Poems begining by S
/ page 150 of 287 /Shroud of the Gnome
© James Tate
And what amazes me is that none of our modern inventions
surprise or interest him, even a little. I tell him
Song
© Edmund Waller
Go, lovely rose!
Tell her that wastes her time and me,
That now she knows,
When I resemble her to thee,
How sweet and fair she seems to be.
San Francisco
© Jack Gilbert
This poem was found written on a paper bag by Richard Brautigan in a laundromat in San Francisco. The author is unknown.
By accident, you put
Sounds of the Resurrected Dead Man’s Footsteps #17
© Marvin Bell
1. At the Walking Dunes, Eastern Long Island
That a bent piece of straw made a circle in the sand.
Satire III
© John Donne
Kind pity chokes my spleen; brave scorn forbids
Those tears to issue which swell my eyelids;
Star
© William Stanley Merwin
All the way north on the train the sun
followed me followed me without moving
Sheep
© Judy Grahn
The first four leaders had broken knees
The four old dams had broken knees
The flock would start to run, then freeze
The first four leaders had broken knees
Song of the Galley-Slaves
© Rudyard Kipling
(‘“The Finest Story in the World”’—Many Inventions)
We pulled for you when the wind was against us and the sails were low.
Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence
© Matthew Rohrer
I'm waiting for the Light Beings
to remove my roof.
Our bedroom is lousy with clothes
spelling out greetings if anyone's up there
who can read English.
Sonnet XXIX: When, in disgrace with fortune and mens eyes
© William Shakespeare
When, in disgrace with fortune and mens eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
[Sonnet] You jerk you didn't call me up
© Bernadette Mayer
Nowadays you guys settle for a couch
By a soporific color cable t.v. set
Instead of any arc of love, no wonder
The G.I. Joe team blows it every other time
Sonnet: I Scarcely Grieve
© Henry Timrod
I scarcely grieve, O Nature! at the lot
That pent my life within a city’s bounds,
Sonnet CIV: To me, fair friend, you never can be old
© William Shakespeare
To me, fair friend, you never can be old,
For as you were when first your eye I eyed,
Sonnet XXX: When to the Sessions of Sweet Silent Thought
© William Shakespeare
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
Song of the Two Crows
© Hayden Carruth
I sing of Morrisville
(if you call this cry
a song). I
(if you call this painful
Skin Cancer
© Mark Jarman
Balmy overcast nights of late September;
Palms standing out in street light, house light;
St. Agnes' Eve
© Kenneth Fearing
The dramatis personae include a fly-specked Monday evening,
A cigar store with stagnant windows,