All Poems
/ page 2988 of 3210 /Walking The Marshland
© Stephen Dunn
It was no place for the faithless,
so I felt a little odd
walking the marshland with my daughters,
Slant
© Stephen Dunn
The trees, now, are trees
I'm seeing myself seeing.
I'll always deny that I kissed her.
I was just whispering into her mouth.
The Sudden Light And The Trees
© Stephen Dunn
My neighbor was a biker, a pusher, a dog
and wife beater.
In bad dreams I killed him
Essay On The Personal
© Stephen Dunn
Because finally the personal
is all that matters,
we spend years describing stones,
chairs, abandoned farmhouses—
Named
© Stephen Dunn
He'd spent his life trying to control the names
people gave him;
oh the unfair and the accurate equally hurt.
With No Experience In Such Matters
© Stephen Dunn
To hold a damaged sparrow
under water until you feel it die
is to know a small something
about the mind; how, for example,
it blames the cat for the original crime,
how it wants praise for its better side.
At The Smithville Methodist Church
© Stephen Dunn
It was supposed to be Arts & Crafts for a week,
but when she came home
with the "Jesus Saves" button, we knew what art
was up, what ancient craft.
Biography In The First Person
© Stephen Dunn
This is not the way I am.
Really, I am much taller in person,
the hairline I conceal reaches back
to my grandfather, and the shyness my wife
Story
© Stephen Dunn
Praise the odd, serendipitous world.
Nothing I'd be inclined to think of
would have stopped that dog.
Only the facts saved her.
Welcome
© Stephen Dunn
if you believe nothing is always what's left
after a while, as I did,
If you believe you have this collection
of ungiven gifts, as I do (right here
The Routine Things Around The House
© Stephen Dunn
When Mother died
I thought: now I'll have a death poem.
That was unforgivable.
Allegory Of The Cave
© Stephen Dunn
He climbed toward the blinding light
and when his eyes adjusted
he looked down and could see
I Come Home Wanting To Touch Everyone
© Stephen Dunn
The dogs greet me, I descend
into their world of fur and tongues
and then my wife and I embrace
as if we'd just closed the door
Poem For People That Are Understandably Too Busy To Read Poetry
© Stephen Dunn
Imagine yourself a caterpillar.
There's an awful shrug and, suddenly,
You're beautiful for as long as you live.
Like Barley Bending
© Sara Teasdale
Like barley bending
In low fields by the sea,
Singing in hard wind
Ceaselessly;
Blue Squills
© Sara Teasdale
How many million Aprils came
Before I ever knew
How white a cherry bough could be,
A bed of squills, how blue!
On A March Day
© Sara Teasdale
Here in the teeth of this triumphant wind
That shakes the naked shadows on the ground,
Making a key-board of the earth to strike
From clattering tree and hedge a separate sound,
Guenevere
© Sara Teasdale
I was a queen, and I have lost my crown;
A wife, and I have broken all my vows;
A lover, and I ruined him I loved: --
There is no other havoc left to do.
To E.
© Sara Teasdale
But all remembered beauty is no more
Than a vague prelude to the thought of you --
You are the rarest soul I ever knew,
Lover of beauty, knightliest and best;
My thoughts seek you as waves that seek the shore,
And when I think of you, I am at rest.
Debt
© Sara Teasdale
What do I owe to you
Who loved me deep and long?
You never gave my spirit wings
Or gave my heart a song.