Poems begining by T
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Tangerine by Ruth L. Schwartz: American Life in Poetry #54 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006
© Ted Kooser
Poet Ruth L. Schwartz writes of the glimpse of possibility, of something sweeter than we already have that comes to us, grows in us. The unrealizable part of it causes bitterness; the other opens outward, the cycle complete. This is both a poem about a tangerine and about more than that.
Tangerine
The Flesh and the Spirit
© Anne Bradstreet
In secret place where once I stood
Close by the Banks of Lacrim flood,
I heard two sisters reason on
Things that are past and things to come.
The Old Gentleman With The Amber Snuff-Box
© Alfred Noyes
His nephew, that engaging politician,
Inherited the snuff-box, and remarked
His epitaph should be "Snuffed Out." The clubs
Laughed, and the statesman's reputation grew._
To My Dear And Loving Husband
© Anne Bradstreet
If ever two were one, then surely we.
If ever man were lov'd by wife, then thee.
If ever wife was happy in a man,
Compare with me, ye women, if you can.
The Moon
© David Berman
Inside the car a young lady wears a corsage of bullet-sized rodents.
Her date, the handsome cornerback, stretches his talons over the
molded steering wheel.
The Charm Of 5:30
© David Berman
We're within inches of the perfect distance from the sun,
the sky is blueberries and cream,
and the wind is as warm as air from a tire.
Even the headstones in the graveyard
Seem to stand up and say "Hello! My name is..."
To My Book
© Benjamin Jonson
It will be looked for, book, when some but see
Thy title, Epigrams, and named of me,
The Patriot Engineer
© George Meredith
'Sirs! may I shake your hands?
My countrymen, I see!
I've lived in foreign lands
Till England's Heaven to me.
A hearty shake will do me good,
And freshen up my sluggish blood.'
"Thy voice from Inmost Dreamland Calls"
© William Watson
Thy voice from inmost dreamland calls;
The wastes of sleep thou makest fair;
Bright o'er the ridge of darkness falls
The cataract of thy hair.
The Organ-Boys Appeal
© William Makepeace Thackeray
O SIGNOR BRODERIP, you are a wickid ole man,
You wexis us little horgin-boys whenever you can:
How dare you talk of Justice, and go for to seek
To pussicute us horgin-boys, you senguinary Beek?
Third Avenue In Sunlight
© Anthony Evan Hecht
Now he confides to a stranger, "I was first scout,
And kept my glimmers peeled till after dark.
Our outfit had as its sign a bloody knout,
We met behind the museum in Central Park.
The Transparent Man
© Anthony Evan Hecht
I'm mighty glad to see you, Mrs. Curtis,
And thank you very kindly for this visit--
Especially now when all the others here
Are having holiday visitors, and I feel
The End Of The Weekend
© Anthony Evan Hecht
A dying firelight slides along the quirt
Of the cast iron cowboy where he leans
Against my father's books. The lariat
Whirls into darkness. My girl in skin tight jeans
Fingers a page of Captain Marriat
Inviting insolent shadows to her shirt.
The House Of Dust: Part 03: 05:
© Conrad Aiken
The cigarette-smoke loops and slides above us,
Dipping and swirling as the waiter passes;
You strike a match and stare upon the flame.
The tiny fire leaps in your eyes a moment,
And dwindles away as silently as it came.
The After-Glow
© Mathilde Blind
Oh heart, I ask, seeing that the orb of day
Has sunk below, yet left to sky and sea
His glory's spiritual after-shine:
I ask if Love, whose sun hath set for thee,
May not touch grief with his memorial ray,
And lend to loss itself a joy divine?
The Chosen Cliff.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
HERE in silence the lover fondly mused on his loved one;Gladly he spake to me thus: "Be thou my witness, thou stone!
Yet thou must not be vainglorious, thou hast many companions;Unto each rock on the plain, where I, the happy one, dwell,
Unto each tree of the wood that I cling to, as onward I ramble,'Be thou a sign of my bliss!' shout I, and then 'tis ordain'd.
Yet to thee only I lend a voice, as a Muse from the peopleChooseth one for herself, kissing his lips as a friend." 1782.
The Yelpers.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
OUR rides in all directions bend,For business or for pleasure,
Yet yelpings on our steps attend,And barkings without measure.
The dog that in our stable dwells,After our heels is striding,
And all the while his noisy yellsBut show that we are riding. 1815.*
To The Husbandman.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
SMOOTHLY and lightly the golden seed by the furrow is cover'd;
The Same, Expanded.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
And people then will alter their mind.
If courage is gone--then all is gone!
'Twere better that thou hadst never been born.
Three Palinodias.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Beginning, rudely, I admit,
To treat the lady with a text.
To this she hearken'd not at all,
But hasten'd to his principal:
"None are so wise, they say, as you,--
Is not the world enough for two?
