Poems begining by T
/ page 647 of 916 /
The Old Prison
© Judith Wright
The rows of cells are unroofed,
a flute for the wind's mouth,
who comes with a breath of ice
from the blue caves of the south.
The Testament Of Cressida
© Robert Henryson
Ane doolie sessoun to ane cairful dyte
Suld correspond, and be equivalent.
The Ox
© Russell Edson
He would stand over his newspaper, turning
the pages with his tongue, while he evacuated
on the rug.
The Alfresco Moment
© Russell Edson
A butler asks, will Madam be having her morning coffee
alfresco?
If you would be so good as to lift me out of my bed to
the veranda I would be more than willing to imbibe coffee
The Theory
© Russell Edson
The big one went to sleep as to die and dreamed he
became a tiny one. So tiny as to have lost all substance. To have
become as theoretical as a point.
To My Wife
© William Ernest Henley
Take, dear, my little sheaf of songs,
For, old or new,
All that is good in them belongs
Only to you;
The Autopsy
© Russell Edson
In a back room a man is performing an autopsy
on an old raincoat.
His wife appears in the doorway with a candle
and asks, how does it go?
The Reason Why The Closet-Man Is Never Sad
© Russell Edson
This is the house of the closet-man. There are no rooms,
just hallways and closets.
Things happen in rooms. He does not like things to
happen . . . Closets, you take things out of closets,
you put things into closets, and nothing happens . . .
The Position
© Russell Edson
They let me in. I went right up to the nursery
and climbed into the crib, and assumed the famous
fetal position.
The Colossi Of The Plain
© Mathilde Blind
Ah, once below you through the glittering plain
Stretched avenues of Sphinxes to the Nile;
And, flanked with towers, each consecrated fane
Enshrined its god. The broken gods lie prone
In roofless halls, their hallowed terrors gone,
Helpless beneath Heaven's penetrating smile.
The Floor
© Russell Edson
The floor is something we must fight against.
Whilst seemingly mere platform for the human
stance, it is that place that men fall to.
I am not dizzy. I stand as a tower, a lighthouse;
the pale ray of my sentiency flowing from my face.
The Marionettes Of Distant Masters
© Russell Edson
Then another butterfly begins to annoy the first butterfly.
He again wonders if he shouldn't call the police.
But, perhaps they are marionette-butterflies? He thinks
they are, belonging to rival masters seeing whose butterfly can
annoy the other's the most.
Tea At The Palaz Of Hoon
© Wallace Stevens
Not less because in purple I descended
The western day through what you called
The loneliest air, not less was I myself.
The Father Of Toads
© Russell Edson
It's hard enough to love a toad, but when it turns out to be
your own son then revulsion is without any tender inhibition,
he said.
The Wounded Breakfast
© Russell Edson
Soon the huge shoe is descending the
opposite horizon, a monstrous snail squealing
and grinding into the earth . . .
The Brethren
© Edgar Albert Guest
The world is needing you and me,
In places where we ought to be;
Somewhere today it's needing you
To stand for what you know is true.
And needing me somewhere today.
To keep the faith, let come what may.
The Man Rock
© Russell Edson
It is easier for a rock in a garden than a man
inside his mother. He decided to be a rock when
he got outside.
To Kenelm Henry Digby
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
(On being presented by him with a copy, painted by himself, of a rare
Portrait of Calderon.)
The Lighted Window
© Russell Edson
As I reach for it it slips through the
trees. As I chase it it rolls and tumbles
into the air and skitters on through the
night . . .
The Fathers Curse
© Victor Marie Hugo
M. ST. VALLIER (_an aged nobleman, from whom King Francis I.
decoyed his daughter, the famous beauty, Diana of
Poitiers_).
