Life poems

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Popcorn, Glass Balls, and Cranberries

© Vachel Lindsay

The Lion is a kingly beast.
He likes a Hindu for a feast.
And if no Hindu he can get,
The lion-family is upset.

A Curse for Kings

© Vachel Lindsay

A curse upon each king who leads his state,
No matter what his plea, to this foul game,
And may it end his wicked dynasty,
And may he die in exile and black shame.

The Firemen's Ball

© Vachel Lindsay

"Many's the heart that's breaking
If we could read them all
After the ball is over."

Walking to School, 1964 by David Wojahn : American Life in Poetry #215 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureat

© Ted Kooser

To commemorate Mother's Day, here's a lovely poem by David Wojahn of Virginia, remembering his mother after forty years.

Walking to School, 1964

We live in dreams as well as deeds, in thoughts as well as acts;
And life through things we feel, not know, is realized the most;
The conquered are the conquerors, despite the face of facts,
If they still feel their cause was just who fought for it and lost.

The Brave Days To Be.

© Arthur Henry Adams

I looked far in the future; down the dim
Echoless avenue of silent years,
And through the cold grey haze of Time I saw
The fair fulfilment of my spacious dream.

Tears

© Robert Fuller Murray

Mourn that which will not come again,
The joy, the strength of early years.
Bow down thy head, and let thy tears
Water the grave where hope lies slain.

Inscription For The Tomb Of Mr. Hamilton

© William Cowper

Pause here, and think; a monitory rhyme
Demands one moment of thy fleeting time.
Consult life's silent clock, thy bounding vein;
Seems it to say --"Health here has long to reign?"

The Strength of the Lonely

© Vachel Lindsay

The moon's a monk, unmated,
Who walks his cell, the sky.
His strength is that of heaven-vowed men
Who all life's flames defy.

The Adieu

© George Gordon Byron

Written Under The Impression That The Author Would Soon Die.

Adieu, thou Hill! where early joy
Spread roses o'er my brow;

The Song of the Darling River

© Henry Lawson

The skies are brass and the plains are bare,
Death and ruin are everywhere -
And all that is left of the last year's flood
Is a sickly stream on the grey-black mud;
The salt-springs bubble and the quagmires quiver,
And - this is the dirge of the Darling River:

The Stealing Of The Mare - VII

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Said the Narrator:
And when they had lit the fire, while Alia watched the kindling, behold, her fear was great, and her eyes looked to the right and to the left hand, because that Abu Zeyd had promised her that he would return to the camp; and while she was in this wise, suddenly she saw Abu Zeyd standing in the midst of the Arabs who were around her. And he was in disguisement as a dervish, or one of those who ask alms. And he saw that she was about to speak. But he signed to her that she should be silent: as it were he would say, ``Fear not, for I am here.'' And when she was sure that it was indeed he Abu Zeyd and none other, then smiled she on him very sweetly, and said, ``Thine be the victory, and I will be thy ransom. Nor shall thy enemies prevail against thee.'' But he answered with a sign, ``Of a surety thou shalt see somewhat that shall astonish thee.'' And this he said as the flames of the fire broke forth.
Now the cause of the coming of Abu Zeyd to the place was in this wise. After that he had gone away, and had taken with him the mare, and that his mind had entered into its perplexity as to what might befall Alia from her father, lest he should seize on her and inquire what had happened, and why she had cared nothing for her own people or for her wounded brother, and why she had cried to Abu Zeyd, then said he to himself, ``Of a surety I must return to her, and ascertain the event.'' And looking about him, he made discovery of a cave known as yet to no man, and he placed in it the mare, and gathered grass for her, and closed the door of the cave with stones. Then clothing himself as a dervish, he made his plan how he should return to the tents of Agheyl. And forthwith he found Alia in the straits already told, and he made his thought known to her by signs, and by signs she gave him to understand her answers.
And at this point the Narrator began again to sing, and it was in the following verses:

Herbert

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

AH! you tricksy little elf,
How you idolize yourself!
And believe the world was made
Like a gay-hued masquerade,

The Hope of the Resurrection

Though I have watched so many mourners weep
O'er the real dead, in dull earth laid asleep
Those dead seemed but the shadows of my days
That passed and left me in the sun's bright rays.

Heroism

There was a time when Ætna's silent fire

Slept unperceived, the mountain yet entire;

The Longest Day

On yonder hills soft twilight dwells

And Hesper burns where sunset dies,

The Ideal

Spirit of Dreams! When many a toilsome height

Shut paradise from exiled Adams sight,

The Perfect Marriage

I hate this yoke; for the world's sake here put it on:
Knowing 'twill weigh as much on you till life is gone.
Knowing you love your freedom dear, as I love mine
Knowing that love unchained has been our life's great wine:
Our one great wine (yet spent too soon, and serving none;
Of the two cups free love at last the deadly one).