Poems begining by M
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Macdonough's Song
© Rudyard Kipling
Once there was The People--Terror gave it birth;
Once there was The People and it made a Hell of Earth
Earth arose and crushed it. Listen, 0 ye slain!
Once there was The People--it shall never be again!
Miles Keogh's Horse
© John Hay
On the bluff of the Little Big-Horn,
At the close of a woful day,
Custer and his Three Hundred
In death and silence lay.
Metamorphoses: Book The Fourth
© Ovid
The End of the Fourth Book.
Translated into English verse under the direction of
Sir Samuel Garth by John Dryden, Alexander Pope, Joseph Addison,
William Congreve and other eminent hands
Moonflowers by Karma Larsen: American Life in Poetry #8 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006
© Ted Kooser
Thousands, perhaps tens of thousands of poems have been written to express the grief of losing a parent. Many of the most telling of these attach the sense of loss to some object, some personal thing left behind, as in this elegy to her mother by a Nebraskan, Karma Larsen:
Moonflowers
Monologue Of A Commercial Fisherman
© Alan Dugan
If you work a body of water and a body of woman
you can take fish out of one and children out of the other
Myra
© Fulke Greville
I, with whose colours Myra dress'd her head,
I, that ware posies of her own hand-making,
I, that mine own name in the chimneys read
By Myra finely wrought ere I was waking:
Must I look on, in hope time coming may
With change bring back my turn again to play?
Morning Lament
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
OH thou cruel deadly-lovely maiden,
Tell me what great sin have I committed,
That thou keep'st me to the rack thus fasten'd,
That thou hast thy solemn promise broken?
My After-Dinner Cloud
© Henry Sambrooke Leigh
Some sombre evening, when I sit
And feed in solitude at home,
Perchance an ultra-bilious fit
Paints all the world an orange chrome.
My Love, Oh, She Is My Love
© Douglas Hyde
SHE casts a spell, oh, casts a spell!
Which haunts me more than I can tell.
My Sad Captains
© Thom Gunn
One by one they appear in
the darkness: a few friends, and
a few with historical
names. How late they start to shine!
but before they fade they stand
perfectly embodied, all
Madness
© Henry James Pye
Here some grave Man whose head with prudence fraught
Was ne'er disturb'd by one eccentric thought,
Who without meaning rolls his leaden eyes,
And being stupid, fancies he is wise,
May with sagacious sneers my case deplore,
And urge the use of rest, and Hellebore.
Metrical Feet
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Trochee trips from long to short;
From long to long in solemn sort
Mr. Philosopher
© Robert Graves
Old Mr. Philosopher
Comes for Ben and Claire,
An ugly man, a tall man,
With bright-red hair.
My Darling Dear, My Daisy Flower
© John Skelton
WITH lullay, lullay, like a child,
Thou sleepèst too long, thou art beguiled!
Marigolds
© Robert Graves
With a fork drive Nature out,
She will ever yet return;
Hedge the flowerbed all about,
Pull or stab or cut or burn,
She will ever yet return.
Mans Discontent
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
And the languid breeze was perfumed by a rose's stolen breath;
'Twas the last white bud of Summer that escaped the hand of death,
And my sweet, I feared to meet her for my yesterday of scorn;
Then I flung myself beside her as she knelt amid the corn.
She only said To red and gold grew the green young leaf of Spring.
The rose filled the dead cowslip's throne; now poppy reigns a king.
Mermaid, Dragon, Fiend
© Robert Graves
In my childhood rumors ran
Of a world beyond our door
Terrors to the life of man
That the highroad held in store.
My Aviary
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
THROUGH my north window, in the wintry weather,--
My airy oriel on the river shore,--
I watch the sea-fowl as they flock together
Where late the boatman flashed his dripping oar.
Martha
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
SEXTON! Martha's dead and gone;
Toll the bell! toll the bell!
Her weary hands their labor cease;
Good night, poor Martha,-- sleep in peace!
Toll the bell!
