Poems begining by C
/ page 54 of 99 /
Child on the Marsh
© Andrew Hudgins
I worked the river’s slick banks, grabbling
in mud holes underneath tree roots.
Coal
© Elizabeth Daryush
Love is a word another kind of open—
As a diamond comes into a knot of flame
I am black because I come from the earth's inside
Take my word for jewel in your open light.
Confiteor
© Adam Lindsay Gordon
The shore-boat lies in the morning light,
By the good ship ready for sailing;
Come Skating
© Sheldon Allan Silverstein
They said come skating;
They said it's so nice.
They said come skating;
I'd done it twice.
Christmas Tree
© Daniel Nester
This seablue fir that rode the mountain storm
Is swaddled here in splints of tin to die.
Sofas around in chubby velvet swarm;
Onlooking cabinets glitter with flat eye;
Here lacquer in the branches runs like rain
And resin of treasure starts from every vein.
Charlie Chaplin Impersonates a Poet
© Cornelius Eady
He opens his mouth: Tra-la!
Out comes doves, incandescent bulbs,
Plastic roses. Well, that’s that,
Squirms the young professor who’s
Coordinated this,
No more visiting poets!
Christmas Day, 1850
© George MacDonald
Beautiful stories wed with lovely days
Like words and music:-what shall be the tale
Of love and nobleness that might avail
To express in action what this sweetness says-
Cherry-Ripe
© Thomas Campion
There is a garden in her face
Where roses and white lilies blow;
A heavenly paradise is that place,
Wherein all pleasant fruits do flow:
There cherries grow which none may buy
Till “Cherry-ripe” themselves do cry.
Cyriack, Whose Grandsire
© Patrick Kavanagh
Cyriack, whose grandsire on the royal bench
Of British Themis, with no mean applause,
Cyprus Brig
© Anonymous
Poor Tom Brown from Nottingham, Jack Williams and poor Joe
They were three gallant poacher boys their country well does know
And by the laws of the Game Act that you may understand
Were fourteen years transported boys unto Van Diemen's Land
Causerie
© Allen Tate
. . . party on the stage of the Earl Carroll Theatre on
Feb. 23. At this party Joyce Hawley, a chorus-girl,
bathed in the nude in a bathtub filled with alleged
wine. New York Times.
Creole
© Robert Pinsky
I’m tired of the gods, I’m pious about the ancestors: afloat
In the wake widening behind me in time, the restive devisers.
Consolation
© Robert Louis Stevenson
Though he, that ever kind and true,
Kept stoutly step by step with you,
Captain Von Muller
© Jessie Pope
A Skipper of mark was Von Muller,
The humorous naval leg-puller.
With ubiquitous ease
He raided the seas
And his bag became fuller and fuller.
