Money poems

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Within and Without: Part IV: A Dramatic Poem

© George MacDonald

SCENE I.-Summer. Julian's room. JULIAN is reading out of a book of
poems.

The Waste Land

© Thomas Stearns Eliot

“My nerves are bad tonight. Yes, bad. Stay with me.
“Speak to me. Why do you never speak. Speak.
“What are you thinking of? What thinking? What?
“I never know what you are thinking. Think.”

Pharaoh and the Sergeant

© Rudyard Kipling

Said England unto Pharaoh, "I must make a man of you,

That will stand upon his feet and play the game;

Preparatory Meditations - First Series: 6.

Am I Thy gold? Or purse, Lord, for Thy wealth;
Whether in mine or mint refined for Thee?
I'm counted so, but count me o'er Thyself,
Lest gold-washed face, and brass in heart I be.
I fear my touchstone touches when I try
Me, and my counted gold too overly.

Death and the Powers: A Robot Pageant

© Robert Pinsky

Characters
robot leader
robot two
robot three

Kaddish

© Allen Ginsberg

Magnificent, mourned no more, marred of heart, mind behind, married dreamed, mortal changed—Ass and face done with murder.
In the world, given, flower maddened, made no Utopia, shut under pine, almed in Earth, balmed in Lone, Jehovah, accept.
Nameless, One Faced, Forever beyond me, beginningless, endless, Father in death. Tho I am not there for this Prophecy, I am unmarried, I’m hymnless, I’m Heavenless, headless in blisshood I would still adore
Thee, Heaven, after Death, only One blessed in Nothingness, not light or darkness, Dayless Eternity—
Take this, this Psalm, from me, burst from my hand in a day, some of my Time, now given to Nothing—to praise Thee—But Death
This is the end, the redemption from Wilderness, way for the Wonderer, House sought for All, black handkerchief washed clean by weeping—page beyond Psalm—Last change of mine and Naomi—to God’s perfect Darkness—Death, stay thy phantoms!

Getting and Spending

© Michael Rosen

Isabella Whitney, The maner of her Wyll, 1573

1

The Unknown Eros. Book I.

© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore

Well dost thou, Love, thy solemn Feast to hold
In vestal February;
Not rather choosing out some rosy day
From the rich coronet of the coming May,
When all things meet to marry!

Giant Night

© Anne Waldman

Awake in a giant night
is where I am
There is a river where my soul,
hungry as a horse drinks beside me

Three Women

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

My love is young, so young;
Young is her cheek, and her throat,
And life is a song to be sung
With love the word for each note.

A Map to the Next World

© Joy Harjo

for Desiray Kierra Chee
In the last days of the fourth world I wished to make a map for
those who would climb through the hole in the sky.

Abandoned Farmhouse

© Ted Kooser

He was a big man, says the size of his shoes

on a pile of broken dishes by the house;

Yellow Dog Café

© Yusef Komunyakaa

In a cerulean ruckus

Of quilts, we played house

Parson Turells Legacy

OR, THE PRESIDENT'S OLD ARM-CHAIR

A MATHEMATICAL STORY

Sugar

A violent luck and a whole sample and even then quiet.
Water is squeezing, water is almost squeezing on lard. Water, water is a mountain and it is selected and it is so practical that there is no use in money. A mind under is exact and so it is necessary to have a mouth and eye glasses.
A question of sudden rises and more time than awfulness is so easy and shady. There is precisely that noise.
A peck a small piece not privately overseen, not at all not a slice, not at all crestfallen and open, not at all mounting and chaining and evenly surpassing, all the bidding comes to tea.