Poems begining by B
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Burial
© Fairbridge Kingsley
Among the Manyika, a dead infant is buried by its Mother without a ceremony.
Ben Bolt
© English Thomas Dunn
Don't you remember sweet Alice, Ben Bolt -- Sweet Alice whose hair was so brown,Who wept with delight when you gave her a smile, And trembled with fear at your frown?In the old church-yard in the valley, Ben Bolt, In a corner obscure and alone,They have fitted a slab of the granite so grey, And Alice lies under the stone
Beyond
© Dolben Digby (Mackworth)
Beyond the calumny and wrong,Beyond the clamour and the throng,Beyond the praise and triumph-song, He passed
Brain Litany: Or, Overlooking the Existential Factor
© Pier Giorgio Di Cicco
"Can it be that any man has the skill to fabricate himself?" -- St. Augustine
Balade
© Eustache Deschamps
Renart jadis, que grant faim destraignoit,Pour proie avoir chaçoit par le boscage,Tant qu'en tracent dessur un arbre voitUn grant corbaut qui tenoit un frommage
Blues for X
© Clarke George Elliott
Pretty boy, towel your tears,And robe yourself in black.Pretty boy, dry your tears,You know I'm comin' back.I'm your lavish loverAnd I'm slavish in the sack.
Ballad of a Hanged Man
© Clarke George Elliott
Geo: Their drinks to my drinks feels different,I'll stomach a stammering teaspoon full,but Roach laps up half the half bottle.He slups glass for glass with the best.
Birch
© Christakos Margaret
Bitter the word. Bitter, meadow I am walking in.Bitter breeze filters through birch foliage.Each leaf flinches. Cherish me todayFor I am a vetch crisp & uncorrected.
Boat beneath a Sunny Sky, A
© Lewis Carroll
A BOAT beneath a sunny sky,Lingering onward dreamilyIn an evening of July --
Black on the depths of blackest skies
© Christopher John Brennan
Black on the depths of blackest skieswhence even the levin seems withdrawn,the cities threaten: burning eyesask what dread hand hath slain the dawn.
Birefringence
© Bök Christian
See in silk-screened kimonosblowtorch scars on metal,wings of iridescentinsects,the aurora borealis.
Birth
© Blodgett E. D.
When tears come, they do not come as water in the eyes, they comeas children you have lost, beautiful faces of tears falling pastinto lives that you shall never know
Brazil, January 1, 1502
© Elizabeth Bishop
Januaries, nature greets our eyesexactly as she must have greeted theirs:every square inch filling in with foliage--big leaves, little leaves, and giant leaves,blue, blue-green, and olive,with occasional lighter veins and edges,or a satin underleaf turned over;monster fernsin silver-gray relief,and flowers, too, like giant water liliesup in the air--up, rather, in the leaves--purple, yellow, two yellows, pink,rust red and greenish white;solid but airy; fresh as if just finishedand taken off the frame
Bug o' Night
© Benson Mary Josephine
Ghost of Icarus, rise and seeThis boast of Old Mortality,Called "Bug-O'-Night" by men that rideIn winged, sharded, whirring pride.On fateful mission high intent--Invaders of the firmament.
Bede's Death Song
© Bede The Venerable
Fore there neidfaerae naenig uuiurthitthoncsnotturra than him tharf sieto ymbhycggannae aer his hiniongaehuaet his gastae godaes aeththa yflaesaefter deothdaege doemid uueorthae.
