War poems
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The Triumph of Life
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
Swift as a spirit hastening to his task
Of glory & of good, the Sun sprang forth
Rejoicing in his splendour, & the mask
Of darkness fell from the awakened Earth.
To A Skylark
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
Hail to thee, blithe Spirit!
Bird thou never wert,
That from heaven, or near it,
Pourest thy full heart
In profuse strains of unpremeditated art.
The Space Coast
© Deborah Ager
FloridaAn Airedale rolling through green frost,
cabbage palms pointing their accusing leaves
at whom, petulant waves breaking at my feet.
I ran from them. Nights, yellow lights
Night: San Francisco
© Deborah Ager
Rain drenches the patio stones.
All night was spent waiting
for an earthquake, and instead
The Lake
© Deborah Ager
The yard half a yard,
half a lake blue as a corpse.
The lake will tell things you long to hear:
get away from here.
Three o'clock. Dry leaves rat-tat like maracas.
Any Man Speaks
© Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
I, after difficult entry through my mother's blood
And stumbling childhood (hitting my head against the world);
I, intricate, easily unshipped, untracked, unaligned;
Cut off in my communications; stammering; speaking
The British
© Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
We are a people living in shells and moving
Crablike; reticent, awkward, deeply suspicious;
Watching the world from a corner of half-closed eyelids,
Afraid lest someone show that he hates or loves us,
Afraid lest someone weep in the railway train.
Polyphony In A Cathedral
© Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
Music curls
In the stone shells
Of the arches, and rings
Their stone bells.
Attack On The Ad-Man
© Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
This trumpeter of nothingness, employed
To keep our reason dull and null and void.
This man of wind and froth and flux will sell
The wares of any who reward him well.
Black Morning Lovesong
© Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
And the question finds no answer
And the tune misleads the dancer
And the lost look finds no other
And the lost hand finds no brother
And the word is left unspoken
Till the theme and thread are broken.
June Sick Room
© Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
The birds' shrill fluting
Beats on the pink blind,
Pierces the pink blind
At whose edge fumble the sun's
Day Dream
© Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
One day people will touch and talk perhaps
easily,
And loving be natural as breathing and warm as
sunlight,
One Almost Might
© Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
Wouldn't you say,
Wouldn't you say: one day,
With a little more time or a little more patience, one might
Disentangle for separate, deliberate, slow delight
The Threat
© Denise Duhamel
my mother pushed my sister out of the apartment door with an empty
suitcase because she kept threatening to run away my sister was sick of me
getting the best of everything the bathrobe with the pink stripes instead of
the red the soft middle piece of bread while she got the crust I was sick with
asthma and she thought this made me a favorite
To His Love When He Had Obtained Her
© Sir Walter Raleigh
Now Serena be not coy,
Since we freely may enjoy
Sweet embraces, such delights,
As will shorten tedious nights.
To a Lady with an Unruly and Ill-mannered Dog Who Bit several Persons of Importance
© Sir Walter Raleigh
Your dog is not a dog of grace;
He does not wag the tail or beg;
He bit Miss Dickson in the face;
He bit a Bailie in the leg.
The Lie
© Sir Walter Raleigh
Go, Soul, the body's guest,
Upon a thankless errand;
Fear not to touch the best;
The truth shall be thy warrant:
Go, since I needs must die,
And give the world the lie.
Once a man clambering to the housetops
© Stephen Crane
Once a man clambering to the housetops
Appealed to the heavens.
With strong voice he called to the deaf spheres;
A warrior's shout he raised to the suns.
A slant of sun on dull brown walls,
© Stephen Crane
A slant of sun on dull brown walls,
A forgotten sky of bashful blue.Toward God a mighty hymn,
A song of collisions and cries,
Rumbling wheels, hoof-beats, bells,
The impact of a dollar upon the heart
© Stephen Crane
The impact of a dollar upon the heart
Smiles warm red light,
Sweeping from the hearth rosily upon the white table,
With the hanging cool velvet shadows
Moving softly upon the door.
