All Poems

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Cows

© Paul Muldoon

Even as we speak, there's a smoker's cough
from behind the whitethorn hedge: we stop dead in our tracks;
a distant tingle of water into a trough.

Swan Song

© Gerald Stern

A bunch of old snakeheads down by the pond
carrying on the swan tradition -- hissing
inside their white bodies, raising and lowering their heads
like ostriches, regretting only the sad ritual

The Dog

© Gerald Stern

What I was doing with my white teeth exposed
like that on the side of the road I don't know,
and I don't know why I lay beside the sewer
so that the lover of dead things could come back

I Remember Galileo

© Gerald Stern

I remember Galileo describing the mind
as a piece of paper blown around by the wind,
and I loved the sight of it sticking to a tree,
or jumping into the backseat of a car,

The Young Fools (Les Ingénus)

© Paul Verlaine

High-heels were struggling with a full-length dress
So that, between the wind and the terrain,
At times a shining stocking would be seen,
And gone too soon. We liked that foolishness.

The Bagel

© David Ignatow

I stopped to pick up the bagel
rolling away in the wind,
annoyed with myself
for having dropped it

For My Daughter

© David Ignatow

When I die
choose a star and name it
after me so that I may shine
down on you, until you join
me in darkness and silence
together.

Days

© Robert William Service

I am a Day . . .
My sky is grey,
My wind is wild,
My sea high-piled:

Clemenceau

© Robert William Service

His frown brought terror to his foes,
But now in twilight of his days
The pure perfection of a rose
Can kindle rapture in his gaze.

Pedlar

© Robert William Service

Pedlar's coming down the street,
Housewives beat a swift retreat.
Don't you answer to the bell;
Heedless what she has to sell.

The Man From Cook's

© Robert William Service

"You're bloody right - I was a Red,"
The Man from Cook's morosely said.
And if our chaps had won the War
Today I'd be the Governor
Of all Madrid, and rule with pride,
Instead of just a lousy guide.

Mazie's Ghost

© Robert William Service

In London City I evade
For charming Burlington Arcade -
For thee in youth I met a maid
By name of Mazie,

Tourists

In a strange town in a far land
They met amid a throng;
They stared, they could not understand
How life was sudden song.

Tramp, tramp, the grim road, the road from Mons to Wipers
(I've 'ammered out this ditty with me bruised and bleedin' feet);
Tramp, tramp, the dim road -- we didn't 'ave no pipers,
And bellies that was 'oller was the drums we 'ad to beat.

Roulette

I'll wait until my money's gone
Before I take the sleeping pills;
Then when they find me in the dawn,
Remote from earthly ails and ills
They'll say: "She's broke, the foreign bitch!"
And dump me in the common ditch.

The Great Recall

I've wearied of so many things
Adored in youthful days;
Music no more my spirit wings,
E'en when Master play.

The Atavist

What are you doing here, Tom Thorne, on the white top-knot o' the world,
Where the wind has the cut of a naked knife and the stars are rapier keen?
Hugging a smudgy willow fire, deep in a lynx robe curled,
You that's a lord's own son, Tom Thorne -- what does your madness mean?