Poems begining by M

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My Erotic Double

© John Ashbery

I said it but I can hide it. But I choose not to. 
Thank you. You are a very pleasant person. 
Thank you. You are too.

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Mothers

© Nikki Giovanni

the last time i was home
to see my mother we kissed
exchanged pleasantries
and unpleasantries pulled a warm 
comforting silence around
us and read separate books

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Man in the Street or Hand Over Mouth

© Heather McHugh

He claps a hand

Across the gaping hole—

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Mingus in Diaspora

© William Matthews

You could say, I suppose, that he ate his way out, 
like the prisoner who starts a tunnel with a spoon,
or you could say he was one in whom nothing was lost, 
who took it all in, or that he was big as a bus.

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Music when Soft Voices Die (To --)

© Percy Bysshe Shelley

 Music, when soft voices die,
Vibrates in the memory—
Odours, when sweet violets sicken,
Live within the sense they quicken.

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Maud; A Monodrama (from Part I)

© Alfred Tennyson

 Come into the garden, Maud,
 For the black bat, night, has flown,
Come into the garden, Maud,
 I am here at the gate alone;
And the woodbine spices are wafted abroad,
 And the musk of the rose is blown.

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Makeup on Empty Space

© Anne Waldman

I am putting makeup on empty space

all patinas convening on empty space

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Mr. Attila

© Carl Sandburg

They made a myth of you, professor,
  you of the gentle voice,
  the books, the specs,
  the furitive rabbit manners
  in the mortar-board cap
  and the medieval gown.

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Mysterious Neighbors

© Connie Wanek

Country people rise early

as their distant lights testify.

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Moly

© Thom Gunn

Nightmare of beasthood, snorting, how to wake.

I woke. What beasthood skin she made me take?

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Montale’s Grave

© Jonathan Galassi

Now that the ticket to eternity
has your name on it, we are here to pay 
the awkward tribute post-modernity
allows to those who think they think your way

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Modern Love: XVI

© George Meredith

In our old shipwrecked days there was an hour,


When in the firelight steadily aglow,

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Midsummer

© Louise Gluck

On nights like this we used to swim in the quarry, 
the boys making up games requiring them to tear off ?the girls’ clothes 
and the girls cooperating, because they had new bodies since last summer
and they wanted to exhibit them, the brave ones 
leaping off ?the high rocks — bodies crowding the water.

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Modern Love: XX

© George Meredith

I am not of those miserable males


Who sniff at vice and, daring not to snap,

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Morningside Heights, July

© William Matthews

Haze. Three student violists boarding 

a bus. A clatter of jackhammers.

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Marshlands

© Emily Pauline Johnson

A thin wet sky, that yellows at the rim,

And meets with sun-lost lip the marsh’s brim.

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Measure

© Robert Hass

Recurrences.
Coppery light hesitates 
again in the small-leaved

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Moo, Moo, Brown Cow

© Pierre Reverdy

Moo, moo, brown cow

Have you any milk?

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Mother and Child

© Louise Gluck

This is why you were born: to silence me.
Cells of my mother and father, it is your turn
to be pivotal, to be the masterpiece.

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Mechanism

© Archie Randolph Ammons

Honor a going thing, goldfinch, corporation, tree,

  morality: any working order,