Mom poems
/ page 58 of 212 /
They Sit Together on the Porch by Wendell Berry: American Life in Poetry #68 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet L
© Ted Kooser
Here is a marvelous little poem about a long marriage by the Kentucky poet, Wendell Berry. It's about a couple resigned to and comfortable with their routines. It is written in language as clear and simple as its subject. As close together as these two people have grown, as much alike as they have become, there is always the chance of the one, unpredictable, small moment of independence. Who will be the first to say goodnight?
They Sit Together on the Porch
Eclogue:Composed at Cannes, December 9th, 1867
© Edward Lear
J--See Catherine comes! To her, to her,
Let each his several miseries refer;
She shall decide whose woes are least or worst,
And which, as growler, shall rank last or first.
Thespis: Act I
© William Schwenck Gilbert
Jupiter, Aged Diety
Apollo, Aged Diety
Mars, Aged Diety
Diana, Aged Diety
Mercury
Reward Of Fickleness
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
ALTON.
YOU see that man with the quick eyes and brow,
Too ponderous almost for his slender frame,
His dark locks tinged with gray; you'd hardly think it,
Hepaticas
© Madison Julius Cawein
In the frail hepaticas,-
That the early Springtide tossed,
Sapphire-like, along the ways
Of the woodlands that she crossed,-
I behold, with other eyes,
Footprints of a dream that flies.
St. Ame
© Augusta Davies Webster
A SUNNY glade below the bridge;
Clear shadows branching through a stream;
Sixth Sunday After Trinity
© John Keble
When bitter thoughts, of conscience born,
With sinners wake at morn,
Montefiore
© Ambrose Bierce
I SAWt was in a dream, the other night
A man whose hair with age was thin and white;
One hundred years had bettered by his birth,
And still his step was firm, his eye was bright.
A Summer In Tuscany
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Do you remember, Lucy,
How, in the days gone by
We spent a summer together,
A summer in Tuscany,
In the chestnut woods by the river,
You and the rest and I?
That after Horrorthat 'twas us
© Emily Dickinson
That after Horrorthat 'twas us
That passed the mouldering Pier
Just as the Granite Crumb let go
Our Savior, by a Hair
Isabella; Or, The Pot Of Basil: A Story From Boccaccio
© John Keats
I.
Fair Isabel, poor simple Isabel!
Fatigue
© Amy Lowell
Give me dreamless sleep, and loose night's power over me,
Shut my ears to sounds only tumultuous then,
Bid Fancy slumber, and steal away its potency,
Or Nature wakes and strives to live again.
Seven Poems
© John Masefield
VI
I went into the fields, but you were there
Waiting for me, so all the summer flowers
Were only glimpses of your starry powers;
Beautiful and inspired dust they were.
Winter
© Samuel Johnson
No more the morn with tepid rays
Unfolds the flower of various hue;
Noon spreads no more the genial blaze,
Nor gentle eve distills the dew.
Jump-To-Glory Jane
© George Meredith
A revelation came on Jane,
The widow of a labouring swain:
And first her body trembled sharp,
Then all the woman was a harp
With winds along the strings; she heard,
Though there was neither tone nor word.
The Tower Beyond Tragedy
© Robinson Jeffers
I
You'd never have thought the Queen was Helen's sister- Troy's
Celia To Damon
© Matthew Prior
What can I say? What Arguments can prove
My Truth? What Colors can describe my Love?
If it's Excess and Fury be not known,
In what Thy Celia has already done?
