Poems begining by O
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Off my Game
© Andrew Lang
'I'M off my game,' the golfer said, And shook his locks in woe;'My putter never lays me dead, My drives will never go;Howe'er I swing, howe'er I stand, Results are still the same,I'm in the burn, I'm in the sand -- I'm off my game!
'Oh, would that such mishaps might fall On Laidlay or Macfie,That they might toe or heel the ball, And sclaff along like me!Men hurry from me in the street, And execrate my name,Old partners shun me when we meet -- I'm off my game!
'Why is it that I play at all? Let memory remind meHow once I smote upon my ball, And bunkered it -- behind me
Of his Lady's Old Age
© Andrew Lang
When you are very old, at evening You'll sit and spin beside the fire, and say, Humming my songs, "Ah well, ah well-a-day!When I was young, of me did Ronsard sing
Our Photographs
© Frederick Locker Lampson
She play'd me false, but that's not whyI haven't quite forgiven Di, Although I've tried:This curl was hers, so brown, so bright,She gave it me one blissful night, And -- more beside!
Only a Working Girl
© Joussaye Marie
I know I am only a working girl, And I am not ashamed to sayI belong to the ranks of those who toil For a living, day by day
Outcast
© Hyde Robin
I care not if from shoulder now to feetThey strip my poor rags of pretence away --Torn lace of pride that once seemed very meet,Bedraggled crest that in the lists shone gay,And, with strange darker scarlet soaking through,The soiled wet scarlet of a tattered shoe
Oceano Nox
© Victor Marie Hugo
Oh! combien de marins, combien de capitainesQui sont partis joyeux pour des courses lointaines,Dans ce morne horizon se sont évanouis!Combien ont disparu, dure et triste fortune!Dans une mer sans fond, par une nuit sans lune,Sous l'aveugle océan à jamais enfouis!
Combien de patrons morts avec leurs équipages!L'ouragan de leur vie a pris toutes les pages,Et d'un souffle il a tout dispersé sur les flots!Nul ne saura leur fin dans l'abîme plongée
Oh, Give Me a Home Where the Buffalo Roam
© Higley Brewster
Oh, give me a home where the buffalo roam,Where the deer and the antelope play,Where seldom is heard a discouraging wordAnd the sky is not clouded all day.
On Burning a Parcel of Old MSS.
© Herschel John Frederick William
Wrecks of forgotten thought, or disapproved, Farewell! and as your smouldering flames ascend, Read me a parting lesson
On the Grave of a Child in Morwenstow Churchyard
© Robert Stephen Hawker
Those whom God loves die young; They see no evil days;No falsehood taints their tongue, No wickedness their ways.
Of Love in Reproof
© Susan Frances Harrison
I thought that Life was worth the living,I thought that Love was worth the giving.
Our Suburb
© Guiterman Arthur
Our Garden Spot is always bright and pretty (Of course it's rather soggy when it rains),And only thirty minutes from the city (Of course you have to catch the proper trains)
On one Munday, who Hanged Himself
© Grose Francis
Sacred be the Sabbath, fie on filthy pelf;Tuesday begins the week, Munday hath hang'd himself.
On a Wife
© Grose Francis
My dame and I, full twenty years,Liv'd man and wife together;I could no longer keep her here,She's gone the Lord knows whither
On Sherbourne Street
© Greene Richard
I am at home in a high-risewhere at night the voice of being humanis a siren blare or a drunk crying fucksomething or other on Sherbourne Street
On Himself, upon Hearing What was his Sentence
© James Graham
Let them bestow on ev'ry airth a limb;Open all my veins, that I may swimTo Thee, my Saviour, in that crimson lake;Then place my parboil'd head upon a stake,Scatter my ashes, throw them in the air:Lord (since Thou know'st where all these atoms are)I'm hopeful once Thou'lt recollect my dust,And confident thou'lt raise me with the just
Ordinary, Moving
© Gotlieb Phyllis
is the name of the gamelaughing, talking where the ball bouncesin the forgotten schoolyardone hand, the other hand; one foot, the other footyou know the one(Saturday Afternoon Kidblackball-cracker, scotchmint-muncherhandkerchief-chewer extraordinary)clap front, clap backballthwack on the boardfencefront and back, back and frontarms of old beeches reaching over drop theirsawtooth leaves in your hair (as I was sitting beneath a tree a birdie sent his love to me and as I wiped it from my eye I thought: thank goodness cows can't fly)tweedle, twydlecurtsey, saluteand roundaboutuntil you're out
the shadows turn, the light is longand while you're out you sing this song
this year, next year, sometime, never en roule-en ma boule roule-en we'll be friends for ever and ever
Pimperroquet, le roi des papillons se faisant la barbe, il se coupa le menton une, une, c'est la lune deux, deux, c'est le jeuseven, eight trois, trois -- c'est à toi!nine, a-lauraten a-laura echod, shtaimSecord hamelech bashomayim echod, shtaim, sholosh, ar-ba
