Food poems
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Oh, Think Not I Am Faithful To A Vow
© Edna St. Vincent Millay
Oh, think not I am faithful to a vow!
Faithless am I save to love's self alone.
The Leap Of Roushan Beg. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The Fifth)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Mounted on Kyrat strong and fleet,
His chestnut steed with four white feet,
Roushan Beg, called Kurroglou,
Son of the road and bandit chief,
Seeking refuge and relief,
Up the mountain pathway flew.
Strong Beer
© Robert Graves
What do you think
The bravest drink
Under the sky?
Strong beer, said I.
I'd Love To Be A Fairy's Child
© Robert Graves
Children born of fairy stock
Never need for shirt or frock,
Never want for food or fire,
Always get their hearts desire:
Contentment
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
LITTLE I ask; my wants are few;
I only wish a hut of stone,
(A very plain brown stone will do,)
That I may call my own;
And close at hand is such a one,
In yonder street that fronts the sun.
Luna Lake Haiku
© Adrian Green
New moon on the lake.
Your voice and the nightingale
serenade springtime.
Full moon on the lake.
In The Deep Museum
© Anne Sexton
My God, my God, what queer corner am I in?
Didn't I die, blood running down the post,
lungs gagging for air, die there for the sin
of anyone, my sour mouth giving up the ghost?
The Angel Food Dogs
© Anne Sexton
No point? No twist for you
in my white tunnel?
Let me speak plainly,
let me whisper it from the podium--
The Black Art
© Anne Sexton
A woman who writes feels too much,
those trances and portents!
As if cycles and children and islands
weren't enough; as if mourners and gossips
"Manus Animam Pinxit"
© Francis Thompson
Lady who hold'st on me dominion!
Within your spirit's arms I stay me fast
The Touch
© Anne Sexton
The trouble is
that I'd let my gestures freeze.
The trouble was not
in the kitchen or the tulips
but only in my head, my head.
Oh! Mr. Malthus!
© Stephen Leacock
Turn back to Malthus as he walked o'er English Fields and Downs
And walked at night the crooked Streets of crooked English Towns,
Lifeless, undying, Shade or Man, as one that could not die
A hundred years his Shadow fell, a hundred Years to lie,
The Shadow on the Window Pane when Malthus' Ghost went by.
The Wifebeater
© Anne Sexton
There will be mud on the carpet tonight
and blood in the gravy as well.
The wifebeater is out,
the childbeater is out
Hurry Up Please It's Time
© Anne Sexton
What is death, I ask.
What is life, you ask.
I give them both my buttocks,
my two wheels rolling off toward Nirvana.
To A Friend Concerning Several Ladies
© William Carlos Williams
And in the marshes
the crickets run
on the sunny dike's top and
make burrows there, the water
reflects the reeds and the reeds
move on their stalks and rattle drily.
The Last Words Of My English Grandmother
© William Carlos Williams
There were some dirty plates
and a glass of milk
beside her on a small table
near the rank, disheveled bed
The Oats
© Jeppe Aakjaer
Here I stand with tinkling bells galore,
Twenty on each straw, I think, or more.
But the farmer, bless his honest soul,
Calls me oats and speaks of twenty fold.
A Goodnight
© William Carlos Williams
Go to sleepthough of course you will not
to tideless waves thundering slantwise against
strong embankments, rattle and swish of spray
dashed thirty feet high, caught by the lake wind,
