Car poems
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To Play Pianissimo by Lola Haskins: American Life in Poetry #43 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-
© Ted Kooser
Lola Haskins, who lives in Florida, has written a number of poems about musical terms, entitled "Adagio," "Allegrissimo," "Staccato," and so on. Here is just one of those, presenting the gentleness of pianissimo playing through a series of comparisons
To Play Pianissimo
Does not mean silence.
The absence of moon in the day sky
for example.
Cradle-Song For My Son Carl
© Carl Michael Bellman
Little Carl, sleep soft and sweet:
Thou'lt soon enough be waking;
Book Eleventh: France [concluded]
© William Wordsworth
But indignation works where hope is not,
And thou, O Friend! wilt be refreshed. There is
One great society alone on earth:
The noble Living and the noble Dead.
The Author to the Reader
© Francis Beaumont
I sing the fortune of a luckless pair,
Whose spotless souls now in one body be;
Sunset On The Bearcamp
© John Greenleaf Whittier
A gold fringe on the purpling hem
Of hills the river runs,
As down its long, green valley falls
The last of summer's suns.
L'Homme Et La Mer (Man And The Sea)
© Charles Baudelaire
Homme libre, toujours tu chériras la mer!
La mer est ton miroir; tu contemples ton âme
Dans le déroulement infini de sa lame,
Et ton esprit n'est pas un gouffre moins amer.
The Messenger Rose
© Henry Timrod
If you have seen a richer glow,
Pray, tell me where your roses blow!
Phantasies
© Emma Lazarus
Rest, beauty, stillness: not a waif of a cloud
From gray-blue east sheer to the yellow west-
No film of mist the utmost slopes to shroud.
The Deserted House
© Alfred Tennyson
Life and Thought have gone away
Side by side,
Leaving door and windows wide.
Careless tenants they!
Bush Justice
© Charles Harpur
A Dealer, bewitched by gain-promising dreams
Settled down near my Station, to trade with my Teams,
The Dark Angel
© Lionel Pigot Johnson
DARK Angel, with thine aching lust
To rid the world of penitence:
Malicious Angel, who still dost
My soul such subtile violence!
Ghost Villanelle by Dan Lechay: American Life in Poetry #187 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-20
© Ted Kooser
I thought that we'd celebrate Halloween with an appropriate poem, and Iowa poet Dan Lechay's seems just right. The drifting veils of rhyme and meter disclose a ghost, or is it a ghost?
Ghost Villanelle
We never saw the ghost, though he was thereâ
we knew from the raindrops tapping on the eaves.
We never saw him, and we didn't care.
Humanity
© Charles Harpur
I dreamed I was a sculptor, and had wrought
Out of a towering adamantine crag
Why
© Emily Dickinson
The Murmur of a Bee
A Witchcraftyieldeth me
If any ask me why
'Twere easier to die
Than tell
The Exiles' Line
© Rudyard Kipling
Twelve knots an hour, be they more or less -
Oh slothful mother of much idleness,
Whom neither rivals spur nor contracts speed!
Nay, bear us gently! Wherefore need we press?
