Poems begining by M
/ page 63 of 130 /
Mannerly Margery Milk and Ale
© Alice Walker
Ay, beshrew you! by my fay,
These wanton clerks be nice alway!
My Father's Diary
© Sharon Olds
I get into bed with it, and spring
the scarab legs of its locks. Inside,
Maudlin; Or, The Magdalen’s Tears
© Michael Rosen
If faith is a tree that sorrow grows
and women, repentant or not, are swamps,
Magnificat
© Hugo Williams
When he had suckled there, he began
to grow: first, he was an infant in her arms,
Morning
© Charles Harpur
HOW beautiful that earliest burst of light
Which floodeth from the opening eyes of morn,
Mountains O' Mourne
© William Percy French
Oh Mary, this Londons a wonderful sight,
With people here workin by day and by night.
My Generation Reading the Newspapers
© Kenneth Patchen
We must be slow and delicate; return
the policeman's stare with some esteem,
Minstrel's Book - Talismans
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
GOD is of the east possess'd,
God is ruler of the west;
Mother Night
© James Weldon Johnson
So when my feeble sun of life burns out,
And sounded is the hour for my long sleep,
I shall, full weary of the feverish light,
Welcome the darkness without fear or doubt,
And heavy-lidded, I shall softly creep
Into the quiet bosom of the Night.
Moonrise
© Sylvia Plath
Grub-white mulberries redden among leaves.
I'll go out and sit in white like they do,
Doing nothing. July's juice rounds their nubs.
My Shoes
© Charles Simic
Shoes, secret face of my inner life:
Two gaping toothless mouths,
Two partly decomposed animal skins
Smelling of mice nests.
Mutability
© André Breton
From low to high doth dissolution climb,
And sink from high to low, along a scale
Mother And The Baby
© Edgar Albert Guest
Mother and the baby! Oh, I know no lovelier pair,
For all the dreams of all the world are hovering 'round them there;
Marriage
© Mary Elizabeth Coleridge
No more alone sleeping, no more alone waking,
Thy dreams divided, thy prayers in twain;
Thy merry sisters tonight forsaking,
Never shall we see, maiden, again.
Miranda’s Drowned Book
© Debora Greger
Perhaps not world enough, but I had time
to watch a hermit crab align himself
and back into a vacant whelk and haul
the home he wore from rocky A to B.
All that watching—watching for what? A sail
blown off its course by my uncalled-for sighs?
Memory
© Walter Savage Landor
THE MOTHER of the Muses, we are taught,
Is Memory: she has left me; they remain,
And shake my shoulder, urging me to sing
My Autograph
© Susanna Moodie
What—write my name!
How vain the feeble trust,
To be remembered
When the hand is dust—
Grieve rather that the talents freely given
Were used for earth—not treasured up for Heaven!
Misery and Splendor
© Robert Hass
Summoned by conscious recollection, she
would be smiling, they might be in a kitchen talking,
Marry Me by Veronica Patterson: American Life in Poetry #172 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-200
© Ted Kooser
I don't often talk about poetic forms in this column, thinking that most of my readers aren't interested in how the clock works and would rather be given the time. But the following poem by Veronica Patterson of Colorado has a subtitle referring to a form, the senryu, and I thought it might be helpful to mention that the senryu is a Japanese form similar to haiku but dealing with people rather than nature. There; enough said. Now you can forget the form and enjoy the poem, which is a beautiful sketch of a marriage.
Marry Me
when I come late to bed
I move your leg flung over my sideâ
that warm gate
