Poems begining by T
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The Rescue
© Robert Creeley
The man sits in a timelessness
with the horse under him in time
to a movement of legs and hooves
upon a timeless sand.
The War in the Air
© Howard Nemerov
For a saving grace, we didn't see our dead,
Who rarely bothered coming home to die
But simply stayed away out there
In the clean war, the war in the air.
The Artist
© Amy Lowell
Why do you subdue yourself in golds and purples?
Why do you dim yourself with folded silks?
The Chaste Stranger
© James Tate
All the sexually active people in Westport
look so clean and certain, I wonder
The Cuckoo Song
© Pierre Reverdy
Sumer is i-cumin in—
Lhude sing, cuccu!
Groweth sed and bloweth med
And springth the wude nu.
Sing, cuccu!
The Photos
© Diane Wakoski
My sister in her well-tailored silk blouse hands me
the photo of my father
in naval uniform and white hat.
I say, “Oh, this is the one which Mama used to have on her dresser.”
To Catullus
© John Hall Wheelock
Would that you were alive today, Catullus!
Truth ’tis, there is a filthy skunk amongst us,
A rank musk-idiot, the filthiest skunk,
Of no least sorry use on earth, but only
Fit in fancy to justify the outlay
Of your most horrible vocabulary.
They eat out
© Margaret Atwood
As for me, I continue eating;
I liked you better the way you were,
but you were always ambitious.
The Cab Driver Who Ripped Me Off
© Cornelius Eady
That’s right, said the cab driver,
Turning the corner to the
The Shadow on the Stone
© Thomas Hardy
I went by the Druid stone
That broods in the garden white and lone,
The South
© Emma Lazarus
Night, and beneath star-blazoned summer skies
Behold the Spirit of the musky South,
A creole with still-burning, languid eyes,
Voluptuous limbs and incense-breathing mouth:
Swathed in spun gauze is she,
From fibres of her own anana tree.
The Ragpickers' Wine
© Charles Baudelaire
In the muddy maze of some old neighborhood,
Often, where the street lamp gleams like blood,
As the wind whips the flame, rattles the glass,
Where human beings ferment in a stormy mass,
The Long Shadow of Lincoln: A Litany
© Carl Sandburg
(We can succeed only by concert. . . . The dogmas of the quiet past are inadequate to the stormy present. The occasion is piled high with difficulty, and we must rise with the occasion. As our case is new so we must think anew and act anew. We must disenthrall ourselves. . . . December 1, 1862. The President’s Message to Congress.)
Be sad, be cool, be kind,
remembering those now dreamdust
hallowed in the ruts and gullies,
solemn bones under the smooth blue sea,
faces warblown in a falling rain.
The Evening Wind
© William Cullen Bryant
Spirit that breathest through my lattice, thou
That coolst the twilight of the sultry day,
To the Light of September
© William Stanley Merwin
When you are already here
you appear to be only
a name that tells of you
whether you are present or not
The Jew and the Rooster Are One
© Gerald Stern
After fighting with his dead brothers and his dead sisters
he chose to paint the dead rooster of his youth,
