Poems begining by T
/ page 697 of 916 /The Death Baby
© Anne Sexton
I was an ice baby.
I turned to sky blue.
My tears became two glass beads.
My mouth stiffened into a dumb howl.
They say it was a dream
but I remember that hardening.
The Knitters
© Padraic Colum
WATER, I did not seek you,
Water of hollow stone;
I crossed no one's acre to find you
You were where my geese lie down.
The Fallen Angels
© Anne Sexton
O fallen angel,
the companion within me,
whisper something holy
before you pinch me
into the grave.
The Mother
© Isabel Ecclestone Mackay
LAST night he lay within my arm,
So small, so warm, a mystery
To which God only held the key
But mine to keep from fear and harm!
The Garden
© Edith Nesbit
CHOKED with ill weeds my garden lay a-dying,
Hard was the ground, no bud had heart to blow,
Yet shone your smile there, with your soft breath sighing:
"Have patience, for some day the flowers will grow."
The Fairy
© Charles Lamb
Said Ann to Matilda, "I wish that we knew
If what we've been reading of fairies be true.
The Building Of The Cloud-Cuckoo-Town
© Aristophanes
_Mess_.--A most amazing, astonishing work it is!
So that Theagenes and Proxenides
Might flourish and gasconade and prance away
Quite at their ease, both of them four-in-hand,
Driving abreast upon the breadth of wall,
Each in his own new chariot.
Those Foreign Engineers
© Henry Lawson
Old Ivan McIvanovitch, with knitted brow of care,
Has climbed up from the engine-room to get a breath of air;
He slowly wipes the grease and sweat from hairy face and neck.
And from beneath his bushy brows he glowers around the deck.
The Addict
© Anne Sexton
Don't they know that I promised to die!
I'm keeping in practice.
I'm merely staying in shape.
The pills are a mother, but better,
every color and as good as sour balls.
I'm on a diet from death.
The Nude Swim
© Anne Sexton
On the southwest side of Capri
we found a little unknown grotto
where no people were and we
entered it completely
and let our bodies lose all
their loneliness.
The Ballad Of The Lonely Masturbator
© Anne Sexton
The end of the affair is always death.
She's my workshop. Slippery eye,
out of the tribe of myself my breath
finds you gone. I horrify
The Kiss
© Anne Sexton
My mouth blooms like a cut.
I've been wronged all year, tedious
nights, nothing but rough elbows in them
and delicate boxes of Kleenex calling crybaby
crybaby , you fool!
The Lanes Of Boyhood
© Edgar Albert Guest
DOWN the lanes of boyhood, let me go once more,
Let me tread the paths of youth that I have trod before;
Let me wander once again where the skies are bright,
Freckled face and tanned of leg, roadways of delight,
Picking checkerberries as I laze along the way,
Hunting for the robin's nest dozing in the hay.
The Andante Of Snakes
© Arthur Symons
They weave a slow andante as in sleep,
Scaled yellow, swampy black, plague-spotted white;
With blue and lidless eyes at watch they keep
A treachery of silence; infinite
The Starry Night
© Anne Sexton
The town does not exist
except where one black-haired tree slips
up like a drowned woman into the hot sky.
The town is silent. The night boils with eleven stars.
Oh starry starry night! This is how
I want to die.
The Disputants
© William Carlos Williams
Upon the table in their bowl
in violent disarray
of yellow sprays, green spikes
of leaves, red pointed petals
The Defective Record
© William Carlos Williams
Cut the bank for the fill.
Dump sand
pumped out of the river
into the old swale
The Soughing Wind
© William Carlos Williams
Some leaves hang late, some fall
before the first frostso goes
the tale of winter branches and old bones.
The Late Singer
© William Carlos Williams
Here it is spring again
and I still a young man!
I am late at my singing.
The sparrow with the black rain on his breast