Car poems
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Neruda's Hat
© Kelli Russell Agodon
On a day when weather stole every breeze,
Pablo told her he kept bits of his poems
tucked behind the band in his hat.
Of a Forgetful Sea
© Kelli Russell Agodon
In her palm,
she holds small creatures,
tracks an ant, a flea
moving over each grain.
To the Muse
© Alexander Blok
In your hidden memories
There are fatal tidings of doom...
A curse on sacred traditions,
A desecration of happiness;
The Twelve
© Alexander Blok
III
Our sons have gone
to serve the Reds
to serve the Reds
to risk their heads!
The Shepherds
© Henry Vaughan
Sweet, harmless lives! (on whose holy leisure
Waits innocence and pleasure),
Whose leaders to those pastures, and clear springs,
Were patriarchs, saints, and kings,
The Revival
© Henry Vaughan
1 Unfold! unfold! Take in His light,
2 Who makes thy cares more short than night.
3 The joys which with His day-star rise,
4 He deals to all but drowsy eyes;
5 And (what the men of this world miss)
6 Some drops and dews of future bliss.
I Walk'd the Other Day
© Henry Vaughan
1 I walk'd the other day, to spend my hour,
2 Into a field,
3 Where I sometimes had seen the soil to yield
4 A gallant flow'r;
The House In The Woods
© Randall Jarrell
At the back of the houses there is the wood.
While there is a leaf of summer left, the woodMakes sounds I can put somewhere in my song,
Has paths I can walk, when I wake, to goodOr evil: to the cage, to the oven, to the House
In the Wood. It is a part of life, or of the storyWe make of life. But after the last leaf,
Children Selecting Books In A Library
© Randall Jarrell
With beasts and gods, above, the wall is bright.
The child's head, bent to the book-colored shelves,
Is slow and sidelong and food-gathering,
Moving in blind grace ... yet from the mural, Care
Hope
© Randall Jarrell
The spirit killeth, but the letter giveth life.
The week is dealt out like a hand
That children pick up card by card.
One keeps getting the same hand.
From On Being Fired Again
© Erin Belieu
most notably by Larry who found my snood
unsuitable, another time by Jack,
whom I was sleeping with. Poor attitude,
tardiness, a contagious lack
of team spirit; I have been unmotivated
For Catherine: Juana, Infanta of Navarre
© Erin Belieu
Once you were a daughter, too,
then a wife and now the mother
of a baby with a Spanish name.
The Road
© Siegfried Sassoon
The road is thronged with women; soldiers pass
And halt, but never see them; yet theyre here
A patient crowd along the sodden grass,
Silent, worn out with waiting, sick with fear.
To a Very Wise Man
© Siegfried Sassoon
IFires in the dark you build; tall quivering flames
In the huge midnight forest of the unknown.
Your soul is full of cities with dead names,
And blind-faced, earth-bound gods of bronze and stone
At Carnoy
© Siegfried Sassoon
Down in the hollow theres the whole Brigade
Camped in four groups: through twilight falling slow
I hear a sound of mouth-organs, ill-played,
And murmur of voices, gruff, confused, and low.
Their Frailty
© Siegfried Sassoon
He's got a Blighty wound. Hes safe; and then
Wars fine and bold and bright.
She can forget the doomed and prisoned men
Who agonize and fight.
A Wanderer
© Siegfried Sassoon
Sometimes, returning down his breezy miles,
A snatch of wayward April he will bring,
Piping the daffodilly that beguiles
Foolhardy lovers in the surge of spring.
And then once more by lanes and field-path stiles
Up the green world he wanders like a king.
A Working Party
© Siegfried Sassoon
Three hours ago, he stumbled up the trench;
Now he will never walk that road again:
He must be carried back, a jolting lump
Beyond all needs of tenderness and care.
To Any Dead Officer
© Siegfried Sassoon
Well, how are things in Heaven? I wish youd say,
Because Id like to know that youre all right.
Tell me, have you found everlasting day,
Or been sucked in by everlasting night?
To a Childless Woman
© Siegfried Sassoon
You think I cannot understand. Ah, but I do...
I have been wrung with anger and compassion for you.
I wonder if youd loathe my pity, if you knew.
