Imagination poems

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The Everlasting Gospel

© William Blake

The vision of Christ that thou dost see

Is my visions greatest enemy.

Mike Teavee...

© Roald Dahl

The most important thing we've learned,

So far as children are concerned,

Five Letters To My Mother

© Nizar Qabbani

Good morning sweetheart.

Good morning my Saint of a sweetheart.

The Falcon

© Elinor Wylie

Why should my sleepy heart be taught
To whistle mocking-bird replies?
This is another bird you've caught,
Soft-feathered, with a falcon's eyes.

The Lady's Dressing Room

© Jonathan Swift

Five hours, (and who can do it less in?)
By haughty Celia spent in dressing;
The goddess from her chamber issues,
Arrayed in lace, brocades, and tissues.

Poetry

© Marianne Clarke Moore

I, too, dislike it: there are things that are important beyond all
this fiddle.
Reading it, however, with a perfect contempt for it, one
discovers in

Another Weeping Woman

© Wallace Stevens

Pour the unhappiness out
From your too bitter heart,
Which grieving will not sweeten.

On The Boulevard

© Robert William Service

Oh, it's pleasant sitting here,
Seeing all the people pass;
You beside your bock of beer,
I behind my demi-tasse.

Imagination

© Robert William Service

A gaunt and hoary slab of stone
I found in desert place,
And wondered why it lay alone
In that abandoned place.

The Choice

© Robert William Service

Some inherit manly beauty,
Some come into worldly wealth;
Some have lofty sense of duty,
Others boast exultant health.

At The Other End Of The Telescope

© George Bradley

the people are very small and shrink,
dwarves on the way to netsuke hell
bound for a flea circus in full
retreat toward sub-atomic particles--

So in despite of sorrow lately learn'd
I still hold true to truth since thou art true,
Nor wail the woe which thou to joy hast turn'd
Nor come the heavenly sun and bathing blue
To my life's need more splendid and unearn'd
Than hath thy gift outmatch'd desire and due.

Melancholia

© Robert Seymour Bridges

The sickness of desire, that in dark days
Looks on the imagination of despair,
Forgetteth man, and stinteth God his praise;
Nor but in sleep findeth a cure for care.

Paradise Lost: Book 06

© John Milton

All night the dreadless Angel, unpursued,
Through Heaven's wide champain held his way; till Morn,
Waked by the circling Hours, with rosy hand
Unbarred the gates of light. There is a cave

Paradise Lost: Book 02

© John Milton

High on a throne of royal state, which far
Outshone the wealth or Ormus and of Ind,
Or where the gorgeous East with richest hand
Showers on her kings barbaric pearl and gold,

Paradise Lost: Book 05

© John Milton

Now Morn, her rosy steps in the eastern clime
Advancing, sowed the earth with orient pearl,
When Adam waked, so customed; for his sleep
Was aery-light, from pure digestion bred,

Earthfast

Architects plant their imagination, weld their poems on rock,
Clamp them to the skidding rim of the world and anchor them down to its core;
Leave more than the painter's or poet's snail-bright trail on a friable leaf;
Can build their chrysalis round them - stand in their sculpture's belly.

A Large Number

Four billion people on this earth,
but my imagination is the way it's always been:
bad with large numbers.
It is still moved by particularity.

Pi

The admirable number pi:
three point one four one.
All the following digits are also just a start,
five nine two because it never ends.

Bishop Blougram's Apology

So, you despise me, Mr. Gigadibs.
No deprecation,--nay, I beg you, sir!
Beside 't is our engagement: don't you know,
I promised, if you'd watch a dinner out,
We'd see truth dawn together?--truth that peeps
Over the glasses' edge when dinner's done,