Car poems
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The Wound-Dresser
© Walt Whitman
But in silence, in dreams’ projections,
While the world of gain and appearance and mirth goes on,
So soon what is over forgotten, and waves wash the imprints off the sand,
With hinged knees returning I enter the doors, (while for you up there,
Whoever you are, follow without noise and be of strong heart.)
Town Eclogues: Tuesday; St. James's Coffee-House
© Lady Mary Wortley Montagu
SILLIANDER and PATCH. THOU so many favours hast receiv'd,
Wondrous to tell, and hard to be believ'd,
Oh ! H—— D, to my lays attention lend,
Hear how two lovers boastingly contend ;
Like thee successful, such their bloomy youth,
Renown'd alike for gallantry and truth.
Pastoral Sung To The King
© Robert Herrick
MON. Bad are the times. SIL. And worse than they are we.
MON. Troth, bad are both; worse fruit, and ill the tree:
Christmas Away from Home
© Jane Kenyon
Her sickness brought me to Connecticut.
Mornings I walk the dog: that part of life
is intact. Who's painted, who's insulated
or put siding on, who's burned the lawn
with lime—that's the news on Ardmore Street.
Bantry Bay
© John Clare
On the eighteenth of October we lay in Bantry Bay,
All ready to set sail, with a fresh and steady gale:
My Grandmother’s Love Letters
© Hart Crane
There are no stars tonight
But those of memory.
Yet how much room for memory there is
In the loose girdle of soft rain.
“Actuarial File”
© Jean Valentine
Orange peels, burned letters, the car lights shining on the grass,
everything goes somewhere—and everything we do—nothing
ever disappears. But changes. The roar of the sun in photographs.
Inching shorelines. Ice lines. The cells of our skin; our meetings,
our solitudes. Our eyes.
Weltende Variation #I
© Bill Knott
(homage Jacob van Hoddis)
The CIA and the KGB exchange Christmas cards
A blade snaps in two during an autopsy
The bouquet Bluebeard gave his first date reblooms
Many protest the public stoning of a guitar pick
"Why art thou silent! Is thy love a plant"
© André Breton
Why art thou silent! Is thy love a plant
Of such weak fibre that the treacherous air
Plain Language From Truthful James
© Francis Bret Harte
Which I wish to remark,
And my language is plain,
That for ways that are dark
And for tricks that are vain,
The heathen Chinee is peculiar,
Which the same I would rise to explain.
Address to Venus
© Lucretius
Delight of Human kind, and Gods above;
Parent of Rome; Propitious Queen of Love;
Acon and Rhodope; or, Inconstancy
© Heather Fuller
First of those
Who visited upon this solemn day
The Hamadryad’s oak, were Rhodope
And Acon; of one age, one hope, one trust.
Graceful was she as was the nymph whose fate
She sorrowed for: he slender, pale, and first
My Life had stood—a Loaded Gun
© Emily Dickinson
My Life had stood-a Loaded Gun-
In Corners-till a Day
The Owner passed-identified-
And carried Me away-
An Elegy upon the Death of the Dean of Paul's, Dr. John Donne
© Thomas Carew
Can we not force from widow'd poetry,
Now thou art dead (great Donne) one elegy
