Poems begining by D

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Death's Way

© Robert William Service

Old Man Death's a lousy heel who will not play the game:
Let Graveyard yawn and doom down crash, he'll sneer and turn away.
But when the sky with rapture rings and joy is like a flame,
Then Old Man Death grins evilly, and swings around to slay.

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Dreams Are Best

© Robert William Service

I just think that dreams are best,
Just to sit and fancy things;
Give your gold no acid test,
Try not how your silver rings;

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Dunce

© Robert William Service

At school I never gained a prize,
Proving myself the model ass;
Yet how I watched the wistful eyes,
And cheered my mates who topped the class.

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Dead Boy

© John Crowe Ransom

The little cousin is dead, by foul subtraction,
A green bough from Virginia's aged tree,
And none of the county kin like the transaction,
Nor some of the world of outer dark, like me.

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Ditty of First Desire

© Federico Garcia Lorca

In the green morning
I wanted to be a heart.
A heart.

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Dungeon

© Rabindranath Tagore

He whom I enclose with my name is weeping in this dungeon.
I am ever busy building this wall all around; and as this wall goes up into
the sky day by day I lose sight of my true being in its dark shadow.

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Distant Time

© Rabindranath Tagore

I know not from what distant time
thou art ever coming nearer to meet me.
Thy sun and stars can never keep thee hidden from me for aye.

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Defamation

© Rabindranath Tagore

Whey are those tears in your eyes, my child?
How horrid of them to be always scolding you for nothing!
You have stained your fingers and face with ink while writing-
is that why they call you dirty?

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Danse macabre

© Ian Emberson

Death came to me in a mini skirt
As skittish as a kitten ,
And said : " I am come - for your final flirt " ,
But added : " You don't seem smitten ".

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dust

© Chris Mansell

there are times
when you should listen
to the world
I think

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Djangology

© Liam Wilkinson

Finally alone, I pick up the tennis racquet
and dazzle the walls of our house
with my Django Reinhardt impression.

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Dear Deborah

© Deborah Ager

They tell me that your heart
has been found in Iowa,
pumping along Interstate 35.
Do you want it back?

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Don Juan

© Arthur Seymour John Tessimond

Am I a darkness all your flames must light?
A mirror all your eyes must look into -
That dares not yet reflect the neutral sky,
The empty eye of the sky?

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Discovery

© Arthur Seymour John Tessimond

When you are slightly drunk
Things are so close, so friendly.
The road asks to be walked upon,
The road rewards you for walking

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Day Dream

© Arthur Seymour John Tessimond

One day people will touch and talk perhaps
easily,
And loving be natural as breathing and warm as
sunlight,

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Do not weep, maiden, for war is kind

© Stephen Crane

Do not weep, maiden, for war is kind.
Because the lover threw wild hands toward the sky
And the affrighted steed ran on alone,
Do not weep.
War is kind.

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Dandelions

© Craig Raine


Dead dandelions, bald as drumsticks,
swaying by the roadside

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Days of 1986

© Carolyn Kizer

He was believed by his peers to be an important poet,
But his erotic obsession, condemned and strictly forbidden,
Compromised his standing, and led to his ruin.

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Deaf Martha

© Ann Taylor

Poor Martha is old, and her hair is turn'd grey,
And her hearing has left her for many a year;
Ten to one if she knows what it is that you say,
Though she puts her poor wither'd hand close to her ear.

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Denis

© Gerard Manley Hopkins

Denis, whose motionable, alert, most vaulting wit
Caps occasion with an intellectual fit.
Yet Arthur is a Bowman: his three-heeled timber ’ll hit
The bald and b?ld bl?nking gold when ?ll ’s d?ne
Right rooting in the bare butt’s wincing navel in the sight of the sun.
. . . . . . . .