Poems begining by I
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In the thicket's shade
© Kobayashi Issa
In the thicket's shade
a woman by herself
singing the rice-planting song.
In these latter-day
© Kobayashi Issa
In these latter-day,
Degenerate times,
Cherry-blossoms everywhere!
It once happened
© Kobayashi Issa
It once happened
that a child was spared punishment
through earnest solicitation.
In Bertram's Garden
© Donald Justice
Jane looks down at her organdy skirt
As if it somehow were the thing disgraced,
For being there, on the floor, in the dirt,
And she catches it up about her waist,
Smooths it out along one hip,
And pulls it over the crumpled slip.
Implications of One Plus One
© Marge Piercy
Sometimes we collide, tectonic plates merging,
continents shoving, crumpling down into the molten
veins of fire deep in the earth and raising
tons of rock into jagged crests of Sierra.
I Remember, I Remember
© Thomas Hood
I remember, I remember,
The house where I was born,
The little window where the sun
Came peeping in at morn;
In Memory of John Lothrop Motley
© William Cullen Bryant
SLEEP, Motley, with the great of ancient days,
Who wrote for all the years that yet shall be!
In Memory Of My Mother
© Patrick Kavanagh
I do not think of you lying in the wet clay
Of a Monaghan graveyard; I see
You walking down a lane among the poplars
On your way to the station, or happily
If You Only Knew
© Robert Desnos
Far from me and like the stars, the sea and all the trappings of poetic myth,
Far from me but here all the same without your knowing,
Far from me and even more silent because I imagine you endlessly.
Far from me, my lovely mirage and eternal dream, you cannot know.
I Have Dreamed of You so Much
© Robert Desnos
I have dreamed of you so much that you are no longer real.
Is there still time for me to reach your breathing body, to kiss your mouth and make
your dear voice come alive again?
If I were dead
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
'IF I were dead, you'd sometimes say, Poor Child!'
The dear lips quiver'd as they spake,
And the tears brake
From eyes which, not to grieve me, brightly smiled.
In A Light Time
© Philip Levine
The alder shudders in the April winds
off the moon. No one is awake and yet
sunlight streams across
the hundred still beds
In A Vacant House
© Philip Levine
Someone was calling someone;
now they've stopped. Beyond the glass
the rose vines quiver as in
a light wind, but there is none:
I Sing The Body Electric
© Philip Levine
People sit numbly at the counter
waiting for breakfast or service.
Today it's Hartford, Connecticut
more than twenty-five years after
In The New Sun
© Philip Levine
A row of sparkling carp
iced in the new sun, odor
of first love, of childhood,
the fingers held to the nose,
or hours while the clock hummed.
I Hear America Singing
© Walt Whitman
I HEAR America singing, the varied carols I hear;
Those of mechanics-each one singing his, as it should be, blithe and
