Poems begining by F

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107

Facing the Future

© Mattie Stepanek

Every journey begins
With but a small step.
And every day is a chance
For a new, small step

FORMAT

© A. Ayyappan

Don’t cry out: ‘O! God!’
For He doesn’t have any power of hearing…
No eyes, He has, to see the suffering billions
And not even a single drop of spittle on His tongue…

They came to tell your faults to me,
They named them over one by one;
I laughed aloud when they were done,
I knew them all so well before, --
Oh, they were blind, too blind to see
Your faults had made me love you more.

from Amoretti: Sonnet 67

© Edmund Spenser

Like as a huntsman after weary chase,

Seeing the game from him escap'd away,

Fallen Star

© Tupac Shakur

They could never understand

what u set out 2 do

Fog

© Carl Sandburg

It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.

Five Towns on the B. and O

© Carl Sandburg

BY day … tireless smokestacks … hungry smoky shanties hanging to the slopes … crooning: We get by, that’s all.

By night … all lit up … fire-gold bars, fire-gold flues … and the shanties shaking in clumsy shadows … almost the hills shaking … all crooning: By God, we’re going to find out or know why.

From an Atlas of the Difficult World

© Adrienne Rich

I know you are reading this poem

late, before leaving your office

From a Survivor

© Adrienne Rich

I don't know who we thought we were
that our personalities
could resist the failures of the race

For the Record

© Adrienne Rich

The clouds and the stars didn't wage this war
the brooks gave no information
if the mountain spewed stones of fire into the river
it was not taking sides
the raindrop faintly swaying under the leaf
had no political opinions

For the Dead

© Adrienne Rich

I dreamed I called you on the telephone
to say: Be kinder to yourself
but you were sick and would not answer

Final Notions

© Adrienne Rich

It will not be simple, it will not take long
It will take little time, it will take all your thought
It will take all your heart, it will take all your breath
It will be short, it will not be simple

F?sulan Idyl

© Walter Savage Landor

She drew back
The boon she tendered, and then, finding not
The ribbon at her waist to fix it in,
Dropt it, as loth to drop it, on the rest.

from Flying Home

© Galway Kinnell

that love is hard,
that while many good things are easy, true love is not,
because love is first of all a power,
its own power,
which continually must make its way forward, from night
into day, from transcending union always forward into difficult day.

Flattery

My home if you come
That shall be my honor!
That ladder in the front
Will reach you to your friend

For Murray Hunter, M.D.

Hair and skin one whiteness, eyelids locked,his stillness is the stillness of the bedclothes;his words, not speech but systems emptying out:Death is taking back the small distinctionsbetween man and man and man and anything