Women poems
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The Big Deeds
© Edgar Albert Guest
We are done with little thinking and we're done with little deeds,
We are done with petty conduct and we're done with narrow creeds;
At A Meeting Of Friends
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
I REMEMBER--why, yes! God bless me! and was it so long ago?
I fear I'm growing forgetful, as old folks do, you know;
It must have been in 'forty--I would say 'thirty-nine--
We talked this matter over, I and a friend of mine.
The Prison
© Arthur Symons
I am the prisoner of my love of you.
I pace my soul, as prisoned culprits do,
Poets At Seven Years
© Arthur Rimbaud
And the mother, closing the work-book
Went off, proud, satisfied, not seeing,
In the blue eyes, under the lumpy brow,
The soul of her child given over to loathing.
Custer: Book Third
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Were every red man slaughtered in a day,
Still would that sacrifice but poorly pay
For one insulted woman captive's woes.
Lament For The Death Of Eoghan Ruadh ONeill
© Thomas Osborne Davis
DID they dare, did they dare, to slay Eoghan Ruadh ONeill?
Yes, they slew with poison him they feared to meet with steel.
Don Juan: Canto The Tenth
© George Gordon Byron
When Newton saw an apple fall, he found
In that slight startle from his contemplation--
A Song Of Greek Prose
© Robert Fuller Murray
Thrice happy are those
Who ne'er heard of Greek Prose
Or Greek Poetry either, as far as that goes;
For Liddell and Scott
Shall cumber them not,
Nor Sargent nor Sidgwick shall break their repose.
Afterwards by David Baker: American Life in Poetry #133 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006
© Ted Kooser
It may be that we are most alone when attending funerals, at least that's how it seems to me. By alone I mean that even among throngs of mourners we pull back within ourselves and peer out at life as if through a window. David Baker, an Ohio poet, offers us a picture of a funeral that could be anybody's.
Afterwards
A short ride in the van, then the eight of us
there in the heatâwhite shirtsleeves sticking,
the women's gloves offâfanning our faces.
The workers had set up a big blue tent
The Ring And The Book - Chapter II - Half-Rome
© Robert Browning
All five soon somehow found themselves at Rome,
At the villa door: there was the warmth and light
The sense of life so just an inch inside
Some angel must have whispered One more chance!
Sauve Patria
© Ramon Lopez Velarde
Yo que sólo canté de la exquisita
partitura del íntimo decoro,
alzo hoy la voz a la mitad del foro
a la manera del tenor que imita
la gutural modulación del bajo,
para cortar a la epopeya un gajo.
"In Petersburg we'll meet again"
© Osip Emilevich Mandelstam
In Petersburg we'll meet again,
As though we'd buried the sun there,
And for the first time utter
The blessed, senseless word.
Homage To Sextus Propertius - I
© Ezra Pound
Flame burns, rain sinks into the cracks
And they all go to rack ruin beneath the thud of the years.
Stands genius a deathless adornment,
a name not to be worn out with the years.
A Digit Of The Moon
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
This book is written for Man's ultimate need,
A creed of joy sent down to the aged Earth
From days of happier daring and more mirth
To comfort and console all hearts that bleed.
In Response To A Rumor That The Oldest Whorehouse In Wheeling, West Virginia, Has Been Condemned
© James Wright
I will grieve alone,
As I strolled alone, years ago, down along
The Ohio shore.
I hid in the hobo jungle weeds
Upstream from the sewer main,
Pondering, gazing.
