Movies poems listing on Poemine.com [ page 2 of 4 ]

(homage Jacob van Hoddis)
The CIA and the KGB exchange Christmas cards
A blade snaps in two during an autopsy
The bouquet Bluebeard gave his first date reblooms
Many protest the public stoning of a guitar pick

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!

Electrocuting an Elephant

© Sonia Sanchez

Her handlers, dressed in vests and flannel pants,

Step forward in the weak winter light

Chicago Poem

© Lew Welch

I lived here nearly 5 years before I could

meet the middle western day with anything approaching

Revolution

© Anne Waldman

Spooky summer on the horizon I’m gazing at

from my window into the streets

Haiku (Never Published)

© Allen Ginsberg

Drinking my tea

Without sugar-

Essay on Psychiatrists

© Robert Pinsky

It's crazy to think one could describe them—
Calling on reason, fantasy, memory, eyes and ears—
As though they were all alike any more

The Life of Lincoln West

© Gwendolyn Brooks

Ugliest little boy
that everyone ever saw.
That is what everyone said.

Aside

© Ishmael Reed

Mail-day, and over the world in a thousand drag-nets
The bundles of letters are dumped on the docks and beaches,
And all that is dear to the personal conscious reaches
Around us again like filings around iron magnets,
And war stands aside for an hour and looks at our faces
Of total absorption that seem to have lost their places.

The American Way

© Gregory Corso

I am a great American
I am almost nationalistic about it!
I love America like a madness!
But I am afraid to return to America
I’m even afraid to go into the American Express—

Man in Space

© Billy Collins

All you have to do is listen to the way a man
sometimes talks to his wife at a table of people
and notice how intent he is on making his point
even though her lower lip is beginning to quiver,

Poem about People

© Robert Pinsky

The jaunty crop-haired graying
Women in grocery stores,
Their clothes boyish and neat,
New mittens or clean sneakers,

Ballad of the Salvation Army

© Kenneth Fearing

On Fourteenth street the bugles blow,
Bugles blow, bugles blow.
The red, red, red, red banner floats
Where sweating angels split their throats,
Marching in burlap petticoats,
Blow, bugles, blow.

Howl

© Allen Ginsberg

For Carl Solomon

I

I Am an Atheist Who Says His Prayers

© Ishmael Reed

I am an atheist who says his prayers.

I am an anarchist, and a full professor at that. I take the loyalty oath.

25 Minutes To Go

They're buildin' the gallows outside my cell.

I got 25 minutes to go.

Ode To The Austrian Socialists

Let us remember Karl Marx Hof, Goethe Hof,
The one called Matteoti and all the rest.
They were little cities built by people for people.
They were shelled by six-inch guns.
It is strange to go

Aside

© Karl Shapiro

Mail-day, and over the world in a thousand drag-nets
The bundles of letters are dumped on the docks and beaches,
And all that is dear to the personal conscious reaches
Around us again like filings around iron magnets,
And war stands aside for an hour and looks at our faces
Of total absorption that seem to have lost their places.

Matinee by Patrick Phillips: American Life in Poetry #124 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006

© Ted Kooser

Here is a lovely poem about survival by Patrick Phillips of New York. People sometimes ask me "What are poems for?" and "Matinee" is an example of the kind of writing that serves its readers, that shows us a way of carrying on. Matinee

After the biopsy,
after the bone scan,
after the consult and the crying,