Poems begining by P
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Plague Victims Catapulted Over Walls Into Besieged City
© Thomas Lux
Early germ
warfare. The dead
hurled this way look like wheels
in the sky. Look: there goes
Prologue To Spring
© Sylvia Plath
The winter landscape hangs in balance now,
Transfixed by glare of blue from gorgon's eye;
The skaters freese within a stone tableau.
Penance
© John McCrae
My lover died a century ago,
Her dear heart stricken by my sland'rous breath,
Wherefore the Gods forbade that I should know
The peace of death.
Pluck
© Ethelwyn Wetherald
Thank God for pluckunknown to slaves
The self ne'er of its Self bereft,
Who, when the right arm's shattered, waves
The good flag with the left.
Progress
© Matthew Arnold
The Master stood upon the mount, and taught.
He saw a fire in his disciples eyes;
The old law, they said, is wholly come to naught!
Behold the new world rise!
Portrait Of A Lady. By Sir Thomas Lawrence
© Letitia Elizabeth Landon
LADY , thy lofty brow is fair,
Beauty's sign and seal are there;
Philomela
© Matthew Arnold
Hark! ah, the nightingale
The tawny-throated!
Hark, from that moonlit cedar what a burst!
What triumph! hark!what pain!
Private Ground
© Sylvia Plath
First frost, and I walk among the rose-fruit, the marble toes
Of the Greek beauties you brought
Off Europe's relic heap
To sweeten your neck of the New York woods.
Soon each white lady will be boarded up
Against the crackling climate.
Prometheus, Or, The Poet's Forethought. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The First)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Of Prometheus, how undaunted
On Olympus' shining bastions
His audacious foot he planted,
Myths are told and songs are chanted,
Full of promptings and suggestions.
Pour Madeleine Seule
© Guillaume Apollinaire
Lune candide vous brillez moins que les hanches
De mon amour
Prof. vere de blaw
© Eugene Field
Achievin' sech distinction with his moddel tabble dote
Ez to make his Red Hoss Mountain restauraw a place uv note,
Our old friend Casey innovated somewhat round the place,
In hopes he would ameliorate the sufferin's uv the race;
Pittypat and Tippytoe
© Eugene Field
All day long they come and go--
Pittypat and Tippytoe;
Footprints up and down the hall,
Playthings scattered on the floor,
Picnic-time
© Eugene Field
It's June ag'in, an' in my soul I feel the fillin' joy
That's sure to come this time o' year to every little boy;
For, every June, the Sunday-schools at picnics may be seen,
Where "fields beyont the swellin' floods stand dressed in livin' green";
Pan liveth
© Eugene Field
They told me once that Pan was dead,
And so, in sooth, I thought him;
For vainly where the streamlets led
Through flowery meads I sought him--
Poeta Fit, Non Nascitur
© Lewis Carroll
"And would you be a poet
Before you've been to school?
Ah, well! I hardly thought you
So absolute a fool.
First learn to be spasmodic -
A very simple rule.
Paradise Lost : Book XI.
© John Milton
Thus they, in lowliest plight, repentant stood
Praying; for from the mercy-seat above
Publishers
© Godfrey Mutiso Gorry
And then they pretend like owls
With marble eyes and wizened stupidity
I do not know why they cannot perceive
True art
Pasiphae
© André Marie de Chénier
Tu gémis sur l'Ida, mourante, échevelée,
O reine! ô de Minos épouse désolée!
Perhaps not to be is to be without your being.
© Pablo Neruda
Perhaps not to be is to be without your being,
without your going, that cuts noon light
like a blue flower, without your passing
later through fog and stones,
Perfidy
© David Herbert Lawrence
Hollow rang the house when I knocked on the door,
And I lingered on the threshold with my hand
Upraised to knock and knock once more:
Listening for the sound of her feet across the floor,
Hollow re-echoed my heart.
