All Poems

/ page 2633 of 3210 /

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My Fathers, The Baltic

© Philip Levine

Along the strand stones,
busted shells, wood scraps,
bottle tops, dimpled
and stainless beer cans.

I Sing The Body Electric

© Philip Levine

People sit numbly at the counter
waiting for breakfast or service.
Today it's Hartford, Connecticut
more than twenty-five years after

Songs

© Philip Levine

Dawn coming in over the fields
of darkness takes me by surprise
and I look up from my solitary road
pleased not to be alone, the birds

Bitterness

© Philip Levine

Here in February, the fine
dark branches of the almond
begin to sprout tiny clusters
of leaves, sticky to the touch.

The Mercy

© Philip Levine

The ship that took my mother to Ellis Island
Eighty-three years ago was named "The Mercy."
She remembers trying to eat a banana
without first peeling it and seeing her first orange

Night Thoughts Over A Sick Child

© Philip Levine

Numb, stiff, broken by no sleep,
I keep night watch. Looking for
signs to quiet fear, I creep
closer to his bed and hear

The Present

© Philip Levine

The day comes slowly in the railyard
behind the ice factory. It broods on
one cinder after another until each
glows like lead or the eye of a dog

The End Of Your Life

© Philip Levine

First light. This misted field
is the world, that man
slipping the greased bolt

Clouds Above The Sea

© Philip Levine

My father and mother, two tiny figures,
side by side, facing the clouds that move
in from the Atlantic. August, '33.
The whole weight of the rain to come, the weight

In The New Sun

© Philip Levine

A row of sparkling carp
iced in the new sun, odor
of first love, of childhood,
the fingers held to the nose,
or hours while the clock hummed.

Call It Music

© Philip Levine

Some days I catch a rhythm, almost a song
in my own breath. I'm alone here
in Brooklyn Heights, late morning, the sky
above the St. George Hotel clear, clear

Last Words

© Philip Levine

If the shoe fell from the other foot
who would hear? If the door
opened onto a pure darkness
and it was no dream? If your life

Limerick: There was a Young Lady of Niger

© William Cosmo Monkhouse

There was a young lady of Niger
Who smiled as she rode on a tiger;
They returned from the ride
With the lady inside,
And the smile on the face of the tiger.

Coming Close

© Philip Levine

Take this quiet woman, she has been
standing before a polishing wheel
for over three hours, and she lacks
twenty minutes before she can take

Those Were The Days

The sun came up before breakfast,
perfectly round and yellow, and we
dressed in the soft light and shook out
our long blond curls and waited

Heaven

If you were twenty-seven
and had done time for beating
our ex-wife and had
no dreams you remembered

Clouds

Dawn. First light tearing
at the rough tongues of the zinnias,
at the leaves of the just born.

Holding On

Green fingers
holding the hillside,
mustard whipping in
the sea winds, one blood-bright

Gin

The first time I drank gin
I thought it must be hair tonic.
My brother swiped the bottle
from a guy whose father owned

On The Murder Of Lieutenant Jose Del Castillo By The Falangist Bravo Martinez, July 12, 1936

When the Lieutenant of the Guardia de Asalto
heard the automatic go off, he turned
and took the second shot just above
the sternum, the third tore away