All Poems
/ page 48 of 3210 /The Old Man's Complaints. And how he gained them
© Robert Southey
You are old, Father William, the young man cried, The few locks which are left you are grey;You are hale, Father William, a hearty old man, Now tell me the reason I pray.
'Twas the Second Day before Christmas
© Souster Raymond
While they last all manger accessoriesmarked drastically down --
To the Canadian Poets, 1940
© Souster Raymond
Come, my little eunuchs, my tender virgins,it's high time you were home and in bed.The wind's cold and strong in the streets now,and it's almost ten o'clock.
Short Short Song
© Souster Raymond
When Susi smiles I'm happy,when Susi's sad I'm sad.So as long as we're togetherlet the whole world go mad!
Riding the Thundering Horse
© Souster Raymond
To be told in print at age sixty-threethat you're not a poetbecause what you write aren't poems,isn't the help it might have beenat, say, twenty-three
Queen Anne's Lace
© Souster Raymond
It's a kind of flowerthat if you didn't know ityou'd pass by the rest of your life.
November 24, 1992
© Souster Raymond
November squatson the ruins of the yearready to shit out winter.
Gwen
© Souster Raymond
At the poetry readingin Croft House, she wrote downher phone-number on a piece of paper,said, give me a call some time.
Four Girls at the Corner
© Souster Raymond
Waiting for a fixfour girls at the corner,three about eighteen,the fourth not morethan thirteen, I swear,Not one day more.
Here Lies Poor Nick
© Smith Sydney
Here lies poor Nick, an honest creature,Of faithful, gentle, courteous nature;A parlour pet unspoil'd by favour,A pattern of good dog behaviour
Answer to an Invitation to Dine at Fishmongers Hall
© Smith Sydney
Much do I love, at civic treat,The monsters of the deep to eat;To see the rosy salmon lying,By smelts encircled, born for frying;And from the china boat to pour,On flaky cod, the flavour'd shower