Fear poems
/ page 224 of 454 /
Sordello: Book the Third
© Robert Browning
Whereat he rose.
The level wind carried above the firs
Clouds, the irrevocable travellers,
Onward.
two south coast poems (a) this morning i came within sound of the sea
© Rg Gregory
for a man whose eyes till now were a bed of rock
whose hands were drier than deserts
the sea's voice drove fear up through the valley
the tributaries meandering inside me longing for outlet
shrivelled even as their own courses became straight
adventure
© Rg Gregory
just as the dusk comes hooting
down through the shivering black leaves
of the swinging trees we (the brave ones
swaggering like marshalls through a lynch-mob)
crash-bang our way to the door
of the so-called haunted house
eight roundels
© Rg Gregory
(roundel: variation of the rondeau
consisting of three stanzas of three
lines each, linked together with but
two rhymes and a refrain at the end
of the first and third group)
Paradise Lost : Book II.
© John Milton
High on a throne of royal state, which far
Outshone the wealth or Ormus and of Ind,
legs rivers and age
© Rg Gregory
with landbound legs a wish
for the easy flow of a river - not
the clambering up crags to seek
more favour from the sun
temporising with the eternal
© Rg Gregory
i dont know what youre up to
yet but for me
you wouldnt exist
(not on this page anyway -
absinthe and stained glass
© Rg Gregory
stained glass (you think) must be bystander
its leaded eyes seek far not near
the day's bleak dirt it learns to shrug off
joy-notes
© Rg Gregory
when the time comes
yield
to the forces outside you
images simply
of your inner compulsions
your tiger
© Rg Gregory
in your night's hollow
the tiger stalks
black grasses have licked
it into nothingness
Aspiring Miss DeLaine
© Francis Bret Harte
(A CHEMICAL NARRATIVE)
Certain facts which serve to explain
To Alexander Neville
© Barnabe Googe
The little fish that in the stream doth fleet,
With broad forth-stretched fins for his disport,
A Story Of Doom: Book VI.
© Jean Ingelow
"Now to-day
One cometh, yea, an harmless man, a fool,
Who boasts he hath a message from our God,
And lest that you, for bravery of heart
And stoutness, being angered with his prate,
Should lift a hand, and kill him, I am here."
the wounded angel
© Rg Gregory
those who bear the wounded angel
are they honoured or destroyed
far beyond their comprehension
are the warfares of the void
Revenge
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
'Ah! quit me not yet, for the wind whistles shrill,
Its blast wanders mournfully over the hill,
The thunders wild voice rattles madly above,
You will not then, cannot then, leave me my love.'--
night-piece
© Rg Gregory
what's that
i'm awake
a bang like a door or a foot
knocking a chair
who's there
