Time poems

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Notes on the Steps of the San Diego Bus Depot

© Ortiz Simon Joseph

Across the streetAmerica is putting togetheranother Federal Building.The Wisconsin Horselooks through the chainlink fence.He turns and tells me with his eyes.

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Making Quiltwork

© Ortiz Simon Joseph

Like the coat of many colors, the letters, scraps,all those odds and bits we live by, we have cometo know

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Burning River

© Ortiz Simon Joseph

I will tell my son over and over again,"Do not let the rivers burn

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Blind Curse

© Ortiz Simon Joseph

You could drive blindfor those two secondsand they would be forever

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A Satire, in Imitation of the Third of Juvenal

© John Oldham

Though much concern'd to leave my dear old friend,I must however his design commendOf fixing in the country: for were IAs free to choose my residence, as he;The Peak, the Fens, the Hundreds, or Land's End,I would prefer to Fleet Street, or the Strand

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The Dance at McDougall's

© O'Hagan Thomas

In a little log house near the rim of the forest With its windows of sunlight, its threshold of stone,Lived Donald McDougall, the quaintest of Scotchmen, And Janet his wife, in their shanty, alone:By day the birds sang them a chorus of welcome, At night they saw Scotland again in their dreams;They toiled full of hope 'mid the sunshine of friendship, Their hearts leaping onward like troutlets in streams, In the little log home of McDougall's

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Darwin

© Robert Norwood

Eternal night and solitude of space;Breath as of vapour crimsoning to flame;Far constellations moving in the sameInvariable order and the paceThat times the sun, or earth's elliptic raceAmong the planets: Life--dumb, blind and lame--Creeping from form to form, until her shameBlends with the beauty of a human face!

Death can not claim what Life so hardly wonOut of her ancient warfare with the Void--O Man! whose day is only now begun,Go forth with her and do what she hath done;Till thy last enemy--Death--be destroyed,And earth outshine the splendour of the sun

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"A Little Place Apart"

© Nicholls Marjory

A little garden have I made me here, Of tender, fragrant plants--none bright or gay--And hither shall I come in twilight-time To dream awhile of the dear yesterday.

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The Sailing of the Long-ships

© Newbolt Henry John

They saw the cables loosened, they saw the gangways cleared,They heard the women weeping, they heard the men that cheered;Far off, far off, the tumult faded and died away,And all alone the sea-wind came singing up the Bay

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Drake's Drum

© Newbolt Henry John

Drake he's in his hammock an' a thousand mile away, (Capten, art tha sleepin' there below?),Slung atween the round shot in Nombre Dios Bay, An' dreamin' arl the time o' Plymouth Hoe

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My Father’s Hands

© Neilson Shane

Claim a plot of land your prison: boundariesfar as the cricks that keep a neighbour’s farmfrom creeping. The stern command to grow:plough and harrow, till and sow, months of hoe-

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The Story of Sigurd the Volsung

© William Morris

But therewith the sun rose upward and lightened all the earth,And the light flashed up to the heavens from the rims of the glorious girth;But they twain arose together, and with both her palms outspread,And bathed in the light returning, she cried aloud and said:"All hail, O Day and thy Sons, and thy kin of the coloured things!Hail, following Night, and thy Daughter that leadeth thy wavering wings!Look down With unangry eyes on us today alive,And give us the hearts victorious, and the gain for which we strive!All hail, ye Lords of God-home, and ye Queens of the House of Gold!Hail, thou dear Earth that bearest, and thou Wealth of field and fold!Give us, your noble children, the glory of wisdom and speech,And the hearts and the hands of healing, and the mouths and hands that teach!"

Then they turned and were knit together; and oft and o'er againThey craved, and kissed rejoicing, and their hearts were full and fain

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We Were Boys Together

© Morris George Pope

We were boys together, And never can forgetThe school-house on the heather, In childhood where we met --The humble home, to memory dear; Its sorrows and its joys

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Your Idea of Embracing Horror

© Moritz Albert Frank

Your idea of embracing horrorwas overwhelmed by the horror:

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What Is Impossible

© Moritz Albert Frank

About the age of twenty, when the first hairfallsignals that nature is finished with the organismand we just begin to conceive the use of women(having been all this timemore enamored of the fountain than the cistern),we retire to nursing homes,whether they be kaleidoscopic gardensaimed like a blunderbuss of hermeticism at our neighbors,or a desperate dream safari through old Zambesi,where the suicidal waves of angry nativesgive the illusion that we are advancing rapidly,or the crow's-nest of this windless office blockwhere the cook is already boiling the last sail

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Orpheus

© Moritz Albert Frank

He glanced around to check if the treacherous godshad really given him the reward promised for his accomplished songand there she was, Eurydice restored, perfectly naked and fleshedin her rhyming body again, the upper and lower smiles and eyes,the line of mouth-sternum-navel-cleft, the chime of breasts and hipsand of the two knees, the feet, the toes, and that expressionof an unimaginable intelligence that yoked all these with a skillshe herself had forgotten the learning of: there she was, with him once morejust for an instant as she vanished

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One With The Sun

© Moritz Albert Frank

Childone with the sunin trackless fieldsof yellow grass and thistle, scentof humid heavy air and the wing musicof bees and flies.

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The Little Walls Before China

© Moritz Albert Frank

A courtier speaks to Ch'in Shih-huang-ti, ca. 210 B.C.

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The List

© Moritz Albert Frank

It occurred to me that we should write down the names of the dead.