Mom poems
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Quia Multum Amavit
© John Payne
Just a drowned woman, with death-draggled hair And wan eyes, all a-stare;The weary limbs composed in ghastly rest, The hands together prest,Tight holding something that the flood has spared, Nor even the rough workhouse folk have dared To separate from her wholly, but untiedGently the knotted hands and laid it by her side
Molly Odell on her Birthday
© Odell Jonathan
Amidst the rage of civil strife,The orphan's cries, the widow's tears,This day my rising dawn of lifeHas measured five revolving years.
"It's Great When You Get In"
© O'Neill Eugene
They told me the water was lovely, That I ought to go for a swim,The air was maybe a trifle cool, "You won't mind it when you get in"So I journeyed cheerfully beach-ward, And nobody put me wise,But everyone boosted my courage With an earful of jovial lies
Voice of the Twentieth Century
© Robert Norwood
Voice of our Century, whose heart is broken,Weeping for those who will not come again--Lord Christ! hast thou been crucified in vain?--Challenge the right of every Tyrant's token:The fist of mail; the sceptre; ancient, oakenCoffers of gold for which thy sons are slain;The pride of place, which from the days of CainHath for the empty right of Power spoken!
Be like a trumpet blown from clouds of doomAgainst whatever seeks to bind on earth;Bring from the blood of battle, from the wombOf women weeping for their dead, the birthOf better days with banishment of wrong,Love in all hearts, on every lip--a song
Darwin
© Robert Norwood
Eternal night and solitude of space;Breath as of vapour crimsoning to flame;Far constellations moving in the sameInvariable order and the paceThat times the sun, or earth's elliptic raceAmong the planets: Life--dumb, blind and lame--Creeping from form to form, until her shameBlends with the beauty of a human face!
Death can not claim what Life so hardly wonOut of her ancient warfare with the Void--O Man! whose day is only now begun,Go forth with her and do what she hath done;Till thy last enemy--Death--be destroyed,And earth outshine the splendour of the sun
Song of the Sewing-Machine
© Morris George Pope
I'm the Iron Needle-Woman! Wrought of sterner stuff than clay;And, unlike the drudges human, Never weary night or day;Never shedding tears of sorrow, Never mourning friends untrue,Never caring for the morrow, Never begging work to do
Uninvited Reader
© Moritz Albert Frank
She notes in the poem she's reading where the disembodiedvoice speaking encounters
The Erotic Civilization
© Moritz Albert Frank
The infinite erotic civilization we createdis declining now. Breast and penis wag in publicas in primitive times, when nothing was erotic but the gods,
Town Eclogues: Wednesday; The Tête à Tête
© Lady Mary Wortley Montagu
DANCINDA. " NO, fair DANCINDA, no ; you strive in vain" To calm my care and mitigate my pain ;" If all my sighs, my cares, can fail to move," Ah ! sooth me not with fruitless vows of love."
The Earth for Sale
© Harold Monro
How perilous life will become on earthWhen the great breed of man has covered all
Paradise Regain'd: Book IV (1671)
© John Milton
PErplex'd and troubl'd at his bad successThe Tempter stood, nor had what to reply,Discover'd in his fraud, thrown from his hope,So oft, and the perswasive RhetoricThat sleek't his tongue, and won so much on Eve,So little here, nay lost; but Eve was Eve,This far his over-match, who self deceiv'dAnd rash, before-hand had no better weigh'dThe strength he was to cope with, or his own:But as a man who had been matchless heldIn cunning, over-reach't where least he thought,To salve his credit, and for very spightStill will be tempting him who foyls him still,And never cease, though to his shame the more;Or as a swarm of flies in vintage time,About the wine-press where sweet moust is powr'd,Beat off, returns as oft with humming sound;Or surging waves against a solid rock,Though all to shivers dash't, the assault renew,Vain battry, and in froth or bubbles end;So Satan, whom repulse upon repulseMet ever; and to shameful silence brought,Yet gives not o're though desperate of success,And his vain importunity pursues
Why the Dog Wags its Tail
© Meyer Bruce
The simple answer is economy. Whenever a moment requires yes, whenever sunlight fills a bouncing ball
