Poems begining by T
/ page 451 of 916 /
The School Where I Studied
© John Wesley
I passed by the school where I studied as a boy
and said in my heart: here I learned certain things
The Green Linnet
© André Breton
Beneath these fruit-tree boughs that shed
Their snow-white blossoms on my head,
Trying to Name What Doesn’t Change
© Naomi Shihab Nye
Roselva says the only thing that doesn’t change
is train tracks. She’s sure of it.
The train changes, or the weeds that grow up spidery
by the side, but not the tracks.
I’ve watched one for three years, she says,
and it doesn’t curve, doesn’t break, doesn’t grow.
The Mysterious Arrival of an Unusual Letter
© Mark Strand
It had been a long day at the office and a long ride back to the small apartment where I lived
The Song of the Wreck
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
The wind blew high, the waters raved,
A ship drove on the land,
The Breather
© Billy Collins
Just as in the horror movies
when someone discovers that the phone calls
are coming from inside the house
The Mother
© Ruth Stone
Here where the rooms are dryly still
Who is this dustily asleep
While juicy children run the field?
The Opal
© Wole Soyinka
Nailing up chicken wire on the frame house,
or using a chalk line, or checking a level at a glance
Thanking My Mother for Piano Lessons
© Diane Wakoski
The relief of putting your fingers on the keyboard,
as if you were walking on the beach
and found a diamond
as big as a shoe;
The Continent’s End
© Robinson Jeffers
At the equinox when the earth was veiled in a late rain, wreathed with wet poppies, waiting spring,
The ocean swelled for a far storm and beat its boundary, the ground-swell shook the beds of granite.
The Children of Stare
© Walter de la Mare
Winter is fallen early
On the house of Stare;
Birds in reverberating flocks
Haunt its ancestral box;
Bright are the plenteous berries
In clusters in the air.
The moon now rises to her absolute rule
© Henry David Thoreau
The moon now rises to her absolute rule,
And the husbandman and hunter
Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star
© Jane Taylor
Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder what you are!
Up above the world so high,
Like a diamond in the sky.
the weather is hot on the back of my watch
© Charles Bukowski
the weather is hot on the back of my watch
which is down at Finkelstein’s
