Women poems
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A River
© A. K. Ramanujan
In Madurai,
city of temples and poets,
who sang of cities and temples,
every summer
A Hymn Of Heavenly Beauty
© Edmund Spenser
Rapt with the rage of mine own ravish'd thought,
Through contemplation of those goodly sights,
God's Judgment on a Wicked Bishop
© Robert Southey
The summer and autumn had been so wet,
That in winter the corn was growing yet,
'Twas a piteous sight to see all around
The grain lie rotting on the ground.
God
© Isaac Rosenberg
In his malodorous brain what slugs and mire,
Lanthorned in his oblique eyes, guttering burned!
The Second Elegy
© Rainer Maria Rilke
If only we too could discover a pure contained
human place our own strip of fruit-bearing soil
between river and rock. For our own heart always exceeds us
as theirs did. And we can no longer follow it gazing
into images that soothe it into the godlike bodies
where measured more greatly if achieves a greater repose.
Snapshots of a Daughter-In-Law
© Adrienne Rich
You, once a belle in Shreveport,
with henna-colored hair, skin like a peachbud,
still have your dresses copied from that time,
and play a Chopin prelude
called by Cortot: "Delicious recollections
float like perfume through the memory."
Paula Becker to Clara Westhoff
© Adrienne Rich
The autumn feels slowed down,
summer still holds on here, even the light
From a Survivor
© Adrienne Rich
I don't know who we thought we were
that our personalities
could resist the failures of the race
For the Record
© Adrienne Rich
The clouds and the stars didn't wage this war
the brooks gave no information
if the mountain spewed stones of fire into the river
it was not taking sides
the raindrop faintly swaying under the leaf
had no political opinions
Modern Love XIV: What Soul Would Bargain
© George Meredith
What soul would bargain for a cure that brings
Contempt the nobler agony to kill?
A Sincere Man Am I
© José Martí
A sincere man am I
From the land where palm trees grow,
And I want before I die
My soul's verses to bestow.
Eye and Tooth
© Robert Lowell
My whole eye was sunset red,
the old cut cornea throbbed,
I saw things darkly,
as through an unwashed goldfish globe.
Inheritance-His
© Audre Lorde
Does an image of return
wealthy and triumphant
warm your chilblained fingers
as you count coins in the Manhattan snow
or is it only Linda
who dreams of home?
Every Dead One Has a Name
© Taja Kramberger
A decade ago,
a high-ranking party official warned me:
Stay a poet, as long as there’s still time.
Still time? Time for what?
Of Politics and Art
© Norman Dubie
Today I listened to a woman say
That Melville might
Be taught in the next decade. Another woman asked, "And why not?"
The first responded, "Because there are
No women in his one novel."
386. The Rights of Women-Spoken by Miss Fontenelle
© Robert Burns
WHILE Europe’s eye is fix’d on mighty things,
The fate of Empires and the fall of Kings;
While quacks of State must each produce his plan,
And even children lisp the Rights of Man;
Amid this mighty fuss just let me mention,
The Rights of Woman merit some attention.
