Poems begining by M
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Miracles.
© Walt Whitman
WHY! who makes much of a miracle?
As to me, I know of nothing else but miracles,
Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan,
Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the sky,
Making The Lion For All It's Got -- A Ballad
© Allen Ginsberg
A lion met America
in the road
they stared at each other
two figures on the crossroads in the desert.
Meeting
© William Butler Yeats
Hidden by old age awhile
In masker's cloak and hood,
Each hating what the other loved,
Face to face we stood:
'That I have met with such,' said he,
'Bodes me little good.'
Model For The Laureate
© William Butler Yeats
On thrones from China to Peru
All sorts of kings have sat
That men and women of all sorts
proclaimed both good and great;
Mohini Chatterjee
© William Butler Yeats
I asked if I should pray.
But the Brahmin said,
'pray for nothing, say
Every night in bed,
Michael Robartes And The Dancer
© William Butler Yeats
He. Put it so;
But bear in mind your lover's wage
Is what your looking-glass can show,
And that he will turn green with rage
At all that is not pictured there.
Mad As The Mist And Snow
© William Butler Yeats
Bolt and bar the shutter,
For the foul winds blow:
Our minds are at their best this night,
And I seem to know
That everything outside us is
Mad as the mist and snow.
Man And The Echo
© William Butler Yeats
Man. In a cleft that's christened Alt
Under broken stone I halt
At the bottom of a pit
That broad noon has never lit,
My Own
© Dorothy Parker
Then let them point my every tear,
And let them mock and moan;
Another week, another year,
And I'll be with my own
Midnight
© Dorothy Parker
The stars are soft as flowers, and as near;
The hills are webs of shadow, slowly spun;
No separate leaf or single blade is here-
All blend to one.
Men
© Dorothy Parker
They hail you as their morning star
Because you are the way you are.
If you return the sentiment,
They'll try to make you different;
My Dear Mistress Has a Heart
© John Wilmot
My dear mistress has a heart
Soft as those kind looks she gave me,
When with love's resistless art,
And her eyes, she did enslave me;
Moonlight
© Vita Sackville-West
-- Then earth's great architecture swells
Among her mountains and her fells
Under the moon to amplitude
Massive and primitive and rude:
Music To Me Is Like Days
© Les Murray
Once played to attentive faces
music has broken its frame
its bodice of always-weak laces
the entirely promiscuous art
Memento
© Yevgeny Yevtushenko
Like a reminder of this life
of trams, sun, sparrows,
and the flighty uncontrolledness
of streams leaping like thermometers,
Mother, Among The Dustbins
© Stevie Smith
Mother, among the dustbins and the manure
I feel the measure of my humanity, an allure
As of the presence of God, I am sure
Marengo
© Mary Oliver
Out of the sump rise the marigolds.
From the rim of the marsh, muslin with mosquitoes,
rises the egret, in his cloud-cloth.
Through the soft rain, like mist, and mica,
the withered acres of moss begin again.
