Women poems
/ page 117 of 142 /Keeping Going
© Seamus Justin Heaney
Piss at the gable, the dead will congregate.
But separately. The women after dark,
Hunkering there a moment before bedtime,
The only time the soul was let alone,
The only time that face and body calmed
In the eye of heaven.
Grandmothers Teaching
© Alfred Austin
``Grandmother dear, you do not know; you have lived the old-world life,
Under the twittering eaves of home, sheltered from storm and strife;
Rocking cradles, and covering jams, knitting socks for baby feet,
Or piecing together lavender bags for keeping the linen sweet:
Daughter, wife, and mother in turn, and each with a blameless breast,
Then saying your prayers when the nightfall came, and quietly dropping to rest.
Malcolm's Katie: A Love Story - Part II.
© Isabella Valancy Crawford
O, Love builds on the azure sea,
And Love builds on the golden sand;
And Love builds on the rose-wing'd cloud,
And sometimes Love builds on the land.
Bluebeard: Sonnet VI
© Edna St. Vincent Millay
This door you might not open, and you did;
So enter now, and see for what slight thing
The Fiddler
© Lola Ridge
In a little Hungarian cafe
Men and women are drinking
Yellow wine in tall goblets.
The Farewell to Clarimonde
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Adieu, Romauld! But thou canst not forget me.
Although no more I haunt thy dreams at night,
Thy hungering heart forever must regret me,
And starve for those lost moments of delight.
The Elves
© Denise Levertov
Elves are no smaller
than men, and walk
as men do, in this world,
but with more grace than most,
and are not immortal.
The House Of Dust: Part 03: 04: Illicit
© Conrad Aiken
She played this tune. And in the middle of it
Abruptly broke it off, letting her hands
Fall in her lap. She sat there so a moment,
With shoulders drooped, then lifted up a rose,
One great white rose, wide opened like a lotos,
And pressed it to her cheek, and closed her eyes.
Kate-A-Whimsies, John-A-Dream
© William Ernest Henley
Kate-a-Whimsies, John-a-Dream
Still debating, still delay,
And the worlds a ghost that gleams
Wavers vanishes away!
The House Of Dust: Complete (Long)
© Conrad Aiken
. . . Parts of this poem have been printed in "The North American
Review, Others, Poetry, Youth, Coterie, The Yale Review". . . . I am
indebted to Lafcadio Hearn for the episode called "The Screen Maiden"
in Part II.
Sweethearts
© Dame Mary Gilmore
ITS gettin bits o posies,
N feelin mighty good;
A-thrillin cause she loves you,
An wondrin why she should;
No Foe Shall Gather Our Harvest
© Dame Mary Gilmore
Sons of the mountains of Scotland,
Welshmen of coomb and defile,
Breed of the moors of England,
Children of Erin's green isle,
Lines To R. L.
© Henry Timrod
That which we are and shall be is made up
Of what we have been. On the autumn leaf
Skipper Ireson's Ride
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Of all the rides since the birth of time,
Told in story or sung in rhyme, -
On Apuleius' Golden Ass,
Or one-eyed Calendar's horse of brass,
Disarmament
© John Greenleaf Whittier
"Put up the sword!" The voice of Christ once more
Speaks, in the pauses of the cannon's roar,
O'er fields of corn by fiery sickles reaped
And left dry ashes; over trenches heaped
Jubilate Agno: Fragment B, Part 3
© Christopher Smart
For a Man is to be looked upon in that which he excells as on a prospect.