Poems begining by M

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My Father in the Night Commanding No

© Louis Simpson

My father in the night commanding No
Has work to do. Smoke issues from his lips;
He reads in silence.
The frogs are croaking and the street lamps glow.

Memory of the Murdered Professors at the Jagiellonian

© Yusef Komunyakaa

After Hasior

They fired a bullet into the head

Might and Right

© Henry Van Dyke

If Might made Right, life were a wild-beasts' cage;
If Right made Might, this were the golden age;
But now, until we win the long campaign,
Right must gain Might to conquer and to reign.

My Last Afternoon with Uncle Devereux Winslow

© Robert Lowell

a black pile and a white pile....
Come winter,
Uncle Devereux would blend to the one color.

My Picture Left in Scotland

© Benjamin Jonson

I now think Love is rather deaf than blind,

For else it could not be

Mother

© Katharine Lee Bates

"MOTHER! Mother!" he called as he fell

In the horror there

For the first time, on the road north of Tampico,
I felt the life sliding out of me,
a drum in the desert, harder and harder to hear.
I was seven, I lay in the car
watching palm trees swirl a sickening pattern past the glass.
My stomach was a melon split wide inside my skin.

My Life

© Mark Strand

The huge doll of my body
refuses to rise.
I am the toy of women.
My mother

Marjories Wooing

© Emma Lazarus

THE corn was yellow upon the cliffs,
The fluttering grass was green to see,
The waves were blue as the sky above,
And the sun it was shining merrily.

Memorial Verses April 1850

© Matthew Arnold

Goethe in Weimar sleeps, and Greece,
Long since, saw Byron's struggle cease.
But one such death remain'd to come;
The last poetic voice is dumb
We stand to-day by Wordsworth's tomb.

Moving Water

© Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi

When actions come from another section, the feeling
disappears.

Man in Space

© Billy Collins

All you have to do is listen to the way a man
sometimes talks to his wife at a table of people
and notice how intent he is on making his point
even though her lower lip is beginning to quiver,

Mummia

© Rupert Brooke

As those of old drank mummia
To fire their limbs of lead,
Making dead kings from Africa
Stand pandar to their bed;

Milton by Firelight

© Gary Snyder

Piute Creek, August 1955

“O hell, what do mine eyes

My Mother’s Pillow

My mother sleeps with the Bible open on her pillow;

she reads herself to sleep and wakens startled.

Matisse

One was quite certain that for a long part of his being one being living he had been trying to be certain that he was wrong in doing what he was doing and then when he could not come to be certain that he had been wrong in doing what he had been doing, when he had completely convinced himself that he would not come to be certain that he had been wrong in doing what he had been doing he was really certain then that he was a great one and he certainly was a great one. Certainly every one could be certain of this thing that this one is a great one.