Time poems
/ page 382 of 792 /
So Long.
© Walt Whitman
1
TO concludeI announce what comes after me;
I announce mightier offspring, orators, days, and then, for the present, depart.
In Midnight Sleep.
© Walt Whitman
1
IN midnight sleep, of many a face of anguish,
Of the look at first of the mortally woundedof that indescribable look;
Of the dead on their backs, with arms extended wide,
Adieu to a Soldier.
© Walt Whitman
ADIEU, O soldier!
You of the rude campaigning, (which we shared,)
The rapid march, the life of the camp,
The hot contention of opposing frontsthe long manoeuver,
Ashes of Soldiers.
© Walt Whitman
ASHES of soldiers!
As I muse, retrospective, murmuring a chant in thought,
Lo! the war resumesagain to my sense your shapes,
And again the advance of armies.
Song at Sunset.
© Walt Whitman
SPLENDOR of ended day, floating and filling me!
Hour prophetichour resuming the past!
Inflating my throatyou, divine average!
You, Earth and Life, till the last ray gleams, I sing.
Walt Whitman.
© Walt Whitman
1
I CELEBRATE myself;
And what I assume you shall assume;
For every atom belonging to me, as good belongs to you.
Corona
© Paul Celan
Autunm eats its leaf out of my hand: we are friends.
From the nuts we shell time and we teach it to walk:
then time returns to the shell.
Transcription Of Organ Music
© Allen Ginsberg
The flower in the glass peanut bottle formerly in the
kitchen crooked to take a place in the light,
the closet door opened, because I used it before, it
kindly stayed open waiting for me, its owner.
Plutonian Ode
© Allen Ginsberg
IWhat new element before us unborn in nature? Is there
a new thing under the Sun?
At last inquisitive Whitman a modern epic, detonative,
Scientific theme
Psalm IV
© Allen Ginsberg
Now I'll record my secret vision, impossible sight of the face of God:
It was no dream, I lay broad waking on a fabulous couch in Harlem
having masturbated for no love, and read half naked an open book of Blake
on my lap
In The Baggage Room At Greyhound
© Allen Ginsberg
IIn the depths of the Greyhound Terminal
sitting dumbly on a baggage truck looking at the sky
waiting for the Los Angeles Express to depart
worrying about eternity over the Post Office roof in
CIA Dope Calypso
© Allen Ginsberg
In nineteen hundred forty-nine
China was won by Mao Tse-tung
Chiang Kai-shek's army ran away
They were waiting there in Thailand yesterday
Father Death Blues (Don't Grow Old, Part V)
© Allen Ginsberg
Hey Father Death, I'm flying home
Hey poor man, you're all alone
Hey old daddy, I know where I'm going
Five A.M.
© Allen Ginsberg
Elan that lifts me above the clouds
into pure space, timeless, yea eternal
Breath transmuted into words
Transmuted back to breath
A Desolation
© Allen Ginsberg
Now mind is clear
as a cloudless sky.
Time then to make a
home in wilderness.
Death & Fame
© Allen Ginsberg
When I die
I don't care what happens to my body
throw ashes in the air, scatter 'em in East River
bury an urn in Elizabeth New Jersey, B'nai Israel Cemetery
Sacrifices
© Richard Jones
All winter the fire devoured everything --
tear-stained elegies, old letters, diaries, dead flowers.
When April finally arrived,
I opened the woodstove one last time
The Two Kings
© William Butler Yeats
King Eochaid came at sundown to a wood
Westward of Tara. Hurrying to his queen
He had outridden his war-wasted men
That with empounded cattle trod the mire,
To Some I Have Talked With By The Fire
© William Butler Yeats
While I wrought out these fitful Danaan rhymes,
My heart would brim with dreams about the times
When we bent down above the fading coals
And talked of the dark folk who live in souls
The Double Vision Of Michael Robartes
© William Butler Yeats
On the grey rock of Cashel the mind's eye
Has called up the cold spirits that are born
When the old moon is vanished from the sky
And the new still hides her horn.
