Violence poems
/ page 17 of 20 /Self-Criticism In February
© Robinson Jeffers
The bay is not blue but sombre yellow
With wrack from the battered valley, it is speckled with violent
The Pietous Complainte Of The Soule.
© Thomas Hoccleve
I meanë thus: if ony part of grace Reserued be, in tresoure or ellës where,That thu, for me purveyë and purchaseWolde vouchësaff, gret wondere but there wereI-nowgh for me: nought ellës I require; Do somwhat, than, aftir thi propirte,And schewe whi thu art cleped charite.
But now, allas, ful weel I may recorde, Whil I had myght and space of tyme I-nowgh,Of this mattere, towchid I no word,Ne, to seint, I tho my self[ë] drowgh,
That in myne nede for me may spekë now, As for no service that I have to him do:Wot I not, whom to make my monë to.
Gray Weather
© Robinson Jeffers
It is true that, older than man and ages to outlast him, the Pacific surf
Still cheerfully pounds the worn granite drum;
Bitter sweet
© Ivan Donn Carswell
The events
of September 11th
2001 remain bitter sweet;
as well as 2973 innocents
Triple Feature
© Denise Levertov
Innocent decision: to enjoy.
And the pathos
of hopefulness, of his solicitude:
Wires
© Philip Larkin
The widest prairies have electric fences,
For though old cattle know they must not stray
Young steers are always scenting purer water
Not here but anywhere. Beyond the wires
The Wanderer: A Vision: Canto I
© Richard Savage
The solar fires now faint and wat'ry burn,
Just where with ice Aquarius frets his urn!
If thaw'd, forth issue, from its mouth severe,
Raw clouds, that sadden all th' inverted year.
Parable Of The Dove
© Louise Gluck
A dove lived in a village.
When it opened its mouth
sweetness came out, sound
like a silver light around
the cherry bough. But
the dove wasn't satisfied.
Saints
© Louise Gluck
In our family, there were two saints,
my aunt and my grandmother.
But their lives were different.
All Night, All Night
© Delmore Schwartz
Looked out at the night, unable to distinguish
Lights in the towns of passage from the yellow lights
Numb on the ceiling. And the bird flew parallel and still
As the train shot forth the straight line of its whistle,
Forward on the taut tracks, piercing empty, familiar --
The Patriot
© Nissim Ezekiel
I am standing for peace and non-violence.
Why world is fighting fighting
The Wreck of the Barque Wm. Paterson of Liverpool
© William Topaz McGonagall
Ye landsmen all attend my verse, and I'll tell to ye a tale
Concerning the barque "Wm. Paterson" that was lost in a tempestuous gale;
She was on a voyage from Bangkok to the Clyde with a cargo of Teakwood,
And the crew numbered Fifteen in all of seamen firm and good.
The Burning of the Ship Kent
© William Topaz McGonagall
Good people of high and low degree,
I pray ye all to list to me,
And I'll relate a harrowing tale of the sea
Concerning the burning of the ship "Kent" in the Bay of Biscay,
Which is the most appalling tale of the present century.
The Bandit
© Robert William Service
Upon his way to rob a Bank
He paused to watch a fire;
Though crowds were pressing rank on rank
He pushed a passage nigher;
Then sudden heard, piercing and wild,
The screaming of a child.
Mother's Day Proclamation
© Julia Ward Howe
Arise then...women of this day!
Arise, all women who have hearts!
Whether your baptism be of water or of tears!
Say firmly:
Violence ( Goya "The Third of May 1808")
© Ian Emberson
The brain - the brush
here celebrate
that long red stain
seeping the universe .
Psalm 07
© John Milton
Lord my God if I have thought
Or done this, if wickedness
Be in my hands, if I have wrought
Ill to him that meant me peace,
Or to him have render'd less,
And fre'd my foe for naught;
Paradise Regained: The Fourth Book
© John Milton
Perplexed and troubled at his bad success
The Tempter stood, nor had what to reply,
Discovered in his fraud, thrown from his hope
So oft, and the persuasive rhetoric
Psalm 80
© John Milton
Thou Shepherd that dost Israel keep
Give ear in time of need,
Who leadest like a flock of sheep
Thy loved Josephs seed,
On The Lord Gen. Fairfax At The Seige Of Colchester
© John Milton
Fairfax, whose name in armes through Europe rings
Filling each mouth with envy, or with praise,
And all her jealous monarchs with amaze,
And rumors loud, that daunt remotest kings,