Poetry poems
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O, We Are The Outcasts
© Charles Bukowski
ah, christ, what a CREW:
more
poetry, always more
P O E T R Y .
The Worst And The Best
© Charles Bukowski
in the hospitals and jails
it's the worst
in madhouses
it's the worst
Short Order
© Charles Bukowski
I took my girlfriend to your last poetry reading,
she said.
yes, yes? I asked.
she's young and pretty, she said.
To The Whore Who Took My Poems
© Charles Bukowski
some say we should keep personal remorse from the
poem,
stay abstract, and there is some reason in this,
but jezus;
At a Poetry Party I Am Given the Rhyme Chih
© Li Ching Chao
Although I've studied poetry for thirty years
I try to keep my mouth shut and avoid reputation.
Now who is this nosy gentleman talking about my poetry
Like Yang Ching-chih
Who spoke of Hsiang Ssu everywhere he went.
A Song of Departure
© Li Ching Chao
Warm rain and soft breeze by turns
Have just broken
And driven away the chill.
Moist as the pussy willows,
A Friend Sends Her Perfumed Carriage
© Li Ching Chao
A friend sends her perfumed carriage
And high-bred horses to fetch me.
I decline the invitation of
My old poetry and wine companion.
Because You Asked About The Line Between Prose And Poetry
© Howard Nemerov
Sparrows were feeding in a freezing drizzle
That while you watched turned into pieces of snow
Riding a gradient invisible
From silver aslant to random, white, and slow.
Dream On
© Edward Taylor
Some people go their whole lives
without ever writing a single poem.
Extraordinary people who don't hesitate
to cut somebody's heart or skull open.
The Spirit of Poetry
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
There is a quiet spirit in these woods,
That dwells where'er the gentle south-wind blows;
Where, underneath the white-thorn, in the glade,
The wild flowers bloom, or, kissing the soft air,
A Letter To My Aunt
© Dylan Thomas
A final word: before you start
The convulsions of your art,
Remove your brains, take out your heart;
Minus these curses, you can be
A genius like David G.
V
© Tony Harrison
Next millennium you'll have to search quite hard
to find my slab behind the family dead,
butcher, publican, and baker, now me, bard
adding poetry to their beef, beer and bread.
Yesterday is History,
© Emily Dickinson
Yesterday is History,
'Tis so far away --
Yesterday is Poetry --
'Tis Philosophy --
To pile like Thunder to its close
© Emily Dickinson
To pile like Thunder to its close
Then crumble grand away
While Everything created hid
This -- would be Poetry --
There is no Frigate like a Book
© Emily Dickinson
There is no Frigate like a Book
To take us Lands away
Nor any Coursers like a Page
Of prancing Poetry --
To see the Summer Sky
© Emily Dickinson
To see the Summer Sky
Is Poetry, though never in a Book it lie --
True Poems flee --
Genius
© Mark Twain
Geniuses are people who dash of weird, wild,
incomprehensible poems with astonishing facility,
and get booming drunk and sleep in the gutter.
So Much I Gazed
© Constantine Cavafy
So much I gazed on beauty,
that my vision is replete with it.Contours of the body. Red lips. Voluptuous limbs.
Hair as if taken from greek statues;
always beautiful, even when uncombed,
Voices
© Constantine Cavafy
Ideal and beloved voices
of those who are dead, or of those
who are lost to us like the dead.
