Poems begining by P
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Peace
© Henry Vaughan
1 My Soul, there is a country
2 Afar beyond the stars,
3 Where stands a winged sentry
4 All skillful in the wars;
Prelude to an Unwritten Masterpiece
© Siegfried Sassoon
You like my bird-sung gardens: wings and flowers;
Calm landscapes for emotion; star-lit lawns;
And Youth against the sun-rise ... Not profound;
But such a haunting music in the sound:
Do it once more; it helps us to forget.
Parted
© Siegfried Sassoon
Sleepless I listen to the surge and drone
And drifting roar of the towns undertone;
Till through quiet falling rain I hear the bells
Tolling and chiming their brief tune that tells
Picture-Show
© Siegfried Sassoon
And still they come and go: and this is all I know
That from the gloom I watch an endless picture-show,
Where wild or listless faces flicker on their way,
With glad or grievous hearts Ill never understand
Because Time spins so fast, and theyve no time to stay
Beyond the moments gesture of a lifted hand.
Postponement
© Thomas Hardy
SNOW-BOUND in woodland, a mournful word,
Dropt now and then from the bill of a bird,
Reached me on wind-wafts; and thus I heard,
Wearily waiting:--
Petit Dejeuner
© Linda Pastan
I sing a song
of the croissant
and of the wily French
who trick themselves daily
Prosody 101
© Linda Pastan
When they taught me that what mattered most
was not the strict iambic line goose-stepping
over the page but the variations
in that line and the tension produced
Parting
© Bertolt Brecht
We embrace.
Rich cloth under my fingers
While yours touch poor fabric.
A quick embrace
Part Of Speech
© Joseph Brodsky
...and when "the future" is uttered, swarms of mice
rush out of the Russian language and gnaw a piece
of ripened memory which is twice
as hole-ridden as real cheese.
Perseus
© Robert Hayden
Her sleeping head with its great gelid mass
of serpents torpidly astir
burned into the mirroring shield--
a scathing image dire
Paris
© Alan Seeger
First, London, for its myriads; for its height,
Manhattan heaped in towering stalagmite;
But Paris for the smoothness of the paths
That lead the heart unto the heart's delight. . . .
Paris, October 1936
© Cesar Vallejo
From all of this I am the only one who leaves.
From this bench I go away, from my pants,
from my great situation, from my actions,
from my number split side to side,
from all of this I am the only one who leaves.
Piety
© Ambrose Bierce
The pig is taught by sermons and epistles
To think the God of Swine has snout and bristles.
Porlock
© Robert Southey
Porlock! thy verdant vale so fair to sight,
Thy lofty hills which fern and furze imbrown,
The waters that roll musically down
Thy woody glens, the traveller with delight
Poems On The Slave Trade - Sonnet VI
© Robert Southey
High in the air expos'd the Slave is hung
To all the birds of Heaven, their living food!
He groans not, tho' awaked by that fierce Sun
New torturers live to drink their parent blood!
Poems On The Slave Trade - Sonnet V
© Robert Southey
Did then the bold Slave rear at last the Sword
Of Vengeance? drench'd he deep its thirsty blade
In the cold bosom of his tyrant lord?
Oh! who shall blame him? thro' the midnight shade
Poems On The Slave Trade - Sonnet IV
© Robert Southey
'Tis night; the mercenary tyrants sleep
As undisturb'd as Justice! but no more
The wretched Slave, as on his native shore,
Rests on his reedy couch: he wakes to weep!
Poems On The Slave Trade - Sonnet III
© Robert Southey
Oh he is worn with toil! the big drops run
Down his dark cheek; hold--hold thy merciless hand,
Pale tyrant! for beneath thy hard command
O'erwearied Nature sinks. The scorching Sun,
Poems On The Slave Trade - Sonnet II
© Robert Southey
Why dost thou beat thy breast and rend thine hair,
And to the deaf sea pour thy frantic cries?
Before the gale the laden vessel flies;
The Heavens all-favoring smile, the breeze is fair;
