Poems begining by T
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The house where I was born (04)
© Yves Bonnefoy
And voices that cast shadows on the road,
Or called to me, and, my heart beating fast,
I turned around to face the empty road.
The house where I was born (05)
© Yves Bonnefoy
In the same dream
I am lying in the hollow of a boat,
My forehead and eyes against the curved planks
Where I can hear the undercurrents
The house where I was born (10)
© Yves Bonnefoy
And then life; and once again
A house where I was born. Around us
The granary above what once had been a church,
The gentle play of shadow from the dawn clouds,
The house where I was born (03)
© Yves Bonnefoy
I woke up, it was the house where I was born,
It was night, trees were crowding
On all sides around our door,
I was alone on the doorstep in the cold wind,
The house where I was born (06)
© Yves Bonnefoy
I woke up, but I was travelling,
The train had rolled throughout the night,
It was now going toward huge clouds
That were standing, packed together, down there,
The house where I was born (02)
© Yves Bonnefoy
I woke up, it was the house where I was born.
It was raining softly in all the rooms,
I went from one to another, looking at
The water that shone on the mirrors
The house where I was born (09)
© Yves Bonnefoy
And then the day came
When I heard the extraordinary lines in Keats,
The evocation of Ruth when, sick for home,
She stood in tears amid the alien corn.
The house where I was born (08)
© Yves Bonnefoy
I open my eyes, yes, its the house where I was born,
Exactly as it was and nothing more.
The same small dining room whose window
Gives onto a peach tree that never grows.
The house where I was born (07)
© Yves Bonnefoy
I have crossed out
These words a hundred times, in verse, in prose,
But I cannot
Stop them from coming back.)
The house where I was born (01)
© Yves Bonnefoy
I woke up, it was the house where I was born,
Sea foam splashed against the rock,
Not a single bird, only the wind to open and close the wave,
Everywhere on the horizon the smell of ashes,
To Jennie
© Mark Twain
Good-bye! a kind good-bye,
I bid you now, my friend,
And though 'tis sad to speak the word,
To destiny I bend
Those Annual Bills
© Mark Twain
These annual bills! these annual bills!
How many a song their discord trills
Of "truck" consumed, enjoyed, forgot,
Since I was skinned by last year's lot!
The Aged Pilot Man
© Mark Twain
On the Erie Canal, it was,
All on a summer's day,
I sailed forth with my parents
Far away to Albany.
The Widening Spell Of Leaves
© Larry Levis
--The Carpathian Frontier, October, 1968
--for my brotherOnce, in a foreign country, I was suddenly ill.
I was driving south toward a large city famous
For so little it had a replica, in concrete,
Those Graves In Rome
© Larry Levis
There are places where the eye can starve,
But not here. Here, for example, is
The Piazza Navona, & here is his narrow room
Overlooking the Steps & the crowds of sunbathing
The Pick
© Cecilia Woloch
I watched him swinging the pick in the sun,
breaking the concrete steps into chunks of rock,
and the rocks into dust,
and the dust into earth again.
Two Children
© Spike Milligan
Two children (small), one Four, one Five,
Once saw a bee go in a hive,
They'd never seen a bee before!
So waited there to see some more.
The Soldiers at Lauro
© Spike Milligan
Young are our dead
Like babies they lie
The wombs they blest once
Not healed dry
The Lion
© Spike Milligan
If you're attacked by a Lion
Find fresh underpants to try on
Lay on the ground quite still
Pretend you are very ill
Keep like that day after day
Perhaps the lion will go away
