Poems begining by O
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On my dear Grand-child Simon Bradstreet, Who dyed on 16. Novemb. 1669. being but a moneth, and one d
© Anne Bradstreet
No sooner come, but gone, and fal'n asleep,
Acquaintance short, yet parting caus'd us weep,
Once Upon a Time I
© Sukasah Syahdan
once upon a time I
saw a first flower undress
in slow motion naked colour
On Stopping Here
© Sukasah Syahdan
To: WBYWalking up your life girdle you may then
get tired or just need to look down
to see how far you have stepped
or how high you have elevated
Of Love & Sex
© Sukasah Syahdan
said once a friend of mine
that love was just a bucket of bullshit; then I--
thought about his parents
wrote once a neighbour poet
that sex was a thing overrated; so I--
asked for her other poems
"Ours was a friendship in secret, my dear"
© Lesbia Harford
Ours was a friendship in secret, my dear,
Stolen from fate.
I must be secret still, show myself calm
Early and late.
Olney Hymn 66: I Will Praise The Lord At All Times
© William Cowper
Winter has a joy for me,
While the Saviour's charms I read,
Lowly, meek, from blemish free,
In the snowdrop's pensive head.
On the Bill Which Was Passed in England For Regulating the Slave-Trade
© Helen Maria Williams
The hollow winds of night no more
In wild, unequal cadence pour,
Ode To Tranquillity
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Tranquillity! thou better name
Than all the family of Fame!
Thou ne'er wilt leave my riper age
To low intrigue, or factious rage;
O Lord, Our Father
© Mark Twain
O Lord, our father,
Our young patriots, idols of our hearts,
Go forth to battle - be Thou near them!
With them, in spirit, we also go forth
From the sweet peace of our beloved firesides To smite the foe.
One of the Bo'sun's Yarns
© John Masefield
Loafin' around in Sailor Town, a-bluin' o' my advance,
I met a derelict donkyman who led me a merry dance,
Till he landed me 'n blanched me fair in the bar of a rum-saloon,
'N' there he spun me a juice of a yarn to this-yer brand of tune.
On a Primitive Canoe
© Claude McKay
Here, passing lonely down this quiet lane,
Before a mud-splashed window long I pause
Out of The Annexe
© Ivan Donn Carswell
It grew out of the Annexe and our Corps in a world at peace
while our army trained, magnificent in its heroic pretence,
for an implausible war. They were halcyon days
in the shelter, days that combine in easy recollections
Our Privilege
© Francis Bret Harte
Not ours, where battle smoke upcurls,
And battle dews lie wet,
To meet the charge that treason hurls
By sword and bayonet.
Out of ideas
© Ivan Donn Carswell
If I dont write something good tonight I will sleep
without the comforting Canopus of deep believers,
if I sleep at all, and this light which ignites
my enormous poetic conceit and guides my muse
Other side
© Ivan Donn Carswell
The dung was recent, not an event
unusual in itself but difficult to explain
of cows grazing the other side of the fence.
Too new to be dismissed without a thought,
On your birthday, today,
© Ivan Donn Carswell
On your birthday, today, there is time to reflect
On the essence of our intimacy,
From a beginning in the spring-tide of youth
To an afterward secured in the distant mist,
On The Death of a Father
© Ivan Donn Carswell
This dismal place I hide my grief is crowded shame,
my father would have taught me tame my trembling lips
without contempt, face far constraints tight-lipped,
remain serene; I dream how well I played his silent game.
Olmecs rule
© Ivan Donn Carswell
The news is out, down Veracruz they found the evidence,
Olmecs had the written word 400 years before Sumerians.
A Chinese claim predates all that, but let it rest.
Examine what it means to Mesoamericans!
Of Such Simplicity
© Ivan Donn Carswell
You and me,
the proof is there to see,
our lives are held within the spell of great simplicity,
were free of all the shadows dwelling in the hall,
