All Poems

/ page 2974 of 3210 /

Order by :

For Sharon HorvathFrom the shadow of domes in the city of domes,
A snowflake, a blizzard of one, weightless, entered your room
And made its way to the arm of the chair where you, looking up
From your book, saw it the moment it landed.

Courtship

© Mark Strand

There is a girl you like so you tell her
your penis is big, but that you cannot get yourself
to use it. Its demands are ridiculous, you say,
even self-defeating, but to be honored, somehow,
briefly, inconspicuously in the dark.

Lines For Winter

© Mark Strand

Tell yourself
as it gets cold and gray falls from the air
that you will go on
walking, hearing

Giving Myself Up

© Mark Strand

I give up my eyes which are glass eggs.
I give up my tongue.
I give up my mouth which is the contstant dream of my tongue.
I give up my throat which is the sleeve of my voice.

The Story Of Our Lives

© Mark Strand

1
We are reading the story of our lives
which takes place in a room.
The room looks out on a street.

Keeping Things Whole

© Mark Strand

When I walk
I part the air
and always
the air moves in
to fill the spaces
where my body's been.

Eating Poetry

© Mark Strand

Ink runs from the corners of my mouth.
There is no happiness like mine.
I have been eating poetry.

The New Poetry Handbook

© Mark Strand

21 If a man finishes a poem,
he shall bathe in the blank wake of his passion
and be kissed by white paper.

The Premier and the Socialist

© Andrew Barton Paterson

"If we should try to raise some cash
On assets of our own,
Do you suppose," the Premier said,
"That we could float a loan?"
"I doubt it," said the Socialist,
And groaned a doleful groan.

The Quest Eternal

© Andrew Barton Paterson

In the march of the boys through Palestine when the noontide fervour glowed,
Over the desert in thirsty line our sunburnt squadrons rode.
They looked at the desert lone and drear, stone ridges and stunted scrub,
And said, "We should have had Ginger here, I bet he'd have found a pub!"

The Pannikin Poet

© Andrew Barton Paterson

There's nothing here sublime,
But just a roving rhyme,
Run off to pass the time,
With nought titanic in.

What Have the Cavalry Done?

© Andrew Barton Paterson

What have the cavalry done?
Cantered and trotted about,
Routin' the enemy out,
Causin' the beggars to run!

That V.C.

© Andrew Barton Paterson

He lay as flat as any fish;
His nose had worn a little furrow;
He only had one frantic wish,
That like an ant-bear he could burrow.

The Rhyme of the O'Sullivan

© Andrew Barton Paterson

"For many years I led
The people's onward march;
I was the 'Fountain Head',
The 'Democratic Arch'.

The Old Timer's Steeplechase

There was never a fence the tracks to guard, --
Some straggling posts defined 'em:
And the day was hot, and the drinking hard,
Till none of the stewards could see a yard
Before nor yet behind 'em!

The Two Devines

'Twas a wether flock that had come to hand,
Great struggling brutes, that shearers shirk,
For the fleece was filled with the grass and sand,
And seventy sheep was a big day's work.
"At a pound a hundred it's dashed hard lines
To shear such sheep," said the two Devines.

The Lay of the Motor-Car

We're away! and the wind whistles shrewd
In our whiskers and teeth;
And the granite-like grey of the road
Seems to slide underneath.

The Gundaroo Bullock

There came a low informer to the Grabben Gullen side,
And he said to Smith the squatter, "You must saddle up and ride,
For your bullock's in the harness-cask of Morgan Donahoo --
He's the greatest cattle-stealer in the whole of Gundaroo."

The Reverend Mullineux

I'd reckon his weight as eight-stun-eight,
And his height as five-foot-two,
With a face as plain as an eight-day clock
And a walk as brisk as a bantam-cock --

The Federal Bus Conductor and the Old Lady

Now, don't go trudgin' on alone, but get aboard the trap;
That basket, labelled "Capital", you take it in your lap!
It's nearly time we made a start, so let's 'ave no more talk:
You 'urry up and get aboard, or else stop out and walk.
We've got a flag; we've got a band; out 'orses travels fast;
Ho! Right away, Bill! Let 'em go! The old 'un's come at last!