Poems begining by D
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Dangerous Consequences
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Deeper and bolder truths be careful, my friends, of avowing;
For as soon as ye do all the world on ye will fall.
Die in shame!
© John Matthew
You hide your face in shame,
But I can see your private parts,
Have you no contrition,
To expose yourself, shamelessly, thus?
Delhi A Re-visitation
© John Matthew
Its akin to visiting my foster mother, today,
That I am returning to you, mother city, after twenty years,
I look at your broad, bereft blood-stained streets, mater,
Through which emperors, prime ministers cavalcaded,
In victory and defeat, through gates and triumphal arches,
That murmur of the pains of your rape and impregnation.
Dear Heart, Why Will You Use Me So?
© James Joyce
Dear heart, why will you use me so?
Dear eyes that gently me upbraid,
Still are you beautiful -- - but O,
How is your beauty raimented!
Death Of The Kapowsin Tavern
© Richard Hugo
I can't ridge it back again from char.
Not one board left. Only ash a cat explores
and shattered glass smoked black and strung
about from the explosion I believe
Degrees Of Gray In Philipsburg
© Richard Hugo
You might come here Sunday on a whim.
Say your life broke down. The last good kiss
you had was years ago. You walk these streets
laid out by the insane, past hotels
Down Stream
© Lucy Maud Montgomery
Comrades, up! Let us row down stream in this first rare dawnlight,
While far in the clear north-west the late moon whitens and wanes;
Before us the sun will rise, deep-purpling headland and islet,
It is well to meet him thus, with the life astir in our veins!
Down Home
© Lucy Maud Montgomery
Down home to-night the moonshine falls
Across a hill with daisies pied,
The pear tree by the garden gate
Beckons with white arms like a bride.
Democracy
© Leonard Cohen
It's coming through a hole in the air,
from those nights in Tiananmen Square.
It's coming from the feel
that it ain't exactly real,
Dance Me To The End Of Love
© Leonard Cohen
Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin
Dance me through the panic 'til I'm gathered safely in
Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove
Dance me to the end of love
Discontents In Devon
© Robert Herrick
More discontents I never had
Since I was born, than here;
Where I have been, and still am, sad,
In this dull Devonshire.
Draw-gloves
© Robert Herrick
At draw-gloves we'll play,
And prithee let's lay
A wager, and let it be this :
Who first to the sum
Of twenty shall come,
Shall have for his winning a kiss.
Departure of the Good Daemon
© Robert Herrick
What can I do in poetry,
Now the good spirit's gone from me?
Why, nothing now but lonely sit
And over-read what I have writ.
Delight In Disorder
© Robert Herrick
A sweet disorder in the dress
Kindles in clothes a wantonness;
A lawn about the shoulders thrown
Into a fine distraction;
Dreams
© Robert Herrick
Here we are all, by day; by night we're hurl'd
By dreams, each one into a several world.
Divination By A Daffodil
© Robert Herrick
When a daffodil I see,
Hanging down his head towards me,
Guess I may what I must be:
First, I shall decline my head;
Secondly, I shall be dead;
Lastly, safely buried.
Dark Night
© Frank Bidart
(John of the Cross)
In a dark night, when the light
burning was the burning of love (fortuitous
night, fated, free,--)
Dedication
© Wole Soyinka
Earth will not share the rafter's envy; dung floors
Break, not the gecko's slight skin, but its fall
Taste this soil for death and plumb her deep for life
Dynamiter
© Carl Sandburg
I SAT with a dynamiter at supper in a German saloon
eating steak and onions.
And he laughed and told stories of his wife and children
and the cause of labor and the working class.
Dusty Doors
© Carl Sandburg
CHILD of the Aztec gods,
how long must we listen here,
how long before we go?
