Poems begining by C
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Cold Poem
© Mary Oliver
I think of summer with its luminous fruit,
blossoms rounding to berries, leaves,
handfuls of grain.
Contemplation
© Charles Baudelaire
THOU, O my Grief, be wise and tranquil still,
The eve is thine which even now drops down,
To carry peace or care to human will,
And in a misty veil enfolds the town.
Correspondences
© Charles Baudelaire
Nature is a temple where the living pillars
Let go sometimes a blurred speech
A Forest of symbols passes through a man's reach
And observes him with a familiar regard.
Christ of Everywhere
© Henry Van Dyke
"Christ of the Andes," Christ of Everywhere,
Great lover of the hills, the open air,
And patient lover of impatient men
Who blindly strive and sin and strive again, --
Cat
© John Ronald Reuel Tolkien
The fat cat on the mat
may seem to dream
of nice mice that suffice
for him, or cream;
Canzonet
© Oscar Wilde
I have no store
Of gryphon-guarded gold;
Now, as before,
Bare is the shepherd's fold.
Camma
© Oscar Wilde
And yet - methinks I'd rather see thee play
That serpent of old Nile, whose witchery
Made Emperors drunken, - come, great Egypt, shake
Our stage with all thy mimic pageants! Nay,
I am grown sick of unreal passions, make
The world thine Actium, me thine Anthony!
Chanson
© Oscar Wilde
A ring of gold and a milk-white dove
Are goodly gifts for thee,
And a hempen rope for your own love
To hang upon a tree.
Charmides
© Oscar Wilde
He was a Grecian lad, who coming home
With pulpy figs and wine from Sicily
Stood at his galley's prow, and let the foam
Blow through his crisp brown curls unconsciously,
And holding wave and wind in boy's despite
Peered from his dripping seat across the wet and stormy night.
Child of Europe
© Czeslaw Milosz
1
We, whose lungs fill with the sweetness of day.
Who in May admire trees flowering
Are better than those who perished.
Campo di Fiori
© Czeslaw Milosz
In Rome on the Campo di Fiori
Baskets of olives and lemons,
Cobbles spattered with wine
And the wreckage of flowers.
Conversion
© Jean Toomer
African Guardian of Souls,
Drunk with rum,
Feasting on strange cassava,
Yielding to new words and a weak palabra
Charlie Howard’s Descent
© Mark Doty
Between the bridge and the river
he falls through
a huge portion of night;
it is not as if falling
Clothes
© Edgar Bowers
Walking back to the office after lunch,
I saw Hans. “Mister Isham, Mister Isham,”
Come Up from the Fields Father
© Walt Whitman
Lo, ’tis autumn,
Lo, where the trees, deeper green, yellower and redder,
Cool and sweeten Ohio’s villages with leaves fluttering in the moderate wind,
Where apples ripe in the orchards hang and grapes on the trellis’d vines,
(Smell you the smell of the grapes on the vines?
Smell you the buckwheat where the bees were lately buzzing?)
Crossing 16
© Anselm Hollo
You came to my door in the dawn and sang; it angered me to be awakened from sleep, and you went away unheeded.
You came in the noon and asked for water; it vexed me in my work, and you were sent away with reproaches.
You came in the evening with your flaming torches.
You seemed to me like a terror and I shut my door.
Now in the midnight I sit alone in my lampless room and call you back whom I turned away in insult.
Ceremony
© Lola Ridge
A striped blouse in a clearing by Bazille
Is, you may say, a patroness of boughs
Too queenly kind toward nature to be kin.
But ceremony never did conceal,
Save to the silly eye, which all allows,
How much we are the woods we wander in.
Cityscape
© Eavan Boland
I have a word for it —
the way the surface waited all day
to be a silvery pause between sky and city —
which is elver.
Credo
© Robinson Jeffers
My friend from Asia has powers and magic, he plucks a blue leaf from the young blue-gum
And gazing upon it, gathering and quieting
