Poems begining by M
/ page 26 of 130 /
Marching (As Seen From the Left File)
© Isaac Rosenberg
My eyes catch ruddy necks
Sturdily pressed back -
My Idle Dreams Roam Far
© Li Yu
My idle dreams roam far,
To the southern land where spring is fragrant.
Macaw and Little Miss
© Ted Hughes
In a cage of wire-ribs
The size of a man's head, the macaw bristles in a staring
Mira Danced with Ankle Bells
© Mirabai
Mira danced with ankle-bells on her feet.
People said Mira was mad; my mother-in-law
My Heart's Song
© Aleksis Kivi
Grove of Tuoni, grove of evening,
There a sandy cradle is waiting,
There I will carry my child.
Maidens Dancing In Moonlight
© Sappho
Then, as the broad moon rose on high,
The maidens stood the altar nigh;
And some in graceful measure
The well-loved spot danced round,
With lightsome footsteps treading
The soft and grassy ground.
Matter For Gratitude
© Ambrose Bierce
O God, forgive them all, from Stoneman down,
Thy smile who construe and expound Thy frown,
And fall with saintly grace upon their knees
To render thanks when Thou dost only sneeze.
More Sonnets At Christmas III
© Allen Tate
Nobody said that he could be a plumber,
Carpenter, clerk, bus-driver, bombardier;
Let little boys go into violent slumber,
Aegean squall and squalor where their fear
Is of an enemy in remote oceans
Unstalked by Christ: these are the better notions.
Meditation
© Alice Meynell
No sudden thing of glory and fear
Was the Lord's coming; but the dear
Slow Nature's days followed each other
To form the Saviour from his Mother
--One of the children of the year.
Music
© Kenneth Slessor
I
MUSIC, on the air's edge, rides alone,
Plumed like empastured Caesars of the sky
With a god's helmet; now, in the gold dye
Mia Carlotta
© Thomas Augustine Daly
GIUSEPPE, da barber, ees greata for "mash,"
He gotta da bigga, da blacka mustache,
Miners
© Wilfred Owen
There was a whispering in my hearth,
A sigh of the coal.
Grown wistful of a former earth
It might recall.
My Father’s Left Hand by David Bottoms : American Life in Poetry #235 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet La
© Ted Kooser
I tell my writing students that their most important task is to pay attention to what’s going on around them. God is in the details, as we say. Here David Bottoms, the Poet Laureate of Georgia, tells us a great deal about his father by showing us just one of his hands.
My Father’s Left Hand
Sometimes my old man’s hand flutters over his knee, flaps
Mangrove
© John Blight
I saw its periscope in the tide;
its torpedo-seed seeking the soft side
of the island, the grey mud-bank.
Manipulation
© Richard Harris Barham
Oh, my head! my head! my head!
Lack! for my poor unfortunate head!
Midnight
© James Russell Lowell
The moon shines white and silent
On the mist, which, like a tide
Of some enchanted ocean,
O'er the wide marsh doth glide,
Spreading its ghost-like billows
Silently far and wide.
Midnight And Moonlight
© Roderic Quinn
AS one singled out from his fellows,
Enchanted I roam
Through night with its music and moonlight,
And sea-sheen and foam.
Mason And Slidell: A Yankee Idyll
© James Russell Lowell
Wut! they ha'n't hanged 'em?
Then their wits is gone!
Thet's the sure way to make a goose a swan!
