Good poems
/ page 451 of 545 /
From: An Evening Revery
© William Cullen Bryant
FROM AN UNFINISHED POEM
The summer day is closed--the sun is set:
Digging
© Seamus Justin Heaney
Under my window, a clean rasping sound
When the spade sinks into gravelly ground:
My father, digging. I look down
Grandmothers Teaching
© Alfred Austin
``Grandmother dear, you do not know; you have lived the old-world life,
Under the twittering eaves of home, sheltered from storm and strife;
Rocking cradles, and covering jams, knitting socks for baby feet,
Or piecing together lavender bags for keeping the linen sweet:
Daughter, wife, and mother in turn, and each with a blameless breast,
Then saying your prayers when the nightfall came, and quietly dropping to rest.
The Quidditie
© George Herbert
My God, a verse is not a crown;
No point of honor, or gay suit;
No hawk, or banquet, or renown,
Nor a good sword, nor yet a lute:
What a weekend
© Ivan Donn Carswell
What a weekend, it certainly defied all the pundits trends,
the World Game French were trashed by Versace and petulance,
the Wallabies by a graphic haka, while Wimbledon saw the Amazons
revenge and Switzerlands answer was Roger Federer in eminence.
To win a game
© Ivan Donn Carswell
How do you win a football game? Not by skill alone or clever plays,
in modern days the game has changed and subterfuge and actors
ways will pave the path to glory. Fitness pays a fair reward to keep
a fleetness in the feet, a clearness in the head, and special food
To keep the ambience alive
© Ivan Donn Carswell
When you thanked me for the day I felt ashamed,
I couldnt say it wasnt much because it was for you,
I had enjoyed it too although it was another day
like any other day weve had before in our association.
Time to play
© Ivan Donn Carswell
It is a pristine page, clean on the blue screen
where I compose, I dont expect it to stay that way
as words glow from blunt, abused fingers, as insistent
sounds in my head translate into sentence structures,
This Window is
© Ivan Donn Carswell
This window is confidence,
documenting proceedings,
capturing moments,
cleansing views
Malcolm's Katie: A Love Story - Part II.
© Isabella Valancy Crawford
O, Love builds on the azure sea,
And Love builds on the golden sand;
And Love builds on the rose-wing'd cloud,
And sometimes Love builds on the land.
The same embrace
© Ivan Donn Carswell
We talked with family last night, not mine or yours
specifically but ours, the ones we love familiarly. When
little Jake (though not so little now) was heard to say ,
Goodbye, I gotta go, it was like our hearts were breaking;
Advice To Psychologists
© Kenneth Slessor
YOU spies that pierce the mind with trenches,
Feasting your eyes through private panes,
Who, not content with Heavenly stenches,
Insist on taking up the drains,
One of the Bo'sun's Yarns
© John Masefield
Loafin' around in Sailor Town, a-bluin' o' my advance,
I met a derelict donkyman who led me a merry dance,
Till he landed me 'n blanched me fair in the bar of a rum-saloon,
'N' there he spun me a juice of a yarn to this-yer brand of tune.
Sonnet XI. On The Detraction Which Followed My Writing Certain Treatises
© John Milton
A Book was writ of late call'd Tetrachordon;
And wov'n close, both matter, form and stile;
The Subject new: it walk'd the Town a while,
Numbring good intellects; now seldom por'd on.
Terra nullis ignorata
© Ivan Donn Carswell
We came to find the place contained
in legendary tracts, the hidden land
of fulsome wealth that we had sorely lacked,
an empty land of winsome dreams.
Tales in the beginning
© Ivan Donn Carswell
In the beginning that was all there was,
a new forged social unity of the self aware
in a community of need, a bare structure
to belie the complexities to come,
but it was where the tales all must have begun.
Silvered In The Dying Light
© Ivan Donn Carswell
Silvered in the dying light she lies
a silent sleeping twinkle coloured Eve
who heaves and breathes a sinuous sigh
beneath her oiled and shimmering skin.
