Messenger-Spiritever stumbled into darkness

The Two Sayings

© Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Two savings of the Holy Scriptures beat
Like pulses in the Church's brow and breast;
And by them we find rest in our unrest
And, heart deep in salt-tears, do yet entreat

The Meaning Of The Look

© Elizabeth Barrett Browning

I think that look of Christ might seem to say--
'Thou Peter ! art thou then a common stone
Which I at last must break my heart upon
For all God's charge to his high angels may

Aurora Leigh (excerpts)

© Elizabeth Barrett Browning

[Book 1]
I am like,
They tell me, my dear father. Broader brows
Howbeit, upon a slenderer undergrowth

The Look

© Elizabeth Barrett Browning

The Saviour looked on Peter. Ay, no word,
No gesture of reproach; the Heavens serene
Though heavy with armed justice, did not lean
Their thunders that way: the forsaken Lord

The Task: Book V, The Winter Morning Walk (excerpts)

© William Cowper

'Tis morning; and the sun, with ruddy orb
Ascending, fires th' horizon: while the clouds,
That crowd away before the driving wind,
More ardent as the disk emerges more,

Dependence

To keep the lamp alive,
With oil we fill the bowl;
'Tis water makes the willow thrive,
And grace that feeds the soul.

Ruins of Rome, by Bellay

1 Ye heavenly spirits, whose ashy cinders lie
Under deep ruins, with huge walls opprest,
But not your praise, the which shall never die
Through your fair verses, ne in ashes rest;

The Rhodora

On being asked, Whence is the flower?In May, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes,
I found the fresh Rhodora in the woods,
Spreading its leafless blooms in a damp nook,
To please the desert and the sluggish brook.

The Problem

And on my heart monastic aisles
Fall like sweet strains or pensive smiles;
Yet not for all his faith can see,
Would I that cowled churchman be.
Why should the vest on him allure,
Which I could not on me endure?