Poems begining by W
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When Gassy Thompson Struck It Rich
© Vachel Lindsay
He paid a Swede twelve bits an hour
Just to invent a fancy style
To spread the celebration paint
So it would show at least a mile.
What the Miner in the Desert Said
© Vachel Lindsay
The moon's a brass-hooped water-keg,
A wondrous water-feast.
If I could climb the ridge and drink
And give drink to my beast;
What the Coal-Heaver Said
© Vachel Lindsay
Out of it all there comes a flame,
A splendid widening light.
Sorrow is turned to mystery
And Death into delight.
Where Is the Real Non-Resistant
© Vachel Lindsay
Who can surrender to Christ, dividing his best with the stranger,
Giving to each what he asks, braving the uttermost danger
All for the enemy, MAN? Who can surrender till death
His words and his works, his house and his lands,
His eyes and his heart and his breath?
We Meet at the Judgment and I Fear It Not
© Vachel Lindsay
Though better men may fear that trumpet's warning,
I meet you, lady, on the Judgment morning,
With golden hope my spirit still adorning.
With a Bouquet of Twelve Roses
© Vachel Lindsay
"Excellent Lord, I come. But first," I said,
"Grant that I bring her these twelve roses red.
Yea, twelve flower kisses for her rose-leaf mouth,
And then indeed I go in bitter drouth
To that far valley where your river flows
In Peace, that once I found in every rose."
What Are Heavy? Sea-Sand And Sorrow
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
What are heavy? Sea-sand and sorrow:
What are brief? To-day and to-morrow:
What are frail? Spring blossoms and youth:
What are deep? The ocean and truth.
Where Is David, the Next King of Israel?
© Vachel Lindsay
Where is David? . . . O God's people,
Saul has passed, the good and great.
Mourn for Saul the first-anointed
Head and shoulders o'er the state.
What the Gray-Winged Fairy Said
© Vachel Lindsay
The moon's a gong, hung in the wild,
Whose song the fays hold dear.
Of course you do not hear it, child.
It takes a FAIRY ear.
What the Rattlesnake Said
© Vachel Lindsay
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 the Moon Saw
© Vachel Lindsay
Two statesmen met by moonlight.
Their ease was partly feigned.
They glanced about the prairie.
Their faces were constrained.
Why I Voted the Socialist Ticket
© Vachel Lindsay
I am unjust, but I can strive for justice.
My life's unkind, but I can vote for kindness.
I, the unloving, say life should be lovely.
I, that am blind, cry out against my blindness.
When Bryan Speaks
© Vachel Lindsay
When Bryan speaks, the town's a hive.
From miles around, the autos drive.
The sparrow chirps. The rooster crows.
The place is kicking and alive.
Weep Not For Him That Dieth
© Caroline Norton
I.
WEEP not for him that dieth--
For he sleeps, and is at rest;
And the couch whereon he lieth
Who Knows?
© Vachel Lindsay
They say one king is mad. Perhaps. Who knows?
They say one king is doddering and grey.
They say one king is slack and sick of mind,
A puppet for hid strings that twitch and play.
Well, You Neednt
© William Matthews
Rather than hold his hands properly
arched off the keys, like cats
with their backs up,
Monk, playing block chords,
hit the keys with his fingertips well
above his wrists,
Walking to School, 1964 by David Wojahn : American Life in Poetry #215 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureat
© Ted Kooser
To commemorate Mother's Day, here's a lovely poem by David Wojahn of Virginia, remembering his mother after forty years.
Walking to School, 1964
