Children poems
/ page 129 of 244 /God Hides His People
© William Cowper
To lay the soul that loves him low,
Becomes the Onlywise:
To hide beneath a veil of woe,
The children of the skies.
A Death in the Desert
© Robert Browning
Then Xanthus said a prayer, but still he slept:
It is the Xanthus that escaped to Rome,
Was burned, and could not write the chronicle.
The Waste Land
© Thomas Stearns Eliot
“My nerves are bad tonight. Yes, bad. Stay with me.
“Speak to me. Why do you never speak. Speak.
“What are you thinking of? What thinking? What?
“I never know what you are thinking. Think.”
Pyrography
© John Ashbery
Out here on Cottage Grove it matters. The galloping
Wind balks at its shadow. The carriages
La Patrie
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Through storm--blown gloom the subtle light persists;
Shapes of tumultuous, ghostly cloud appear,
Trailing a dark shower from hill--drenching mists:
Dawn, desolate in its majesty, is here.
A Happy Childhood
© William Matthews
No one keeps a secret so well as a child
Victor Hugo
My mother stands at the screen door, laughing.
“Out out damn Spot,” she commands our silly dog.
I wonder what this means. I rise into adult air
An Epistle: (To N.A.)
© William Watson
So, into Cornwall you go down,
And leave me loitering here in town.
The Common Women Poems, III. Nadine, resting on her neighbor’s stoop
© Judy Grahn
She holds things together, collects bail,
makes the landlord patch the largest holes.
Selective Service
© Carolyn Forche
We rise from the snow where we’ve
lain on our backs and flown like children,
The Candle Of The Lord
© Ada Cambridge
Our spirit-ay, our own!-the tree whose fruits
Have never fail'd-the sign upon the door
'Twixt us and God's intelligent dumb brutes,
That parts us evermore!
Only a Dad
© Edgar Albert Guest
Only a dad, with a tired face,
Coming home from the daily race,
Bringing little of gold or fame,
To show how well he has played the game,
But glad in his heart that his own rejoice
To see him come, and to hear his voice.
An African Elegy
© Robert Duncan
In the groves of Africa from their natural wonder
the wildebeest, zebra, the okapi, the elephant,
The Steps
© Paul Valéry
Your steps, children of my silence,
Holily, slowly placed,
Towards the bed of my vigilance
Proceed dumb and frozen.
The Poet And The Children
© John Greenleaf Whittier
WITH a glory of winter sunshine
Over his locks of gray,
In the old historic mansion
He sat on his last birthday;
Kaddish
© Allen Ginsberg
Magnificent, mourned no more, marred of heart, mind behind, married dreamed, mortal changed—Ass and face done with murder.
In the world, given, flower maddened, made no Utopia, shut under pine, almed in Earth, balmed in Lone, Jehovah, accept.
Nameless, One Faced, Forever beyond me, beginningless, endless, Father in death. Tho I am not there for this Prophecy, I am unmarried, I’m hymnless, I’m Heavenless, headless in blisshood I would still adore
Thee, Heaven, after Death, only One blessed in Nothingness, not light or darkness, Dayless Eternity—
Take this, this Psalm, from me, burst from my hand in a day, some of my Time, now given to Nothing—to praise Thee—But Death
This is the end, the redemption from Wilderness, way for the Wonderer, House sought for All, black handkerchief washed clean by weeping—page beyond Psalm—Last change of mine and Naomi—to God’s perfect Darkness—Death, stay thy phantoms!
i wanted to overthrow the government but all i brought down was somebody's wife
© Charles Bukowski
30 dogs, 20 men on 20 horses and one fox
and look here, they write,
you are a dupe for the state, the church,
you are in the ego-dream,
read your history, study the monetary system,
note that the racial war is 23,000 years old.