Poems begining by A
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a 340 dollar horse and a hundred dollar whore
© Charles Bukowski
but still she looked good to me, she still looked good,
and all thanks to an ugly horse
who wrote this poem.
A Noiseless Patient Spider
© Walt Whitman
A noiseless patient spider,
I mark’d where on a little promontory it stood isolated,
Mark’d how to explore the vacant vast surrounding,
It launch’d forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself,
Ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly speeding them.
At the Grave of My Guardian Angel: St. Louis Cemetery, New Orleans
© Larry Levis
I should rush out to my office & eat a small, freckled apple leftover
From 1970 & entirely wizened & rotted by sunlight now,
Then lay my head on my desk & dream again of horses grazing, riderless & still saddled,
Under the smog of the freeway cloverleaf & within earshot of the music waltzing with itself out
Of the topless bars & laundromats of East L.A.
A Celebration of Charis: IV. Her Triumph
© Benjamin Jonson
See the chariot at hand here of Love,
Wherein my lady rideth!
A Crown of Autumn Leaves
© Annie Finch
For Mabon (fall equinox), Sept. 21
Our voices press
from us
and twine
around the year's
fermenting wine
Advice to a Prophet
© Lola Ridge
When you come, as you soon must, to the streets of our city,
Mad-eyed from stating the obvious,
Not proclaiming our fall but begging us
In God’s name to have self-pity,
A Muse of Water
© John Betjeman
We who must act as handmaidens
To our own goddess, turn too fast,
Trip on our hems, to glimpse the muse
Gliding below her lake or sea,
Are left, long-staring after her,
Narcissists by necessity;
After Midnight
© Louis Simpson
The dark streets are deserted,
With only a drugstore glowing
Softly, like a sleeping body;
A Winter Song
© Jean Ingelow
Came the dread Archer up yonder lawn —
Night is the time for the old to die —
But woe for an arrow that smote the fawn,
When the hind that was sick unscathed went by.
Amoretti VIII: More then most faire, full of the living fire
© Edmund Spenser
More then most faire, full of the living fire,
Kindled above unto the maker neere:
Anniversary
© Cecilia Woloch
Didn’t I stand there once,
white-knuckled, gripping the just-lit taper,
A Prayer for My Daughter
© William Butler Yeats
Once more the storm is howling, and half hid
Under this cradle-hood and coverlid
A Song
© Helen Maria Williams
No riches from his scanty store
My lover could impart;
He gave a boon I valued more
He gave me all his heart!
As Children Know
© James Russell Lowell
Elm branches radiate green heat,
blackbirds stiffly strut across fields.
A Song from the Italian from Limberham: or, the Kind Keeper
© John Dryden
By a dismal cypress lying,
Damon cried, all pale and dying,
