Poems begining by P

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Percy Bysshe Shelley

© Edgar Lee Masters

My father who owned the wagon-shop
And grew rich shoeing horses
Sent me to the University of Montreal.
I learned nothing and returned home,

ACIS ``You are brighter than either. I cannot descry you
From radiant ripple until I come nigh you.
I lose you, I find you, again you grow dimmer,
Till round me seems nothing but shadow and shimmer.
'Tis your golden-rayed ringlets that baffle and blind me.''

Proverbs

© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

'TIS easier far a wreath to bind,

Than a good owner fort to find.

Preparatory Meditations - Second Series: 146

© Edward Taylor

My dear, dear Lord, I know not what to say:
Speech is too coarse a web for me to clothe
My love to Thee in or it to array
Or make a mantle. Would'st Thou not such loathe?
Thy love to me's too great for me to shape
A vesture for the same at any rate.

Plymouth Rock Joe

© Edgar Lee Masters

Why are you running so fast hither and thither
Chasing midges or butterflies?
Some of you are standing solemnly scratching for grubs;
Some of you are waiting for corn to be scattered.

Phenomena

© Robinson Jeffers

Great-enough both accepts and subdues; the great frame takes

all creatures;

Past One O'Clock, shorter version

© Vladimir Mayakovsky

Past one o'clock. You must have gone to bed.

The Milky Way streams silver through the night.

Pansy: Song-Words.

© Arthur Henry Adams

IN a crooked angle
Of a garden bower,
'Neath a weedy tangle
Grew a modest flower;

Percival Sharp

© Edgar Lee Masters

Observe the clasped hands!
Are they hands of farewell or greeting,
Hands that I helped or hands that helped me?
Would it not be well to carve a hand

Petit, The Poet

© Edgar Lee Masters

Seeds in a dry pod, tick, tick, tick,
Tick, tick, tick, like mites in a quarrel--
Faint iambics that the full breeze wakens--
But the pine tree makes a symphony thereof.

Pleasure XXIV

© Khalil Gibran

Then a hermit, who visited the city once a year, came forth and said, "Speak to us of Pleasure."

Peace XVIII

© Khalil Gibran

The tempest calmed after bending the branches of the trees and leaning heavily upon the grain in the field

Portrait

© Louise Bogan

She has no need to fear the fall
Of harvest from the laddered reach
Of orchards, nor the tide gone ebbing
From the steep beach.

Pencils and Pens

pencils condone typos,
pens incurably obsessed
with permanence

Poem for My Wife

Notes:
* Meat Cages (Sangkar Daging) is also title of a poem by a West Sumatran poet Gus Tf.
** Joko Pinurbo is an Indonesian poet known for his witty poems gravitating on pants.

Phizzog

standing in front of a mirror
you recall it said:
to hinge upon time is self-delusion
tomorrows and days after,
longevity or ephemeron
are mere matters of illusion