Poems begining by W
/ page 58 of 113 /
What the End Is For
© Jorie Graham
where the heard foams up into the noise of listening,
where the listening arrives without being extinguished.
The huge hum soaks up into the dusk.
The minutes spring open. Six is too many.
From where we watch,
from where even watching is an anachronism,
What the Rattlesnake Said
© Roald Dahl
The Moon's a little prairie-dog.
He shivers through the night.
He sits upon his hill and cries
For fear that I will bite.
What My Father Left Behind
© Georg Trakl
Jam jar of cigarette ends and ashes on his workbench,
hammer he nailed our address to a stump with,
balsa wood steamship, half-finished—
Writing
© Howard Nemerov
The cursive crawl, the squared-off characters
these by themselves delight, even without
Wild With All Regrets
© Wilfred Owen
Which I shan't manage now. Unless it's yours.
I shall stay in you, friend, for some few hours.
You'll feel my heavy spirit chill your chest,
And climb your throat on sobs, until it's chased
On sighs, and wiped from off your lips by wind.
Winter
© John Le Gay Brereton
When winter chills your aged bones
As by the fire you sit and nod,
Youll hear a passing wind that moans,
And think of one beneath the sod.
We Are Some Disjointed Guitars...
© Kostas Karyotakis
We are some disjointed guitars.
When the wind blows through
discordant lines and sounds awaken
in the chainlike strings that dangle.
(With a glance of your eyes...)
© Anselm Hollo
With a glance of your eyes you could plunder all the wealth of songs struck from poets harps, fair woman!
But for their praises you have no ear; therefore do I come to praise you.
You could humble at your feet the proudest heads of all the world;
But it is your loved ones, unknown to fame, whom you choose to worship; therefore I worship you.
Your perfect arms would add glory to kingly splendor with their touch;
But you use them to sweep away the dust, and to make clean your humble home; therefore I am filled with awe.
Wildpeace
© John Wesley
Let it come
like wildflowers,
suddenly, because the field
must have it: wildpeace.
Wapentake. To Alfred Tennyson
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Poet! I come to touch thy lance with mine;
Not as a knight, who on the listed field
When Summer Comes
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
When summer comes, then you are near to me,
I feel your phantom presence on my heart,
When I am Gone
© Sheldon Allan Silverstein
When I am gone what will you do?
Who will write and draw for you?
Someone smarter—someone new?
Someone better—maybe YOU!
What Light Destroys
© Andrew Hudgins
Today I’m thinking of St. Paul—St. Paul,
who orders us, Be perfect. He could have said,
When I Was Fair And Young
© Queen Elizabeth I
When I was fair and young, then favor graced me.
Of many was I sought their mistress for to be.
But I did scorn them all and answered them therefore:
What I Have Seen #3
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
I saw two youths: both were fair in the face,
They had set out foot to foot in life's race;
But one said to the other, "I say now, my brother,
You are going a little too slow;
The world will look on, and say, 'See Josy John,'
We must put on more style, now, you know."
Windchime
© Tony Hoagland
She goes out to hang the windchime
in her nightie and her work boots.
It’s six-thirty in the morning
and she’s standing on the plastic ice chest
tiptoe to reach the crossbeam of the porch,
Whole Duty Of Children
© Robert Louis Stevenson
A child should always say what's true
And speak when he is spoken to,
And behave mannerly at table;
At least as far as he is able.
When Daisies Pied and Violets Blue
© William Shakespeare
When daisies pied and violets blue
And lady-smocks all silver-white
