Car poems
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The River
© John Masefield
All other waters have their time of peace.Calm, or the turn of tide or summer drought;But on these bars the tumults never cease,In violent death this river passes out.
The Wind Our Enemy
© Marriott Anne
Windflattening its gaunt furious self againstthe naked siding, knifing in the woundsof time, pausing to tear aside the lastold scab of paint.
On Reading that I am ‘Elderly’
© Marriott Anne
As if the wordhas some dragging magicshe appearsthat woman who bentso carefully her black laced feetto fit the curveof the beachside walk(Victoria: a long moist springor was it autumn?)
From The Jew of Malta ("Content, but we will leave this paltry land")
© Christopher Marlowe
And sail from hence to Greece, to lovely Greece;I'll be thy Jason, thou my golden fleece;Where painted carpets o'er the the meads are hurledAnd Bacchus's vineyards o'er-spread the world,Where woods and forests go in goodly green,I'll be Adonis, thou shalt be Love's Queen;The meads, the orchards, and the primrose lanesInstead of sedge and reed bear sugar-canes;Thou in those groves, by Dis above,Shalt live with me and be my love
Very Sad Song
© Macpherson Jay
I cannot claim I rise to weep,But oh, the burden of my dayWould make an angel turn away:I’d rather be in bed asleep.
Eurynome
© Macpherson Jay
Come all old maids that are squeamishAnd afraid to make mistakes,Don't clutter your lives up with boyfriends:The nicest girls marry snakes.
The Song of the Ski
© MacDonald Wilson Pugsley
Norse am I when the first snow falls;Norse am I till the ice departs
Exit
© MacDonald Wilson Pugsley
Easily to the old Opens the hard ground:But when youth grows cold, And red lips have no sound,Bitterly does the earth Open to receiveAnd bitterly do the grasses In the churchyard grieve.
John-John
© MacDonagh Thomas
I dreamt last night of you, John-John, And thought you called to me;And when I woke this morning, John, Yourself I hoped to see;But I was all alone, John-John, Though still I heard your call:I put my boots and bonnet on, And took my Sunday shawl,And went, full sure to find you, John, To Nenagh fair
The Last Buccaneer
© Macaulay Thomas Babington
The winds were yelling, the waves were swelling, The sky was black and drear,When the crew with eyes of flame brought the ship without a name Alongside the last Buccaneer.
Cupid and my Campaspe play'd
© John Lyly
Cupid and my Campaspe play'dAt cards for kisses--Cupid paid:He stakes his quiver, bow and arrows,His mother's doves, and team of sparrows;Loses them too; then down he throwsThe coral of his lip, the roseGrowing on's cheek (but none knows how);With these, the crystal of his brow,And then the dimple of his chin:All these did my Campaspe win
The Sonnets of Ishtar
© Lodge George Cabot
I am the world's imperishable desire;Life is because I will, for hope of meLife is, nor all the dark depths of the seaCould quench mine eyes' light nor my body's fire
Old Friends
© Linton William James
The old old friends!Some changed; some buried; some gone out of sight;Some enemies, and in this world's swift fight No time to make amends.
My White Hair
© Li Bai
Long, long is my whitening hair;Long, long is it laden with care.I look into my mirror bright.From where comes autumn frost in sight?
