Car poems
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'Twas just this time, last year, I died.
© Emily Dickinson
'Twas just this time, last year, I died.
I know I heard the Corn,
When I was carried by the Farms --
It had the Tassels on --
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 --
How happy is the little Stone
© Emily Dickinson
How happy is the little Stone
That rambles in the Road alone,
And doesn't care about Careers
And Exigencies never fears --
Awake ye muses nine
© Emily Dickinson
Awake ye muses nine, sing me a strain divine,
Unwind the solemn twine, and tie my Valentine!Oh the Earth was made for lovers, for damsel, and hopeless swain,
For sighing, and gentle whispering, and unity made of twain.
All things do go a courting, in earth, or sea, or air,
Because I could not stop for Death
© Emily Dickinson
Because I could not stop for Death
He kindly stopped for me
The Carriage held but just Ourselves
And Immortality.
Passer-By, These Are Words
© Yves Bonnefoy
Passer-by, these are words. But instead of reading
I want you to listen: to this frail
Voice like that of letters eaten by grass.
The house where I was born (07)
© Yves Bonnefoy
I have crossed out
These words a hundred times, in verse, in prose,
But I cannot
Stop them from coming back.)
Wallace Stevens On His Way To Work
© David Wagoner
He would leave early and walk slowly
As if balancing books
On the way to school, already expecting
To be tardy once again and heavy
The Aged Pilot Man
© Mark Twain
On the Erie Canal, it was,
All on a summer's day,
I sailed forth with my parents
Far away to Albany.
The Widening Spell Of Leaves
© Larry Levis
--The Carpathian Frontier, October, 1968
--for my brotherOnce, in a foreign country, I was suddenly ill.
I was driving south toward a large city famous
For so little it had a replica, in concrete,
Philip Le Barr
© Spike Milligan
Philip Le Barr,
Was knock down by a car,
On the road to Mandalay.
He was knocked down again
Me
© Spike Milligan
Born screaming small into this world-
Living I am.
Occupational therapy twixt birth and death-
What was I before?
If you should tire of loving me
© Margaret Widdemer
If you should tire of loving me
Some one of our far days,
Oh, never start to hide your heart
Or cover thought with praise.
InheritanceHis
© Audre Lorde
Does an image of return
wealthy and triumphant
warm your chilblained fingers
as you count coins in the Manhattan snow
or is it only Linda
who dreams of home?
Making Love To Concrete
© Audre Lorde
An upright abutment in the mouth
of the Willis Avenue bridge
a beige Honda leaps the divider
like a steel gazelle inescapable
Five Ways To Kill A Man
© Edwin Brock
Dispensing with nobility, you may, if the wind
allows, blow gas at him. But then you need
a mile of mud sliced through with ditches,
not to mention black boots, bomb craters,
more mud, a plague of rats, a dozen songs
and some round hats made of steel.
The Fathers
© Edwin Muir
Our fathers all were poor,
Poorer our fathers' fathers;
Beyond, we dare not look.
We, the sons, keep store
Scotland 1941
© Edwin Muir
We were a tribe, a family, a people.
Wallace and Bruce guard now a painted field,
And all may read the folio of our fable,
Peruse the sword, the sceptre and the shield.
In Love For Long
© Edwin Muir
I've been in love for long
With what I cannot tell
And will contrive a song
For the intangible
That has no mould or shape,
From which there's no escape.
