Poems begining by C
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Called Into Play
© Archie Randolph Ammons
Fall fell: so that's it for the leaf poetry:
some flurries have whitened the edges of roadsand lawns: time for that, the snow stuff: &
turkeys and old St. Nick: where am I going tofind something to write about I haven't already
written away: I will have to stop short, lookdown, look up, look close, think, think, think:
Coleridge's Cristabel
© Charles Harpur
Mark yon runnel, how tis flowing,
Like a sylvan spirit dreaming
Chiaroscuro Rose
© Conrad Aiken
Fill your bowl with roses: the bowl, too, have of crystal.
Sit at the western window. Take the sun
Between your hands like a ball of flaming crystal,
Poise it to let it fall, but hold it still,
And meditate on the beauty of your existence;
The beauty of this, that you exist at all.
Come not when I am dead
© Alfred Tennyson
Come not, when I am dead,
To drop thy foolish tears upon my grave,
To trample round my fallen head,
And vex the unhappy dust thou wouldst not save.
There let the wind sweep and the plover cry;
But thou, go by.
Classical Indian Explanation: Music
© Belinda Subraman
past the hippies
past Ravi Shankar
eons before
when the first Asian snake
confessions of a fool
© Rg Gregory
(i)
i believed in flower-power (the triumph of the meek)
the thought that what a wind could bend was not to be
derided for its weakness but known to draw its calm
from a corporate sense of self (its many-ed history)
that tyranny (in the long blow) lacked the will to break
christmas in a box
© Rg Gregory
the policeman on the streets
found christmas in a box
tipped it down a manhole
it wasn't wearing socks
cherries and birds
© Rg Gregory
cherries are so vulnerable
blinking their way from green
to polished red in trees
guileless to stave off birds
Canaris
© Victor Marie Hugo
Lorsqu'un vaisseau vaincu dérive en pleine mer ;
Que ses voiles carrées
Pendent le long des mâts, par les boulets de fer
Largement déchirées ;
convolvulus-age
© Rg Gregory
up the ladder and round the bend
age spirals like a convolvulus
its bells break into the light
catching breath with their beauty
but how in the sightless earth
its roots work to a wise agenda
christmas the delinquent
© Rg Gregory
i got nothing last year
and i expect nothing this
so i've got to find
if i'm to be rewarded
conturbat me
© Rg Gregory
martins death
has made me scared
of the old bat
that clings to the eaves
waiting to enter the house
confession
© Rg Gregory
for all my country poses
my cells belong to a town
grass is symbol-deep in me
but brick dips deeper down
chicken's claw
© Rg Gregory
by a dank and ancient coffin
in the gaunt and gloomy hall
alone and sighing deeply
crouched the sorriest crone of all
crematorium-return
© Rg Gregory
i)
ok the pair of you lie still
what's disturbing me need pass
no fretful hand over your peace
this world's vicissitudes are stale
fodder for you who feed the grass
Colors
© Stephen Vincent Benet
(For D. M. C.) The little man with the vague beard and guise
Pulled at the wicket. "Come inside!" he said,
"I'll show you all we've got now -- it was size
You wanted? -- oh, dry colors! Well" -- he led
