All Poems

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3210

Non Nobis, Domine

© Cust Henry

Not unto us, O Lord,Not unto us the rapture of the day,The peace of night, or love's divine surprise,High heart, high speech, high deeds, 'mid honouring eyesFor at Thy wordAll these are taken away.

The Touch

© Currin Jen

I want to hear the slapof your shadowas it hits the floor,the pins and needlesof water fallingtap to tub. I'm tired,and what you knowabout me will soon be writtenon a postcard and passedin the night.

Heard

© Currin Jen

Genius is the word for I've lost the joband my heart is breakfast.

The Elephant Lady's Drawings

© Currin Jen

We came out of the gardenand there were brides in the trees.You faked a birdsong.I had something to say to your motherbut the ancestors are as inconsiderateas they are deaf.

A Bat Unveiled

© Currin Jen

In the museum of land mines,my acquaintance fans her wings.Outside the sparrows catch fire.A tree falls to its knees.I become the sudden murderer,unable to recognize the radishesof my hands.

Upon the tinkling splintery battlementsWhich swing and tumble south in ghostly whiteBehemoth rushes blindly from the night,Behemoth whom we have praised on instrumentsDulcet and shrill and impudent with vents:Behemoth whose huge body was our delightAnd miracle, wallows where there is no light,Shattered and crumpled and torn with pitiful rents

The "Student"

© Crosland Thomas William Hodgson

A minx of seventeen, with rather fineBrown eyes and freckles and a cheerful grin,She saunters up the ward, and stricken sinNods and looks pleasant (why should one repine?)

Slain

© Crosland Thomas William Hodgson

Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori

The Rhyme of the Beast

© Crosland Thomas William Hodgson

Lo, the Beast that rioteth, Sick with hate and coveting --To the sons of men he saith, I will show you a new thing.

Recipe

© Crosland Thomas William Hodgson

CHIDDEN still murmurs,SLAPPED and RAPPED complain,HURT, with a thousand tongues,Whines out his pain.

Marching On

© Crosland Thomas William Hodgson

I heard the young lads singing In the still morning air,Gaily the notes came ringing Across the lilac'd square;They sang like happy children Who know not doubt or care, "As WE GO MARCHING ON."

Killed

© Crosland Thomas William Hodgson

Lieutenant Keen was "great," and yetHe would look over the parapet;And something smacked him in the head,And he lay down as dead as dead.

The Good Conceit

[After W. E. Henley]

The Eagle

They have him in a cageAnd little children runTo offer him well-meant bits of bun,And very common people say, "My word!Ain't he a 'orrible bird!"And the smart, "How absurd!Poor, captive, draggled, downcast lord of the air!"

Steadfast in his despair,He doth not rage;But with unconquerable eyeAnd soul aflame to fly,Considereth the sun

Charing Cross

At five o'clock they ring a tinkly bell;The April dawn glimmers along the beds,There is a lifting up of weary headsFrom weary pillows

The Baby in the Ward

We were all sore and broken and keen on sleep,Tumours and hearts and dropsies, there we lay,Weary of night and wearier of day,With no more health in us than rotten sheep

Antarctic

What tale is this which stirs a world of knavesOut of its grubbing to throw greasy penceForth to the hat, and choke with eloquenceIn boastful prose and verse of doubtful staves?Four men have died, gentlemen, heroes, braves;Snows wrap them round eternally