Poems begining by A
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Admire their style
© Ivan Donn Carswell
Im reading fellow poets blogs today,
a sustaining source of entertainment;
I admire their style without exciting comment
or resorting to an unkind eye, simple though
it is to sigh about uneasy affirmation.
Ad Invasions
© Ivan Donn Carswell
Advertisements, theyve trashed the web,
somehow theyve gotten into bed
with common sense; ubiquitous
and so intense, insistent
Absorbed in familiar rhythms
© Ivan Donn Carswell
Absorbed in familiar rhythms,
carillon of senses steeped
in good vibrations, surrounded
by musical beat
A monument in words
© Ivan Donn Carswell
Perhaps they cant compete these dry and dusty counters
of the grains of sand, theres more evoked within a ball of
dimpled clay on any day a sculptor lends his hands to shape
a face; I am pleased to read the poet rather than the man
and will not place my future faith in such abstruse scatology.
© I.D. Carswell
A final journeying
© Ivan Donn Carswell
And through a pall of sadness
feel he still walks tall and talks
to us with commonsense and
passion deep to stir our souls.
A few kind words
© Ivan Donn Carswell
A few kind words, what can be bought with that?
In essence just a clique of tidy prose,
a verb, a noun, perhaps an adjectival phrase
offered in the form of venal praise
A Crystalline Awakening
© Ivan Donn Carswell
Beds of icicles protrude from tussock bare patches,
needle pointed lances thrusting skyward
as if some new sprung lawn,
awaiting the crushing blows of booted feet,
soon to wilt in the onslaught of day.
A catchy phrase
© Ivan Donn Carswell
It was called Farm Fantastic, a catchy phrase,
and potentially a days wasted sweat.
Even after the event I cant say it wasnt,
and Im kind of glad we went, for better
A True Hero
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
JAMES BRAIDWOOD: Died June 22, 1861.
NOT at the battle front,--writ of in story;
Not on the blazing wreck steering to glory;
Not while in martyr-pangs soul and flesh sever,
An excerpt from "Mass for the Day of St. Thomas Didymus"
© Denise Levertov
iiGloriaPraise the wet snow
falling early.
Praise the shadow
my neighor's chimney casts on the tile roof
A Fuedal Picture
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
WITH what a grace she passed us by just now!
Her delicate chin half raised, her cordial brow
An Invitation
© Robert Fuller Murray
Dear Ritchie, I am waiting for the signal word to fly,
And tell me that the visit which has suffered such belating
Is to be a thing of now, and no more of by-and-by.
Dear Ritchie, I am waiting.
An Embroidery
© Denise Levertov
Rose Red's hair is brown as fur
and shines in firelight as she prepares
supper of honey and apples, curds and whey,
for the bear, and leaves it ready
on the hearth-stone.
Aware
© Denise Levertov
When I found the door
I found the vine leaves
speaking among themselves in abundant
whispers.
A Tree Telling of Orpheus
© Denise Levertov
Fire he sang, that trees fear, and I, a tree, rejoiced in its flames.
New buds broke forth from me though it was full summer.
As though his lyre (now I knew its name) were both frost and fire, its chords flamed up to the crown of me.
Au Pied De Mon Lit
© Francis Jammes
Au pied de mon lit, une Vierge négresse
fut mise par ma mère. Et j'aime cette Vierge
Aquarium Fish
© Padraic Colum
MOULD-COLOURED like the leaf long fallen from
The autumn branch, he rises now, the Fish.
Autumn
© Thomas Hood
I Saw old Autumn in the misty morn
Stand shadowless like Silence, listening
To silence, for no lonely bird would sing
Into his hollow ear from woods forlorn,
"An American girl of twenty"
© Osip Emilevich Mandelstam
An American girl of twenty
Should reach Egypt,
Forgetting the advice from the Titanic,
Asleep on the bottom, gloomier than the crypt.
