Poems begining by W

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Worthy Places

© Ivan Donn Carswell

There were some worthy places where we could escape,
avoid the heavy weight of living in a densely
peopled space; the first was to the outside loo
(the only loo but where at least the toilet paper

Where The Creek Used To Run

© Ivan Donn Carswell

In ash-fine silt that spread like sand
after the flood and before the wild weeds
claimed the old stream bed;
before thistle phalanxes sprang

As a child I played in the same frosty fields
barefoot as my no lesser loved classmates,
whom we challenged to show courage in the numbing cold,
then together we held our chilled fingers over the roaring stove
that warmed our prefabricated, asbestos-sided classroom.

Winter Uplands

© Archibald Lampman

The frost that stings like fire upon my cheek,
The loneliness of this forsaken ground,
The long white drift upon whose powdered peak
I sit in the great silence as one bound;

When I Close My Eyes

© Ivan Donn Carswell

When I close my eyes I cannot reconstruct your face
but the three-dimensional solidity or you
bursts through the tissues of my skin,
transmogrified by a tactile binary fusion.

What does it take?

© Ivan Donn Carswell

Is the current rate of global warming
a serious and cogent warning?
Do we need to think about the fact
that higher tides will drown Pacific island states

What a weekend

© Ivan Donn Carswell

What a weekend, it certainly defied all the pundits trends,
the World Game French were trashed by Versace and petulance,
the Wallabies by a graphic haka, while Wimbledon saw the Amazons
revenge and Switzerlands answer was Roger Federer in eminence.

We, The Living

© Ivan Donn Carswell

There were moments when we rose above despair
borne by strength of spirit in your name,
but tragedy remained in darkened shadow's
gloom beneath your widow's eyes.

We reflect this day on the essence of intimacy

© Ivan Donn Carswell

We reflect this day on the essence of intimacy,
from its origins in the spring-tide of youth
to an afterward secured in distant mist
in awe for the reason and to what end it endures.

Water Babes

© Ivan Donn Carswell

We were water babes, born in the arms of a sparkling brook
that patiently took us into its heart. At the very start we
were never far from its shingly banks, playing amid ranks
of serried wildflowers. When one of us all but drowned

What Was Lost

© William Butler Yeats

I SING what was lost and dread what was won,
I walk in a battle fought over again,
My king a lost king, and lost soldiers my men;
Feet to the Rising and Setting may run,
They always beat on the same small stone.

Woodstock Park

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Here in a little rustic hermitage

Alfred the Saxon King, Alfred the Great,

Waiting For The Beloved -- English Translation

© Rabindranath Tagore

My dearest friend, for your tryst

You have chosen this stormy night

Why England Is Conservative

© Alfred Austin

Because of our dear Mother, the fair Past,

On whom twin Hope and Memory safely lean,

Whimper Of Sympathy

Hawk or shrike has done this deed
Of downy feathers: rueful sight!
Sweet sentimentalist, invite
Your bosom's Power to intercede.

Warble Of Lilac-Time

© Walt Whitman

My mind henceforth, and all its meditations-my recitatives,
My land, my age, my race, for once to serve in songs,
(Sprouts, tokens ever of death indeed the same as life,)
To grace the bush I love-to sing with the birds,
A warble for joy of Lilac-time.

Web

Intricate and untraceable
weaving and interweaving,
dark strand with light:

Wanting The Moon

Not the moon. A flower
on the other side of the water.The water sweeps past in flood,
dragging a whole tree by the hair,a barn, a bridge. The flower
sings on the far bank.Not a flower, a bird calling