Women poems
/ page 110 of 142 /Antonio Melidori
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
SCENE I.
[A place not far from the summit of Mount Psiloriti, in the Isle of Candia. Philota discovered with a basket of grapes upon her head; she looks eagerly upward. Time, a little before sunset.]
PHILOTA.
At Twenty-Eight by Amy Fleury: American Life in Poetry #59 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006
© Ted Kooser
Contrary to the glamorized accounts we often read about the lives of single women, Amy Fleury, a native of Kansas, presents us with a realistic, affirmative picture. Her poem playfully presents her life as serendipitous, yet she doesn't shy away from acknowledging loneliness.
At Twenty-Eight
Christmas At The Round Table
© John Hookham Frere
The great King Arthur made a royal feast,
And held his Royal Christmas at Carlisle,
Open Windows
© Sara Teasdale
OUT of the window a sea of green trees
Lift their soft boughs like the arms of a dancer,
They beckon and call me, "Come out in the sun!"
But I cannot answer.
Aurora Leigh: Book One
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
I, alas,
A wild bird scarcely fledged, was brought to her cage,
And she was there to meet me. Very kind.
Bring the clean water, give out the fresh seed.
In The Village Of My Ancestors
© Vasko Popa
Someone embraces me
Someone looks at me with the eyes of a wolf
Someone takes off his hat
So I can see him better
Troilus And Criseyde: Book 02
© Geoffrey Chaucer
Incipit Prohemium Secundi Libri.
Out of these blake wawes for to sayle,
Daily Trials by a Sensitive Man
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
At morning's call
The small-voiced pug-dog welcomes in the sun,
And flea-bit mongrels, wakening one by one,
Give answer all.
The Interrogation Of The Man Of Many Hearts
© Anne Sexton
She's the one I carried my bones to
and built a house that was just a cot
and built a life that was over an hour
and built a castle where no one lives
and built, in the end, a song
to go with the ceremony.
The Coal-Fire
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
1.
COME, we 'll light the parlor fire;
Winter sets in sharp and rough.
Wood is dear, but coal's provided,
The Division Of Parts
© Anne Sexton
1.
Mother, my Mary Gray,
once resident of Gloucester
and Essex County,
Never Give All The Heart
© William Butler Yeats
NEVER give all the heart, for love
Will hardly seem worth thinking of
Red Is The Color Of Blood
© Conrad Aiken
Red is the color of blood, and I will seek it:
I have sought it in the grass.
The Fury Of Beautiful Bones
© Anne Sexton
Sing me a thrush, bone.
Sing me a nest of cup and pestle.
Sing me a sweetbread fr an old grandfather.
Sing me a foot and a doorknob, for you are my love.
The Break Away
© Anne Sexton
I pray it will know truth,
if truth catches in its cup
and yet I pray, as a child would,
that the surgery take.
Flee On Your Donkey
© Anne Sexton
Today an intern knocks my knees,
testing for reflexes.
Once I would have winked and begged for dope.
Today I am terribly patient.
Today crows play black-jack
on the stethoscope.
The Author Of The Jesus Papers Speaks
© Anne Sexton
In my dream
I milked a cow,
the terrible udder
like a great rubber lily
The Wifebeater
© Anne Sexton
There will be mud on the carpet tonight
and blood in the gravy as well.
The wifebeater is out,
the childbeater is out
Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs
© Anne Sexton
No matter what life you lead
the virgin is a lovely number:
cheeks as fragile as cigarette paper,
arms and legs made of Limoges,