Good poems
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Elegiac Stanzas In Memory Of My Brother, John Commander Of The E. I. Companys Ship The Earl Of Aber
© William Wordsworth
I
THE Sheep-boy whistled loud, and lo!
That instant, startled by the shock,
The Buzzard mounted from the rock
A Dedication - To K.S.G.
© Henry Timrod
Fair Saxon, in my lover's creed,
My love were smaller than your meed,
Sonnet: They Dub Thee Idler
© Henry Timrod
They dub thee idler, smiling sneeringly,
And why? because, forsooth, so many moons,
A Liz Town Humorist
© James Whitcomb Riley
Settin' round the stove, last night,
Down at Wess's store, was me
First Thanksgiving
© Sharon Olds
When she comes back, from college, I will see
the skin of her upper arms, cool,
Discontinuous Poems
© Fernando António Nogueira Pessoa
The frightful reality of things
Is my everyday discovery.
Each thing is what it is.
How can I explain to anyone how much
I rejoice over this, and find it enough?
I Am an Atheist Who Says His Prayers
© Ishmael Reed
I am an atheist who says his prayers.
I am an anarchist, and a full professor at that. I take the loyalty oath.
In Celebration
© Mark Strand
You sit in a chair, touched by nothing, feeling
the old self become the older self, imagining
Prejudice
© Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
How strangely blind is prejudice, the Negro's greatest foe!
It never fails to see the wrong but naught of good can know.
'Tis blind to all that's lofty, yea, to truth it is opposed,
Degrading things will ope his eyes, while good will keep them closed.
The Snow Is Deep on the Ground
© Kenneth Patchen
The snow is deep on the ground.
Always the light falls
Softly down on the hair of my belovèd.
St. Peter Claver
© Toi Derricotte
On holy cards St. Peter’s face is olive-toned, his hair near kinky;
I thought he was one of us who pass between the rich and poor, the light and dark.
Now I read he was “a Spanish Jesuit priest who labored for the salvation of the African Negroes and the abolition of the slave trade.”
I was tricked again, robbed of my patron,
and left with a debt to another white man.
The Eviction
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Unruly tenant of my heart,
Full fain would I be quit of thee.
I've played too long a losing part.
Thou bringest me neither gold nor fee.
Phantasmagoria Canto I (The Trystyng )
© Lewis Carroll
ONE winter night, at half-past nine,
Cold, tired, and cross, and muddy,
I had come home, too late to dine,
And supper, with cigars and wine,
Was waiting in the study.
The Posture
© Lucretius
Of like importance is the posture too,
In which the genial feat of Love we do:
