Mom poems
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His Lady Of The Sonnets X
© Robert Norwood
I looked on you and breathed upon your hair
Your hair of such soft, brown, translucent gold!
Nor did you know that I knelt down in prayer,
Clasped hands, and worshipped you for the untold
Magnificence of womanhood divine
God's miracle of Water turned to Wine!
Orlie Wilde
© James Whitcomb Riley
A goddess, with a siren's grace,-
A sun-haired girl on a craggy place
Above a bay where fish-boats lay
Drifting about like birds of prey.
The Minstrel; Or, The Progress Of Genius : Book I.
© James Beattie
I.
Ah! who can tell how hard it is to climb
The steep where Fame's proud temple shines afar!
Ah! who can tell how many a soul sublime
Ambulances
© Philip Larkin
Closed like confessionals, they thread
Loud noons of cities, giving back
None of the glances they absorb.
Light glossy grey, arms on a plaque,
They come to rest at any kerb:
All streets in time are visited.
What do animals dream?
© Yahia Lababidi
Are there agitations, upheavals or mutinies
against their perceived selves or fate?
Are they free of strengths and weaknesses peculiar
to horse, deer, bird, goat, snake, lamb or lion?
The Party
© Weldon Kees
The obscene hostess, mincing in the hall,
Gathers the guests around a crystal ball.
It is on the whole an exciting moment;
Mrs. Lefevre stares with her one good eye;
A friendly abdomen rubs against ones back;
Interesting, a portly man is heard to sigh.
Sonnet XLIX: Thou Leaden Brain
© Michael Drayton
Thou leaden brain, which censur'st what I write,
And say'st my lines be dull and do not move,
I marvel not thou feel'st not my delight,
Which never felt'st my fiery touch of love.
Vidrik Verlandson (From The Old Danish)
© George Borrow
King Diderik sits in the halls of Bern,
And he boasts of his deeds of might;
So many a swain in battle hes felld,
And taken so many a knight.
The Advice
© Thomas Chatterton
Tho' poor Pitholeon's feeble line,
In opposition to the nine,
Still violates your name;
Tho' tales of passion meanly told,
As dull as Cumberland, as cold,
Strive to confess a flame.
"Beautifully dies the year."
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Beautifully dies the year.
Silence sleeps upon the mere:
Yellow leaves float on it, stilly
As, in June, the opened lily.
Music, In A Foreign Language
© Andrew Crumey
In a cafe, once more I heard
Your voice - those sparse and frugal notes.
Do they not say that you spoke your native Greek
With an English accent?
The Slums
© Kenneth Patchen
That should be obvious
Of course it won't
Any fool knows that.
Even in the winter.
When We Were Here Together
© Kenneth Patchen
when we were here together in a place we did not know, nor one
another.
A bit of grass held between the teeth for a moment, bright hair on the
wind.
When I am asleep and crumbling in the tomb
© Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi
When I am asleep and crumbling in the tomb, should you come
to visit me, I will come forth with speed.
You are for me the blast of the trumpet and the resurrection,
so what shall I do? Dead or living, wherever you are, there am I.
The Moment
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Lose me, full, full moment,
Like a ripple round,
Widening into worlds
Beyond earth's bound.
The Jackdaw Of Rheims
© Richard Harris Barham
The Jackdaw sat on the Cardinal's chair!
Bishop, and abbot, and prior were there;
I have fallen into unconsciousness
© Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi
I have got out of my own control, I have fallen into unconsciousness; in my utter unconsciousness how joyful I am with myself!
The darling sewed up my eyes so that I might not see other than him, so that suddenly I opened my eyes on his face.
My soul fought with me saying, Do not pain me; I said, Take your divorce. She said, Grant it; I granted it.
When my mother saw on my cheek the brand of your love she cut my umbilical cord on that, the moment I was born.
