Life poems
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The Octopi Jars
© Michael Burch
Long-vacant eyes
now lodged in clear glass,
a-swim with pale arms
as delicate as angels ...
To Flower
© Michael Burch
We are not long for this earth, I know
you and I, all our petals incurled,
till a night of pale brilliance, moonflower aglow.
Is there love anywhere in this strange world?
The Folly of Wisdom
© Michael Burch
She is wise in the way that children are wise,
looking at me with such knowing, grave eyes
I must bend down to her to understand.
But she only smiles, and takes my hand.
At Wilfred Owens Grave
© Michael Burch
What the poet sees,
he sees as a swimmer underwater,
watching the shoreline blur,
sees through his breaths weightless bubbles ...
Both worlds grow obscure.
To Qiwu Qian Bound Home After Failing an Examination.
© Wang Wei
In a happy reign there should be no hermits;
The wise and able should consult together....
So you, a man of the eastern mountains,
Gave up your life of picking herbs
A Song of a Girl from Loyang
© Wang Wei
There's a girl from Loyang in the door across the street,
She looks fifteen, she may be a little older.
...While her master rides his rapid horse with jade bit an bridle,
Her handmaid brings her cod-fish in a golden plate.
A Farmhouse on the Wei River
© Wang Wei
In the slant of the sun on the country-side,
Cattle and sheep trail home along the lane;
And a rugged old man in a thatch door
Leans on a staff and thinks of his son, the herdboy.
The Smile on the Face of a Kouros
© William Bronk
This boy, of course, was dead, whatever that
might mean. And nobly dead. I think we should feel
he was nobly dead. He fell in battle, perhaps,
and this carved stone remembers him
Penelope to Ulysses.
© Anne Killigrew
REturn my dearest Lord, at length return,
Let me no longer your sad absence mourn,
Ilium in Dust, does no more Work afford,
No more Employment for your Wit or Sword.
The Discontent.
© Anne Killigrew
I.
HEre take no Care, take here no Care, my Muse,
Nor ought of Art or Labour use:
But let thy Lines rude and unpolisht go,
An Invective against Gold
© Anne Killigrew
Again, I see, the Heavenly Fair despis'd,
A Hagg like Hell, with Gold, more highly priz'd;
Mens Faith betray'd, their Prince and Country Sold,
Their God deny'd, all for the Idol Gold.
On Death.
© Anne Killigrew
No subtile Serpents in the Grave betray,
Worms on the Body there, not Soul do prey;
No Vice there Tempts, no Terrors there afright,
No Coz'ning Sin affords a false delight:
No vain Contentions do that Peace annoy,
No feirce Alarms break the lasting Joy.
To the Queen.
© Anne Killigrew
I saw that Pitch was not sublime,
Compar'd with this which now I climb;
His Glories sunk, and were unseen,
When once appear'd the Heav'n-born Queen:
Victories, Laurels, Conquer'd Kings,
Took place among inferiour things.
Current
© Anna Piutti
Fibers,
flesh. Electricitytransudes through a
sigh.Sun-bordered clouds migrate from
your eyes to my core:swooshing of curtains, temples
Destiny
© Gregory Corso
They deliver the edicts of Godwithout delayAnd are exempt from apprehensionfrom detentionAnd with their God-givenPetasus, Caduceus, and Talariaferry like bolts of lightningunhindered between the tribunalsof Space & Time
The Messenger-Spiritin human fleshis assigned a dependable,self-reliant, versatile,thoroughly poet existenceupon its sojourn in life
It does not knockor ring the bellor telephoneWhen the Messenger-Spiritcomes to your doorthough lockedIt'll enter like an electric midwifeand deliver the message
There is no tellthroughout the agesthat a Messenger-Spiritever stumbled into darkness
The Sale of Saint Thomas
© Lascelles Abercrombie
Captain Well, I hope so.
There's threatening in the weather. Have you a mind
To hug your belly to the slanted deck,
Like a louse on a whip-top, when the boat
Spins on an axlie in the hissing gales?
Hymn to Love
© Lascelles Abercrombie
We are thine, O Love, being in thee and made of thee,
As théou, Léove, were the déep thought
And we the speech of the thought; yea, spoken are we,
Thy fires of thought out-spoken:
Emblems of Love
© Lascelles Abercrombie
And mine is all like one rapt faculty,
As it were listening to the love in thee,
My whole mortality trembling to take
Thy body like heard singing of thy spirit.
Minstrelsy
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
For ever, since my childish looks
Could rest on Nature's pictured books;
For ever, since my childish tongue
Could name the themes our bards have sung;
