Cool poems

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The Double Ninth Festival

© Li Ching Chao

The coolness of midnight
penetrates my screen of sheer silk
and chills my pillow of jade.

The Hunting Of Pau-Puk Keewis

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Full of wrath was Hiawatha
When he came into the village,
Found the people in confusion,
Heard of all the misdemeanors,

Hiawatha's Departure

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

By the shore of Gitche Gumee,
By the shining Big-Sea-Water,
At the doorway of his wigwam,
In the pleasant Summer morning,

The Good Part, That Shall Not Be Taken Away

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

She dwells by Great Kenhawa's side,
In valleys green and cool;
And all her hope and all her pride
Are in the village school.

Hymn to the Night

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I heard the trailing garments of the Night
Sweep through her marble halls!
I saw her sable skirts all fringed with light
From the celestial walls!

Rain In Summer

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

How beautiful is the rain!
After the dust and heat,
In the broad and fiery street,
In the narrow lane,
How beautiful is the rain!

Crispy chimes of Autumn, spread out upon natures floor.
The falling greens of spring and summer, now taking on a brown like decor.
Bare bodies stand naked, their bones clanging in the wind.
Hoping to soon be reclothed, by winters cool new offerings.

Peaceful Ground

© Robert M. Hensel

Cool Morning spit on bladed grass.
A Thousand silky fingers tickling toes.
The strong scent of natures freshly cut hair.
Mans spiritual stamping groung toward inner
peace.

How Shall My Animal

© Dylan Thomas

How shall my animal
Whose wizard shape I trace in the cavernous skull,
Vessel of abscesses and exultation's shell,
Endure burial under the spelling wall,

Ballad Of The Long-Legged Bait

© Dylan Thomas

The bows glided down, and the coast
Blackened with birds took a last look
At his thrashing hair and whale-blue eye;
The trodden town rang its cobbles for luck.

Dylan Thomas - Holy Spring

© Dylan Thomas

O
Out of a bed of love
When that immortal hospital made one more moove to soothe
The curless counted body,

Poem On His Birthday

© Dylan Thomas

In the mustardseed sun,
By full tilt river and switchback sea
Where the cormorants scud,
In his house on stilts high among beaks

V

© Tony Harrison

Next millennium you'll have to search quite hard
to find my slab behind the family dead,
butcher, publican, and baker, now me, bard
adding poetry to their beef, beer and bread.

One need not be a Chamber -- to be Haunted --

© Emily Dickinson

One need not be a Chamber -- to be Haunted --
One need not be a House --
The Brain has Corridors -- surpassing
Material Place --

When I hoped, I recollect

When I hoped, I recollect
Just the place I stood --
At a Window facing West --
Roughest Air -- was good --

What care the Dead, for Chanticleer --

What care the Dead, for Chanticleer --
What care the Dead for Day?
'Tis late your Sunrise vex their face --
And Purple Ribaldry -- of Morning

Upon Concluded Lives

Upon Concluded Lives
There's nothing cooler falls --
Than Life's sweet Calculations --
The mixing Bells and Palls --

To make One's Toilette -- after Death

To make One's Toilette -- after Death
Has made the Toilette cool
Of only Taste we cared to please
Is difficult, and still --

These Fevered Days -- to take them to the Forest

These Fevered Days -- to take them to the Forest
Where Waters cool around the mosses crawl --
And shade is all that devastates the stillness
Seems it sometimes this would be all --

The World -- feels Dusty

The World -- feels Dusty
When We stop to Die --
We want the Dew -- then --
Honors -- taste dry --