Car poems
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In My Mother's House by Gloria g. Murray: American Life in Poetry #31 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate
© Ted Kooser
All of us have known tyrants, perhaps at the office, on the playground or, as in this poem, within a family. Here Long Island poet Gloria g. Murray portrays an authoritarian mother and her domain. Perhaps you've felt the tension in a scene like this.
Gloves by Jose Angel Araguz: American Life in Poetry #196 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006
© Ted Kooser
One of the most effective means for conveying strong emotion is to invest some real object with one's feelings, and then to let the object carry those feelings to the reader. Notice how the gloves in this short poem by Jose´ Angel Araguz of Oregon carry the heavy weight of the speaker's loss.
Gloves
I made up a story for myself once,
That each glove I lost
Was sent to my father in prison
Beloved, with the spent and sickly fumes...
© Boris Pasternak
Beloved, with the spent and sickly fumes
Of rumour's cinders all the air is filled,
But you are the engrossing lexicon
Of fame mysterious and unrevealed,
The Shape Of The Fire
© Theodore Roethke
Whats this? A dish for fat lips.
Who says? A nameless stranger.
Is he a bird or a tree? Not everyone can tell.
Wind-Clouds And Star-Drifts
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
Here am I, bound upon this pillared rock,
Prey to the vulture of a vast desire
That feeds upon my life. I burst my bands
And steal a moment's freedom from the beak,
The clinging talons and the shadowing plumes;
Then comes the false enchantress, with her song;
Ode To Our Young Pro-Consuls Of The Air
© Allen Tate
Once more the country calls
From sleep, as from his doom,
Each citizen to take
His modest stake
Where the sky falls
With a Pacific boom.
Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam 251-500 (Whinfield Translation)
© Omar Khayyám
Are you depressed? Then take of bhang one grain,
Of rosy grape-juice take one pint or twain;
Sufis, you say, must not take this or that,
Then go and eat the pebbles off the plain!
Paradise Lost : Book IV.
© John Milton
O, for that warning voice, which he, who saw
The Apocalypse, heard cry in Heaven aloud,
The Golden Yesterday
© Roderic Quinn
AFTER a spell of chill, grey weather,
(Green, O green, are the feet of Spring!)
The heaven is here of flower and feather,
Of wild red blossom and flashing wing.
Accomplished Care
© Edgar Albert Guest
All things grow lovely in a little while,
The brush of memory paints a canvas fair;
The Progress Of Refinement. Part III.
© Henry James Pye
CONTENTS OF PART III. Introduction.Comparison of ancient and modern Manners. Peculiar softness of the latter.Humanity in War. Politeness.Enquiry into the causes.Purity of the Christian Religion.Abolition of Slavery in Europe. Remaining effects of Chivalry.The behaviour of Edward the Black Prince, after the battle of Poitiers, contrasted with a Roman Triumph.Tendency of firearms to abate the ferocity of war.Duelling.Society of Women.Consequent prevalence of Love in poetical compositions. Softness of the modern Drama.Shakespear admired, but not imitated.Sentimental Comedy.Novels. Diffusion of superficial knowledge.Prevalence of Gaming in every state of mankind.Peculiar effect of the universal influence of Cards on modern times.Luxury. Enquiry why it does not threaten Europe now, with the fatal consequences it brought on ancient Rome.Indolence, and Gluttony, checked by the free intercourse with women.Their dislike to effeminate men.The frequent wars among the European Nations keep up a martial spirit.Point of Honor.Hereditary Nobility.Peculiar situation of Britain.Effects of Commerce when carried to excess.Danger when money becomes the sole distinction. Address to Men of ancient and noble families. Address to the Ladies.The Decline of their influence, a sure fore-runner of selfish Luxury.Recapitulation and Conclusion.
My Mind Keeps Movin
© Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Fly off to Paris just to get away from home
Get off in London and I grab a boat for Rome
Got to St Louis be in St Paul or else take a trip and go no place at all
Because my mind keeps a movin'...
Lines To The Memory Of A Very Amiable Young Lady, Who Died At The Age Of Eighteen
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
AT length, departed saint! thy pangs are o'er,
And earthly suff'ring shall be thine no more;
Like some young rose-bud, blighted in its May,
Thy virtues bloom'd, to wither soon away!
The Last Envoy
© Edith Nesbit
THIS wind, that through the silent woodland blows,
O'er rippling corn and dreaming pastures goes
Straight to the garden where the heart of spring
Faints in the heart of summer's earliest rose.
The Finest Fellowship
© Edgar Albert Guest
There may be finer pleasures than just tramping with your boy,
And better ways to spend a day; there may be sweeter joy;
There may be richer fellowship than that of son and dad,
But if there is, I know it not; it's one I've never had.
O'er Thee, Misfortune, I Have Ceased To Wail
© France Preseren
O'er thee, Misfortune, I have ceased to wail,
I'll utter no reproaches any more.
Thank God, I'm used to griefs thou hast in store
And to the sufferings in life's strong jail.
On Going Home For Christmas
© Edgar Albert Guest
He little knew the sorrow that was in his vacant chair;
He never guessed they'd miss him, or he'd surely have been there;
He couldn't see his mother or the lump that filled her throat,
Or the tears that started falling as she read his hasty note;
And he couldn't see his father, sitting sorrowful and dumb,
Or he never would have written that he thought he couldn't come.
Views Of Life
© Anne Brontë
When sinks my heart in hopeless gloom,
And life can show no joy for me;
And I behold a yawning tomb,
Where bowers and palaces should be;
