Poems begining by M
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Mummy's Curse
© Charles Simic
Befriending an eccentric young woman
The sole resident of a secluded Victorian mansion.
She takes long walks in the evening rain,
And so do I, with my hair full of dead leaves.
My Kingdom
© Louisa May Alcott
A little kingdom I possess
where thoughts and feelings dwell,
And very hard I find the task
of governing it well;
Montenegro
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Coiled in shadow, the serpent seas
Engirdle perilous hills sublime:
By tortuous, steep degrees
Toward the morn I climb.
Madge Linsey, Or The Three Souls
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
Then by Madge Linsey's side knelt he a little while,
"So of our wilful sins pay we the toll.
Even as she were I, had I but followed her.
But the Lord succoured me saving my soul."
My Little Soul I Never Saw
© Grace Fallow Norton
My little soul I never saw,
Nor can I count its days;
I do not know its wondrous law
And yet I know its ways.
Midsummer Midnight Skies
© William Ernest Henley
The spell-bound ships stand as at gaze
To let the marvel by. The grey road glooms . . .
Glimmers . . . goes out . . . and there, O, there where it fades,
What grace, what glamour, what wild will,
Transfigure the shadows? Whose,
Heart of my heart, Soul of my soul, but yours?
Mr. Brain
© Russell Edson
Mr Brain was a hermit dwarf who liked to eat shellfish off
the moon. He liked to go into a tree then because there is a
little height to see a little further, which may reveal now the
stone, a pebble--it is a twig, it is nothing under the moon that
you can make sure of.
So Mr Brain opened his mouth to let a moonbeam into his head.
Man And Wife
© Robert Lowell
Now twelve years later, you turn your back.
Sleepless, you hold
your pillow to your hollows like a child;
your old-fashioned tirade--
loving, rapid, merciless--
breaks like the Atlantic Ocean on my head.
My Mother
© Claude McKay
I Reg wished me to go with him to the field,
I paused because I did not want to go;
But in her quiet way she made me yield
Reluctantly, for she was breathing low.
Morning Joy
© Claude McKay
At night the wide and level stretch of wold,
Which at high noon had basked in quiet gold,
Far as the eye could see was ghostly white;
Dark was the night save for the snow's weird light.
Memorial
© Claude McKay
Your body was a sacred cell always,
A jewel that grew dull in garish light,
An opal which beneath my wondering gaze
Gleamed rarely, softly throbbing in the night.
mera ji hai jab tak teri justaju hai
© Khwaja Mir Dard
Khuda jane kya hoga anjam is ka
main besabar itna hun wo tund khu hai
My Word!
© Edgar Albert Guest
You can tyke h'it from me, 'e's as cool as a cucumber,
Never goes balmy h'or loses 'is 'ead,
Mir Ist Zu Licht Zum Schlafen ...
© Karl Joachim Friedrich Ludwig von Arnim
Mir ist zu licht zum Schlafen,
Der Tag bricht in die Nacht,
Mnemosyne
© Trumbull Stickney
I had a sister lovely in my sight:
Her hair was dark, her eyes were very sombre;
We sang together in the woods at night.
My life has been the poem
© Henry David Thoreau
My life has been the poem I would have writ,
But I could not both live and utter it.
Madrigal 1
© William Henry Drummond
This life which seems so fair
Is like a bubble blown up in the air
Monochromes
© Madison Julius Cawein
The last rose falls, wrecked of the wind and rain;
Where once it bloomed the thorns alone remain:
Dead in the wet the slow rain strews the rose.
The day was dim; now eve comes on again,
Grave as a life weighed down by many woes,--
So is the joy dead, and alive the pain.
Moonrise Over Tyringham
© Edith Wharton
Now the high holocaust of hours is done,
And all the west empurpled with their death,
How swift oblivion drinks the fallen sun,
How little while the dusk remembereth!
