Poems begining by P

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Parable Of The Four-Poster

© Erica Jong

Because she wants to touch him,
she moves away.
Because she wants to talk to him,
she keeps silent.

Polytheist

© Lesbia Harford

One comes to love the little saints,
As years go by.
One learns to love the little saints.
"O hear me sigh,

Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.Escribir, por ejemplo: 'La noche está estrellada,
y tiritan, azules, los astros, a lo lejos.'El viento de la noche gira en el cielo y canta.Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.
Yo la quise, y a veces ella también me quiso.En las noches como ésta la tuve entre mis brazos.
La besé tantas veces bajo el cielo infinito.Ella me quiso, a veces yo también la quería.

Piccolo Valzer Viennese

© Benjamin Jonson

A Vienna ci sono dieci ragazze,
una spalla dove piange la morte
e un bosco di colombe disseccate.
C'e' un frammento del mattino
nel museo della brina.
C'è un salone con mille vetrate.

Psalm III.

© John Milton

When He Fled From Absalom.
Lord how many are my foes
How many those
That in arms against me rise

Polish Flowers

© Julian Tuwim

A box with paints from childhood's time:
The colors of town are earth and grime.
An old worker at a dark doorway squats,
The spuds in his bowl are powdery dry.
It's a face of yellowish and gray spots
In the midst of hunger, cold, dirt and slime.

Poppy And Mandragora

© Madison Julius Cawein

Let us go far from here!

Here there is sadness in the early year:

Parted

© Paul Laurence Dunbar

SHE wrapped her soul in a lace of lies,

With a prime deceit to pin it;

Prop: 2, L: 11 E: Quicunque &c

© Thomas Parnell

Vast was his soul some favorite above

Whose bolder pencil made a boy of love

Progress of Advice

© William Shenstone

Says Richard to Thomas (and seem'd half afraid)
"I'm thinking to marry thy mistress's maid;
Now, because Mrs. Lucy to thee is well known,
I will do't if thou bidst me, or let it alone.

Peaceful Waters:Variation

© Federico Garcia Lorca

peaceful waters of the air

under echo's branches

Prologue To 'Zobeide'

IN these bold times, when Learning's sons explore

The distant climate and the savage shore;

Past and Future

The new hath come and now the old retires:
And so the past becomes a mountain-cell,
Where lone, apart, old hermit-memories dwell
In consecrated calm, forgotten yet
Of the keen heart that hastens to forget
Old longings in fulfilling new desires.