Poems begining by A
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At Mass
© Roald Dahl
No doubt to-morrow I will hide
My face from you, my King.
Let me rejoice this Sunday noon,
And kneel while gray priests sing.
“A kiss on the forehead”
© Marina Tsvetaeva
A kiss on the forehead—erases misery.
I kiss your forehead.
At the Movie: Virginia, 1956
© Ellen Bryant Voigt
This is how it was:
they had their own churches, their own schools,
A Marriage Poem
© Ellen Bryant Voigt
What does it mean when a woman says,
“my husband,”
if she sits all day in the tub;
if she worries her life like a dog a rat;
if her husband seems familiar but abstract,
a bandaged hand she’s forgotten how to use.
Arise, Go Down
© Li-Young Lee
It wasn’t the bright hems of the Lord’s skirts
that brushed my face and I opened my eyes
to see from a cleft in rock His backside;
Amoretti LXII: "The weary yeare his race now having run"
© Edmund Spenser
The weary yeare his race now having run,
The new begins his compast course anew:
After Tonight
© Gary Soto
You expect your daughter
To be at the door any moment
And your husband to arrive
With the night
That is suddenly all around.
You expect the stove to burst
A Little Called Pauline
© Gertrude Stein
A little called anything shows shudders.
Come and say what prints all day. A whole few watermelon. There is no pope.
No cut in pennies and little dressing and choose wide soles and little spats really little spices.
A little lace makes boils. This is not true.
A Complaint
© André Breton
There is a change—and I am poor;
Your love hath been, nor long ago,
A fountain at my fond heart's door,
Whose only business was to flow;
And flow it did; not taking heed
Of its own bounty, or my need.
A Roundelay between Two Shepherds
© Michael Drayton
1 Shep. Tell me, thou gentle shepherd swain,
Whos yonder in the vale is set?
2 Shep. Oh, it is she, whose sweets do stain
The lily, rose, the violet!
After Disappointment
© Mark Jarman
To lie in your child’s bed when she is gone
Is calming as anything I know. To fall
Affairs
© Cesare Pavese
Dawn on the black hill, and up on the roof
cats drowsing. Last night, there was a boy
Aliens
© Amy Lowell
The chatter of little people
Breaks on my purpose
Like the water-drops which slowly wear the rocks to powder.
And while I laugh
My spirit crumbles at their teasing touch.
A Lesson in Geography
© Kenneth Rexroth
In the Japanese quarter
A phonograph playing
“Moonlight on ruined castles”
Kojo n'suki
A Dirge
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
Why were you born when the snow was falling?
You should have come to the cuckoos calling,
Or when grapes are green in the cluster,
Or, at least, when lithe swallows muster
For their far off flying
From summer dying.
A Poem on the Assassination of Robert F. Kennedy
© Nikki Giovanni
Trees are never felled . . . in summer . . . Not when the fruit . . .
is yet to be borne . . . Never before the promise . . . is fulfilled . . .
Not when their cooling shade . . . has yet to comfort . . .
