Car poems
/ page 607 of 738 /
Skating
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
I CHASED the maid with rapid feet,
Where ice and sunbeam quiver;
But still beyond me, shyly fleet,
She flashed far down the river.
A Song From The Suds
© Louisa May Alcott
Queen of my tub, I merrily sing,
While the white foam raises high,
And sturdily wash, and rinse, and wring,
And fasten the clothes to dry;
Then out in the free fresh air they swing,
Under the sunny sky.
Lesson
© Forrest Hamer
It was 1963 or 4, summer,
and my father was driving our family
from Ft. Hood to North Carolina in our 56 Buick.
We'd been hearing about Klan attacks, and we knew
Testimony
© Seamus Justin Heaney
'We were killing pigs when the
Yanks arrived.
A Tuesday morning, sunlight
and gutter-blood
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.
The Perch
© Seamus Justin Heaney
That is passable through, but theyre bluntly holding the
pass,
Under the water-roof, over the bottom, adoze
Request To The Grace
© Robert Herrick
Ponder my words, if so that any be
Known guilty here of incivility;
Act of Union
© Seamus Justin Heaney
ITo-night, a first movement, a pulse,
As if the rain in bogland gathered head
To slip and flood: a bog-burst,
A gash breaking open the ferny bed.
Motherhood
© Edgar Albert Guest
I wonder if he'll stop to think,
When the long years have traveled by,
Digging
© Seamus Justin Heaney
Under my window, a clean rasping sound
When the spade sinks into gravelly ground:
My father, digging. I look down
Grandmothers Teaching
© Alfred Austin
``Grandmother dear, you do not know; you have lived the old-world life,
Under the twittering eaves of home, sheltered from storm and strife;
Rocking cradles, and covering jams, knitting socks for baby feet,
Or piecing together lavender bags for keeping the linen sweet:
Daughter, wife, and mother in turn, and each with a blameless breast,
Then saying your prayers when the nightfall came, and quietly dropping to rest.
Juliet After The Masquerade. By Thompson
© Letitia Elizabeth Landon
SHE left the festival, for it seem'd dim
Now that her eye no longer dwelt on him,
Gravestone
© Ivan Donn Carswell
But I am not yet dead and yet I rest my head
sweetly on the bare gravestones of great poets,
I am not yet dead though I sleep soundly
in the graveyards with their bones;
Your Voices Joined Is All It Takes
© Ivan Donn Carswell
They came in masted wooden ships across
an unindentured sea and cast their lot in ocean
swells to chance at history, and Sovereign power
commanded thus they rot in purgatory.
Your noble reign
© Ivan Donn Carswell
The man whose term we would remember as our longest,
constant serving Head of State, besides the late Sir Robert
Gordon Menzies, turned 67 yesterday. Congratulations John,
youve run a long and torrid race, kept up a frenzied pace
Worthy Places
© Ivan Donn Carswell
There were some worthy places where we could escape,
avoid the heavy weight of living in a densely
peopled space; the first was to the outside loo
(the only loo but where at least the toilet paper
The Death Of Nelson
© Adam Lindsay Gordon
'TWAS midst the battle's echoing din
And the cannon's thundering roar,
Where The Creek Used To Run
© Ivan Donn Carswell
In ash-fine silt that spread like sand
after the flood and before the wild weeds
claimed the old stream bed;
before thistle phalanxes sprang
