Poems begining by S

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Soulstrong;/breakaway

© Siddharth Anand

Abandon the past
Throw away the baggage
Suffer no more. avast(stop now)

Shema

© Primo Levi

You who live secure
In your warm houses
Who return at evening to find
Hot food and friendly faces:

Sub Mare

© Ezra Pound

It is, and is not, I am sane enough,
Since you have come this place has hovered round me,
This fabrication built of autumn roses,
Then there's a goldish colour, different.

Silet

© Ezra Pound

When I behold how black, immortal ink
Drips from my deathless pen - ah, well-away!
Why should we stop at all for what I think?
There is enough in what I chance to say.

Statement of Being

© Ezra Pound

I am a grave poetic hen
That lays poetic eggs
And to enhance my temperament
A little quiet begs.

Song in the Manner of Housman

© Ezra Pound

O woe, woe,
People are born and die,
We also shall be dead pretty soon
Therefore let us act as if we were
dead already.

Song of the Bowmen of Shu

© Ezra Pound

Here we are, picking the first fern-shoots
And saying: When shall we get back to our country?
Here we are because we have the Ken-nin for our foemen,
We have no comfort because of these Mongols.

Salutation

© Ezra Pound

O generation of the thoroughly smug
and thoroughly uncomfortable,
I have seen fishermen picnicking in the sun,
I have seen them with untidy families,

LOQUITUR: En Bertans de Born. Dante Alighieri put this man in hell
for that he was a stirrer up of strife. Eccovi! Judge ye! Have I dug
him up again? The scene is at his castle, Altaforte. "Papiols" is his
jongleur. "The Leopard," the device of Richard Coeur de Lion.

Song

© Ezra Pound

Winter is icummen in,
Lhude sing Goddamm,
Raineth drop and staineth slop,
and how the wind doth ramm,

Septuagesima

© John Burnside

I dream of the silence
the day before Adam came
to name the animals,

Snake

© John Burnside

As cats bring their smiling
mouse-kills and hypnotised birds,
slinking home under the light
of a summer's morning
to offer the gift of a corpse,

Siege Perilous

© Edwin Arlington Robinson

Long warned of many terrors more severe
To scorch him than hells engines could awaken,
He scanned again, too far to be so near,
The fearful seat no man had ever taken.

Sainte-Nitouche

Though not for common praise of him,
Nor yet for pride or charity,
Still would I make to Vanderberg
One tribute for his memory:

Stafford's Cabin

Once there was a cabin here, and once there was a man;
And something happened here before my memory began.
Time has made the two of them the fuel of one flame
And all we have of them is now a legend and a name.

Souvenir

Somewhere within there were dim presences
Of days that hovered and of years gone by.
I waited, and between their silences
There was an evanescent faded noise;
And though a child, I knew it was the voice
Of one whose occupation was to die.

Shadrach O'Leary

But this was not the end. A year ago
I met himand to meet was to admire:
Forgotten were the ladies and the lyre,
And the small, ink-fed Eros of his dream.
By questioning I found a man to know
A failure spared, a Shadrach of the Gleam.

Sonnet

What does it mean, this barren age of ours?
Here are the men, the women, and the flowers,
The seasons, and the sunset, as before.
What does it mean? Shall there not one arise
To wrench one banner from the western skies,
And mark it with his name forevermore?

© Charles Webb

Its silver clasp looks like a man grasping
his hands above his head in victory;
the latches, like twin hatchbacks headed away.