All Poems
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Hamlet Off-Stage: Hambeau Heartbroke Horny
© D. C. Berry
Ophelia claims we're dead and gives me back
all my Frank Zappa and the Mothers albums.
I nearly claw out of my shell and say,
"You can't," but for a moment I've nothing
Hamlet Off-Stage: Laertes Cool
© D. C. Berry
Laertes has groupies, proof he has taste,
has cool. Wears skate-board clothes: elephant pants,
the crotch snagging his knees, tent-size tee-shirt.
He wants the play staged at a roller rink:
Warning
© Jenny Joseph
You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.
The sun has burst the sky
© Jenny Joseph
The sun has burst the sky
Because I love you
And the river its banks.
Bards of Passion and of Mirth, written on the Blank Page before Beaumont and Fletcher's Tragi-Comedy 'The Fair Maid of the Inn'
© John Keats
Bards of Passion and of Mirth,
Ye have left your souls on earth!
Ye have souls in heaven too,
Double-lived in regions new!
Lines from Endymion
© John Keats
A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loviliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Fragment of an Ode to Maia
© John Keats
MOTHER of Hermes! and still youthful Maia!
May I sing to thee
As thou wast hymned on the shores of Baiae?
Or may I woo thee
To Mrs Reynolds' Cat
© John Keats
Cat! who hast passd thy grand climacteric,
How many mice and rats hast in thy days
Destroyd? How many tit bits stolen? Gaze
With those bright languid segments green, and prick
Keen, Fitful Gusts are Whisp'ring Here and There
© John Keats
Keen, fitful gusts are whisp'ring here and there
Among the bushes half leafless, and dry;
The stars look very cold about the sky,
And I have many miles on foot to fare.
Song of the Indian Maid, from 'Endymion'
© John Keats
O SORROW!
Why dost borrow
The natural hue of health, from vermeil lips?--
To give maiden blushes
To the white rose bushes?
Or is it thy dewy hand the daisy tips?
Stanzas
© John Keats
IN a drear-nighted December,
Too happy, happy tree,
Thy branches ne'er remember
Their green felicity:
Where's the Poet?
© John Keats
Where's the Poet? show him! show him,
Muses nine! that I may know him.
'Tis the man who with a man
Is an equal, be he King,
Ode to Fanny
© John Keats
Physician Nature! Let my spirit blood!
O ease my heart of verse and let me rest;
Throw me upon thy Tripod, till the flood
Of stifling numbers ebbs from my full breast.
To Byron
© John Keats
Byron! how sweetly sad thy melody!
Attuning still the soul to tenderness,
As if soft Pity, with unusual stress,
Had touch'd her plaintive lute, and thou, being by,
Fill For Me A Brimming Bowl
© John Keats
Fill for me a brimming bowl
And in it let me drown my soul:
But put therein some drug, designed
To Banish Women from my mind:
Fancy
© John Keats
Ever let the Fancy roam,
Pleasure never is at home:
At a touch sweet Pleasure melteth,
Like to bubbles when rain pelteth;
Last Sonnet
© John Keats
BRIGHT Star, would I were steadfast as thou art--
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night,
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like Nature's patient sleepless Eremite,
His Last Sonnet
© John Keats
Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art! -
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night,
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like Nature's patient sleepless Eremite,
Give Me Women, Wine, and Snuff
© John Keats
GIVE me women, wine, and snuff
Untill I cry out "hold, enough!"
You may do so sans objection
Till the day of resurrection:
For, bless my beard, they aye shall be
My beloved Trinity.
To G.A.W.
© John Keats
Nymph of the downward smile and sidelong glance!
In what diviner moments of the day
Art thou most lovely?when gone far astray
Into the labyrinths of sweet utterance,
