Poems begining by P

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Peace

© Eleanor Agnes Lee

Suddenly bells and flags!
Suddenly - door to door -
Tidings! Can we believe,
We, who were used to war?

Paradiso

© Kenneth Koch

There is no way not to be excited

When what you have been disillusioned by raises its head

Pharsalia - Book VII: The Battle

© Marcus Annaeus Lucanus

Then burned their souls
At these his words, indignant at the thought,
And Rome rose up within them, and to die
Was welcome.

Prometheus

© Paul Laurence Dunbar

Prometheus stole from Heaven the sacred fire
And swept to earth with it o'er land and sea.
He lit the vestal flames of poesy,
Content, for this, to brave celestial ire.

Poetry

© Boris Pasternak

Yes, I shall swear by you, my verse,
I shall wheeze out, before I swoon:
You're not a tenor's shape and voice,
You're summer travelling third class,
You are a suburb, not a tune.

Piger Paa Engen

© Jeppe Aakjaer

Nu er Dagen fuld af Sang,

og nu er Viben kommen,

Pussy-cat sits by the fire

© Beatrix Potter

Pussy-cat sits by the fire;
How should she be fair?
In walks the little dog,
Says "Pussy! are you there?"

Prose

© Stéphane Mallarme

Hyperbole! From my memory
Triumphantly cant you
Rise today, like sorcery
From an iron-bound book or two:

Paulo Purganti And His Wife: An Honest, But A Simple Pair

On marry'd Men, that dare be bad,
She thought no Mercy should be had;
They should be hang'd, or starv'd, or flead,
Or serv'd like Romish Priests in Swede.-
In short, all Lewdness She defy'd:
And stiff was her Parochial Pride.

Part of an Irregular Fragment

© Helen Maria Williams

I.

Rise, winds of night! relentless tempests, rise!

Psalm I.

© Henry King

The man is blest whose feet not tread,
By wicked counsailes led:
Nor stands in that perverted way,
In which the Sinners stray;

Poem

© Rene Daumal

One cannot stay on the summit forever -
One has to come down again.
So why bother in the first place? Just this.
What is above knows what is below -
But what is below does not know what is above

Planting a Lichi Tree

© Bai Juyi

The red fruit of the lichi

Is as precious as the pearl.

Pretence. Part II - The Library

© John Kenyon

From such a world, all touch, all ear, all eye,
What marvel, then, if proud Abstraction fly;
Amid Hercynian shades pursue his theme,
And leave the land of Locke to gold and steam?