Mom poems
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Translation of Lucius Afranius "Auctio"
© MikeM70
Auctio
Simul límen intrabo, ílli extrabunt ílico.
adeste, si híc absente nóbis uenierít puer.
The Emigrants: Book I
© Charlotte Turner Smith
Scene, on the Cliffs to the Eastward of the Town of
Brighthelmstone in Sussex. Time, a Morning in November, 1792.
Snow and Ice
© Quincy Troupe
ice sheets sweep this slick mirrored dark place
space as keys that turn in tight, trigger
Alfred Lord Tennyson - The Coming Of Arthur
© Alfred Tennyson
Leodogran, the King of Cameliard,
Had one fair daughter, and none other child;
And she was the fairest of all flesh on earth,
Guinevere, and in her his one delight.
Like A Scarf
© James Tate
The directions to the lunatic asylum were confusing,
more likely they were the random associations
Happy As The Day Is Long
© James Tate
I take the long walk up the staircase to my secret room.
Today's big news: they found Amelia Earhart's shoe, size 9.
The Recollection
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
NOW the last day of many days,
All beautiful and bright as thou,
The Working Party
© Siegfried Sassoon
Three hours ago, he stumbled up the trench;
Now he will never walk that road again:
He must be carried back, a jolting lump
Beyond all needs of tenderness and care.
The Second Elegy
© Rainer Maria Rilke
If only we too could discover a pure contained
human place our own strip of fruit-bearing soil
between river and rock. For our own heart always exceeds us
as theirs did. And we can no longer follow it gazing
into images that soothe it into the godlike bodies
where measured more greatly if achieves a greater repose.
November 1968
© Adrienne Rich
Stripped
you're beginning to float free
up through the smoke of brushfires
and incinerators
the unleafed branches won't hold you
nor the radar aerials
My Mouth Hovers Across Your Breasts
© Adrienne Rich
My mouth hovers across your breasts
in the short grey winter afternoon
From an Atlas of the Difficult World
© Adrienne Rich
I know you are reading this poem
late, before leaving your office
Burning Oneself Out
© Adrienne Rich
the crimson-flittered grey ash, yes.
I know inside my eyelids
and underneath my skin
Rubaiyat
© Tanwir Phool
Jo lamHa guzartaa hai who keya detaa hai?
Dauraaniya-e-zeest bataa detaa hai
Aie Phool ! ghaTaa umr se ik aur baras
Jaataa huwaa har saal sadaa detaa hai
