All Poems

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The Village Blacksmith

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Under a spreading chestnut-tree
The village smithy stands;
The smith, a mighty man is he,
With large and sinewy hands;
And the muscles of his brawny arms
Are strong as iron bands.

An Evening Thought: Salvation by Christ, with Penetential Cries

© Jupiter Hammon

Salvation comes by Christ alone,
The only Son of God;
Redemption now to every one,
That love his holy Word.

Crispy chimes of Autumn, spread out upon natures floor.
The falling greens of spring and summer, now taking on a brown like decor.
Bare bodies stand naked, their bones clanging in the wind.
Hoping to soon be reclothed, by winters cool new offerings.

Message Of Love

© Robert M. Hensel

Unveil onto me, the true message of the heart.
Fill me with it's knowledge, so I may learn the art.
Supply me with the needed tools, to create a lasting love.
One, that not even Cupid and his arrow has ever heard of.

Nights Reflect

© Robert M. Hensel

Shadow puppets on the wall.
Dark carbon copies of what a furnished room bares.
Into a black covered mirror, my world reflects.
Showing me things, only the night has to offer.

Peaceful Ground

© Robert M. Hensel

Cool Morning spit on bladed grass.
A Thousand silky fingers tickling toes.
The strong scent of natures freshly cut hair.
Mans spiritual stamping groung toward inner
peace.

Beyond Limitations

© Robert M. Hensel

Placing one foot in front of the other, I've climbed to higher lenghts

The Poet

© Robert M. Hensel

Words flow onto paper like rain , forming giant rivers
of unseen lands.
The very force guides us along a journey
that holds of great adventure.

Peace Of Mind

© Robert M. Hensel

Carry me out the ocean, where
my drifting thoughts flow free.
Guide them to a far distant land,
that only the mind can see.

End Racism

© Robert M. Hensel

We all must bring our Racism
to end.
A message to all, I long to send.
The colors of the world, all join as

Hold Hard, These Ancient Minutes In The Cuckoo's Month

© Dylan Thomas

Hold hard, these ancient minutes in the cuckoo's month,
Under the lank, fourth folly on Glamorgan's hill,
As the green blooms ride upward, to the drive of time;
Time, in a folly's rider, like a county man
Over the vault of ridings with his hound at heel,
Drives forth my men, my children, from the hanging south.

Then Was My Neophyte

© Dylan Thomas

Then was my neophyte,
Child in white blood bent on its knees
Under the bell of rocks,
Ducked in the twelve, disciple seas

On No Work Of Words

© Dylan Thomas

On no work of words now for three lean months in the
bloody
Belly of the rich year and the big purse of my body
I bitterly take to task my poverty and craft:

The Seed-At-Zero

© Dylan Thomas

The seed-at-zero shall not storm
That town of ghosts, the trodden womb,
With her rampart to his tapping,
No god-in-hero tumble down

When Once The Twilight Locks No Longer

© Dylan Thomas

When once the twilight locks no longer
Locked in the long worm of my finger
Nor damned the sea that sped about my fist,
The mouth of time sucked, like a sponge,
The milky acid on each hinge,
And swallowed dry the waters of the breast.

Our Eunuch Dreams

© Dylan Thomas

Our eunuch dreams, all seedless in the light,
Of light and love the tempers of the heart,
Whack their boys' limbs,
And, winding-footed in their shawl and sheet,
Groom the dark brides, the widows of the night
Fold in their arms.

Author's Prologue

© Dylan Thomas

This day winding down now
At God speeded summer's end
In the torrent salmon sun,
In my seashaken house

When, Like A Running Grave

© Dylan Thomas

When, like a running grave, time tracks you down,
Your calm and cuddled is a scythe of hairs,
Love in her gear is slowly through the house,
Up naked stairs, a turtle in a hearse,
Hauled to the dome,

I, In My Intricate Image

© Dylan Thomas

I, in my intricate image, stride on two levels,
Forged in man's minerals, the brassy orator
Laying my ghost in metal,
The scales of this twin world tread on the double,
My half ghost in armour hold hard in death's corridor,
To my man-iron sidle.

There Was A Saviour

© Dylan Thomas

There was a saviour
Rarer than radium,
Commoner than water, crueller than truth;
Children kept from the sun