Poems begining by C
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Cleaning Our Home
© Sukasah Syahdan
cleaning our home
the dust accosted my wife
and me where we'd been
Cross
© Langston Hughes
My old man's a white old man
And my old mother's black.
If ever I cursed my white old man
I take my curses back.
Convention
© Sukasah Syahdan
(To Grandma)Convention will fail us, grandma dear
One of these days, as another birthday is drawing nearI hope I can manage with a proper wish
on something you no longer cherishAnd if I cant help wishing you
a happy birthday anywayJust look at me in the eyes
Content
© Madison Julius Cawein
When I behold how some pursue
Fame, that is care's embodiment,
Or fortune, whose false face looks true,--
A humble home with sweet content
Is all I ask for me and you.
Christophe Colomb
© Jacques Delille
Eh! qui du grand Colomb ne connaît point l'histoire,
Lui dont un nouveau monde éternisa la gloire?
Charlene-n-Booker 4ever
© Forrest Hamer
And the old men, supervising grown grandsons, nephews,
any man a boy given this chance of making
a new sidewalk outside the apartment building where
some of them live, three old men and their wives,
Cats
© Francis Scarfe
Those who love cats which do not even purr
Or which are thin and tired and very old,
Bend down to them in the street and stroke their fur
And rub their ears, and smooth their breast, and hold
Them carefully, and gaze into their eyes of gold.
Casualty
© Seamus Justin Heaney
Dawn-sniffing revenant,
Plodder through midnight rain,
Question me again.
Composed At The Same Time And On The Same Occasion
© William Wordsworth
I DROPPED my pen; and listened to the Wind
That sang of trees uptorn and vessels tost--
A midnight harmony; and wholly lost
To the general sense of men by chains confined
Compensations
© Alfred Noyes
Not with a flash that rends the blue
Shall fall the avenging sword.
Gently as the evening dew
Descends the mighty Lord.
Colonel Fazackerley Butterworth-Toast
© Charles Causley
Colonel Fazackerley Butterworth-Toast
Bought an old castle complete with a ghost,
But someone or other forgot to declare
To Colonel Fazak that the spectre was there.
Climatic Sorcery
© James Whitcomb Riley
When frost's all on our winder, an' the snow's
All out-o'-doors, our "Old-Kriss"-milkman goes
A-drivin' round, ist purt'-nigh froze to death,
With his old white mustache froze full o' breath.
Crying to be written
© Ivan Donn Carswell
Dawn has reached the ridges to the north and a thin
line of light chased the night west; it is the best
time of day for me a cup of coffee, Benson & Scud
pretending to sleep in their baskets at my feet,
Courage is a motherless lamb
© Ivan Donn Carswell
For a small child crossing the pen alone was a courageous feat,
occasionally, with a maniacal bleat, the wether would burst from cover
and butt whomever graced his yard. He meant it in fun, something
he had done since his bottle-fed youth, he knew no other form of greeting.
Consciousness Of Our Return
© Ivan Donn Carswell
Night's grating of steel on stone and splash
of water crashing from the buckets
brings back that moment in a flash;
the night burnt bright in limb's caress
and flesh yielding flesh in passions
blessed by sealed lips.
Congratulations
© Ivan Donn Carswell
Congratulations, youve succeeded,
youve acknowledged 60% of you at least
are the incredibly dense and mindless people
needed to make sense of incomprehensible
Colours in lamplight
© Ivan Donn Carswell
Colours in lamplight are previews,
scarcely eschewed as wave-length turbulence
tuned to closeness and friendship.
Colours in firelight are skin-warmed
Clouded dreams
© Ivan Donn Carswell
Tonight Ill dream of stratus clouds and gentle rain
to drench the shroud that binds the earth in powdered
dust, rising in asthmatic puffs about our dusty feet;
and sleep I will with cirrus wings to soar above
the earthy things that strive to snare my clouded dreams.
© I.D. Carswell
