Poems begining by T
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The Last Attack. To Klaus
© Zbigniew Herbert
Permit me to open by expressing joy and wonder
that we're marching at the head of our companies
in different uniforms under a different command
but with a single aimto survive
The Earth
© Anne Sexton
God loafs around heaven,
without a shape
but He would like to smoke His cigar
or bite His fingernails
and so forth.
The Child Bearers
© Anne Sexton
Jean, death comes close to us all,
flapping its awful wings at us
and the gluey wings crawl up our nose.
Our children tremble in their teen-age cribs,
The Death King
© Anne Sexton
I hired a carpenter
to build my coffin
and last night I lay in it,
braced by a pillow,
The Dying Gipsy Smuggler
© Sir Walter Scott
Wasted, weary, wherefore stay,
Wrestling thus with earth and clay?
From the body pass away;-
Hark! the mass is singing.
The Fury Of Hating Eyes
© Anne Sexton
I would like to bury
all the hating eyes
under the sand somewhere off
the North Atlantic and suffocate
The Fury Of Abandonment
© Anne Sexton
It makes me laugh
to see a woman in this condition.
It makes me laugh for America and New York city
when your hands are cut off
and no one answers the phone.
The Evil Eye
© Anne Sexton
It comes oozing
out of flowers at night,
it comes out of the rain
if a snake looks skyward,
The Fury Of Overshoes
© Anne Sexton
They sit in a row
outside the kindergarten,
black, red, brown, all
with those brass buckles.
The Race
© William Rose Benet
A stretch of sand
Muffled the hoofs, and seemed to check us. Then
Caleppitcaleppitcaleppit! again. And neither gaining ...
Pursuer, pursued, and all a flowing illusion!
The Fury Of Rainstorms
© Anne Sexton
The rain drums down like red ants,
each bouncing off my window.
The ants are in great pain
and they cry out as they hit
The Fallen Angels
© Charles Heavysege
'Twas on a day, and in high, radiant heaven,
An angel lay beside a lake reclined,
The Fury Of Beautiful Bones
© Anne Sexton
Sing me a thrush, bone.
Sing me a nest of cup and pestle.
Sing me a sweetbread fr an old grandfather.
Sing me a foot and a doorknob, for you are my love.
The Moss Of His Skin
© Anne Sexton
"Young girls in old Arabia were often buried alive next
to their fathers, apparently as sacrifice to the goddesses
of the tribes..."
The Angel Food Dogs
© Anne Sexton
No point? No twist for you
in my white tunnel?
Let me speak plainly,
let me whisper it from the podium--
The Big Boots Of Pain
© Anne Sexton
There can be certain potions
needled in the clock
for the body's fall from grace,
to untorture and to plead for.
The Break Away
© Anne Sexton
I pray it will know truth,
if truth catches in its cup
and yet I pray, as a child would,
that the surgery take.
To A Proud Beauty
© Adam Lindsay Gordon
"A Valentine"
Though I have loved you well, I ween,
And you, too, fancied me,
Your heart hath too divided been
