Poems begining by G
/ page 50 of 52 /Ghost
© Robinson Jeffers
There is a jaggle of masonry here, on a small hill
Above the gray-mouthed Pacific, cottages and a thick-walled tower, all made of rough sea rock
And Portland cement. I imagine, fifty years from now,
A mist-gray figure moping about this place in mad moonlight, examining the mortar-joints, pawing the
Glass
© Robert Francis
Words of a poem should be glass
But glass so simple-subtle its shape
Is nothing but the shape of what it holds.
Gamblers All
© Charles Bukowski
you find the turn-off, drive through the most dangerous
part of town, feel momentarily wonderful as Mozart works
his way into your brain and slides down along your bones and
out through your shoes.
Girl In A Miniskirt Reading The Bible Outside My Window
© Charles Bukowski
Sunday, I am eating a
grapefruit, church is over at the Russian
Orthadox to the
west.
Gyroscope
© Howard Nemerov
This admirable gadget, when it is
Wound on a string and spun with steady force,
Maintains its balance on most any smooth
Surface, pleasantly humming as it goes.
Goodbye!
© Richard Aldington
Come, thrust your hands in the warm earth
And feel her strength through all your veins;
Breathe her full odors, taste her mouth,
Which laughs away imagined pains;
Touch her life's womb, yet know
This substance makes your grave also.
Goodtime Jesus
© Edward Taylor
Jesus got up one day a little later than usual. He had been dream-
ing so deep there was nothing left in his head. What was it?
A nightmare, dead bodies walking all around him, eyes rolled
back, skin falling off. But he wasn't afraid of that. It was a beau-
tiful day. How 'bout some coffee? Don't mind if I do. Take a little
ride on my donkey, I love that donkey. Hell, I love everybody.
God's-Acre
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I like that ancient Saxon phrase, which calls
The burial-ground God's-Acre! It is just;
It consecrates each grave within its walls,
And breathes a benison o'er the sleeping dust.
Guest am I to have
© Emily Dickinson
Guest am I to have
Light my northern room
Why to cordiality so averse to come
Other friends adjourn
Growth of Man -- like Growth of Nature --
© Emily Dickinson
Growth of Man -- like Growth of Nature --
Gravitates within --
Atmosphere, and Sun endorse it --
Bit it stir -- alone --
Grief is a Mouse --
© Emily Dickinson
Grief is a Mouse --
And chooses Wainscot in the Breast
For His Shy House --
And baffles quest --
Great Caesar! Condescend
© Emily Dickinson
Great Caesar! Condescend
The Daisy, to receive,
Gathered by Cato's Daughter,
With your majestic leave!
Good to hide, and hear 'em hunt!
© Emily Dickinson
Good to hide, and hear 'em hunt!
Better, to be found,
If one care to, that is,
The Fox fits the Hound --
God made no act without a cause,
© Emily Dickinson
God made no act without a cause,
Nor heart without an aim,
Our inference is premature,
Our premises to blame.
God made a little Gentian
© Emily Dickinson
God made a little Gentian --
It tried -- to be a Rose --
And failed -- and all the Summer laughed --
But just before the Snows
Go thy great way!
© Emily Dickinson
Go thy great way!
The Stars thou meetst
Are even as Thyself --
For what are Stars but Asterisks
To point a human Life?
Go slow, my soul, to feed thyself
© Emily Dickinson
Go slow, my soul, to feed thyself
Upon his rare approach --
Go rapid, lest Competing Death
Prevail upon the Coach --
Go not too near a House of Rose --
© Emily Dickinson
Go not too near a House of Rose --
The depredation of a Breeze --
Or inundation of a Dew
Alarms its walls away --
Glowing is her Bonnet,
© Emily Dickinson
Glowing is her Bonnet,
Glowing is her Cheek,
Glowing is her Kirtle,
Yet she cannot speak.
Glory is that bright tragic thing
© Emily Dickinson
Glory is that bright tragic thing
That for an instant
Means Dominion --
Warms some poor name