Art poems

 / page 75 of 137 /
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Prodigal

© Richard Jones

You could drive out of this country

and attack the world with your ambition,

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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;

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Ellen West

© Frank Bidart

I love sweets,—
  heaven
would be dying on a bed of vanilla ice cream ...
But my true self 

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The Geranium

© Roger McGough

In the close covert of a grove


By nature formed for scenes of love,

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The Sundays of Satin-Legs Smith

© Gwendolyn Brooks

He wakes, unwinds, elaborately: a cat 
Tawny, reluctant, royal. He is fat
And fine this morning. Definite. Reimbursed.

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The Artist

© Amy Lowell

Why do you subdue yourself in golds and purples? 

Why do you dim yourself with folded silks?

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Canto LXXXI

© Ezra Pound

Zeus lies in Ceres’ bosom

Taishan is attended of loves

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The House-top

© Arvind Krishna Mehrotra

A Night Piece  
(July, 1863)

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The Cab Driver Who Ripped Me Off

© Cornelius Eady

That’s right, said the cab driver,

Turning the corner to the 

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Contents Page

© Stephen Edgar

The jungle, from the floor to the canopy,

Clogs and entwines

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Parable of the Swans

© Louise Gluck

On a small lake off

the map of the world, two

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Hotel François 1er

© Gertrude Stein

It was a very little while and they had gone in front of it. It was that they had liked it would it bear. It was a very much adjoined a follower. Flower of an adding where a follower.
  Have I come in. Will in suggestion.
  They may like hours in catching.
  It is always a pleasure to remember.

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A Little Language

© Robert Duncan

I know a little language of my cat, though Dante says 
that animals have no need of speech and Nature 
abhors the superfluous. My cat is fluent. He 
converses when he wants with me. To speak

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Afterword

© Louise Gluck

Reading what I have just written, I now believe
I stopped precipitously, so that my story seems to have been
slightly distorted, ending, as it did, not abruptly
but in a kind of artificial mist of the sort
sprayed onto stages to allow for difficult set changes.

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from The Task, Book I: The Sofa

© William Cowper

(excerpt)


Thou know’st my praise of nature most sincere,

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Funeral Music

© Geoffrey Hill

William de la Pole, Duke of Suffolk: beheaded 1450
John Tiptoft, Earl of Worcester: beheaded 1470
Anthony Woodville, Earl Rivers: beheaded 1483

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Merry-No-Round

© Bill Knott

The wooden horses


are tired of their courses

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Sounds of the Resurrected Dead Man’s Footsteps #17

© Marvin Bell

1. At the Walking Dunes, Eastern Long Island


That a bent piece of straw made a circle in the sand. 

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Cabin

© Anne Waldman

eviction people arrive to haunt me
 with descriptions of summer’s wildflowers 
 how they are carpet of fierce colors