Poems begining by S
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Santa Fe In Winter
© Deborah Ager
The city is closing for the night.
Stores draw their blinds one by one,
and it's dark again, save for the dim
Summer Nights
© Deborah Ager
The factory siren tells workers time to go home
tells them the evening has begun.
When living with the tall man
Sea
© Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
1
(Windless Summer)Between the glass panes of the sea are pressed
Patterns of fronds, and the bronze tracks of fishes. 2
(Winter)Foam-ropes lasso the seal-black shiny rocks,
Symphony In Red
© Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
Within the church
The solemn priests advance,
And the sunlight, stained by the heavy windows,
Dyes a yet richer red the scarlet banners
Snow White's Acne
© Denise Duhamel
At first she was sure it was just a bit of dried strawberry juice,
or a fleck of her mother's red nail polish that had flaked off
when she'd patted her daughter to sleep the night before.
But as she scrubbed, Snow felt a bump, something festering
Sex With A Famous Poet
© Denise Duhamel
I had sex with a famous poet last night
and when I rolled over and found myself beside him I shuddered
because I was married to someone else,
because I wasn't supposed to have been drinking,
Stans Puer ad Mensam
© Sir Walter Raleigh
Attend my words, my gentle knave,
And you shall learn from me
How boys at dinner may behave
With due propriety.
Sestina Otiosa
© Sir Walter Raleigh
Our great work, the Otia Merseiana,
Edited by learned Mister Sampson,
And supported by Professor Woodward,
Is financed by numerous Bogus Meetings
Hastily convened by Kuno Meyer
To impose upon the Man of Business.
Song of Myself
© Sir Walter Raleigh
I was a Poet!
But I did not know it,
Neither did my Mother,
Nor my Sister nor my Brother.
Should the wide world roll away,
© Stephen Crane
Should the wide world roll away,
Leaving black terror,
Limitless night,
Nor God, nor man, nor place to stand
Supposing that I should have the courage
© Stephen Crane
Supposing that I should have the courage
To let a red sword of virtue
Plunge into my heart,
Letting to the weeds of the ground
Still
© Wislawa Szymborska
In sealed box cars travel
names across the land,
and how far they will travel so,
and will they ever get out,
don't ask, I won't say, I don't know.
Some Like Poetry
© Wislawa Szymborska
Write it. Write. In ordinary ink
on ordinary paper: they were given no food,
they all died of hunger. "All. How many?
It's a big meadow. How much grass
Saturday At The Border
© Hayden Carruth
Here I am writing my first villanelle
At seventy-two, and feeling old and tired--
"Hey, Pops, why dontcha give us the old death knell?"--
St. Winefred's Well
© Gerard Manley Hopkins
ACT I. SC. IEnter Teryth from riding, Winefred following.T. WHAT is it, Gwen, my girl? why do you hover and haunt me? W. You came by Caerwys, sir?
T. I came by Caerwys.
W. There
Some messenger there might have met you from my uncle.
Strike, Churl
© Gerard Manley Hopkins
Strike, churl; hurl, cheerless wind, then; heltering hail
Mays beauty massacre and wisp?d wild clouds grow
Out on the giant air; tell Summer No,
Bid joy back, have at the harvest, keep Hope pale.
St. Alphonsus Rodriguez
© Gerard Manley Hopkins
Yet God (that hews mountain and continent,
Earth, all, out; who, with trickling increment,
Veins violets and tall trees makes more and more)
Could crowd career with conquest while there went
Those years and years by of world without event
That in Majorca Alfonso watched the door.
Summa
© Gerard Manley Hopkins
The best ideal is the true
And other truth is none.
All glory be ascrib?d to
The holy Three in One.
Spelt From Sibyl's Leaves
© Gerard Manley Hopkins
Earnest, earthless, equal, attuneable, ' vaulty, voluminous, ... stupendous
Evening strains to be tíme's vást, ' womb-of-all, home-of-all, hearse-of-all night.
Her fond yellow hornlight wound to the west, ' her wild hollow hoarlight hung to the height
Waste; her earliest stars, earl-stars, ' stárs principal, overbend us,
