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Waiting Poem by William Carlos Williams - Poem Hunter

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When I am alone I am happy. The air is cool. The sky is flecked and splashed and wound with color. The crimson phalloi of the sassafras leaves hang crowded before me in shoals on the heavy branches. When I reach my doorstep I am greeted by the happy shrieks of my children and my heart sinks. I am crushed. Are not my children as dear to me as falling leaves or must one become stupid to grow older? It seems much as if Sorrow had tripped up my heels. Let us see, let us see! What did I plan to say to her when it should happen to me as it has happened now? William Carlos Williams

There Was A Saviour Poem by Dylan Thomas - Poem Hunter

poet Dylan Thomas #25 on top 500 poets Poet's Page Poems Quotes Comments Stats E-Books Biography Videos Share on Facebook Share on Twitter Poems by Dylan Thomas : 85 / 100 « prev. poem next poem » There Was A Saviour - Poem by Dylan Thomas Autoplay next video There was a saviour Rarer than radium, Commoner than water, crueller than truth; Children kept from the sun Assembled at his tongue To hear the golden note turn in a groove, Prisoners of wishes locked their eyes In the jails and studies of his keyless smiles. The voice of children says From a lost wilderness There was calm to be done in his safe unrest, When hindering man hurt Man, animal, or bird We hid our fears in that murdering breath, Silence, silence to do, when earth grew loud, In lairs and asylums of the tremendous shout. There was glory to hear In the churches of his tears, Under his downy arm you sighed as he struck, O you who could not cry On to the ground when a man died Put a tear for joy in the unearthly flood And laid your cheek against a cloud-formed shell: Now in the dark there is only yourself and myself. Two proud, blacked brothers cry, Winter-locked side by side, To this inhospitable hollow year, O we who could not stir One lean sigh when we heard Greed on man beating near and fire neighbour But wailed and nested in the sky-blue wall Now break a giant tear for the little known fall, For the drooping of homes That did not nurse our bones, Brave deaths of only ones but never found, Now see, alone in us, Our own true strangers' dust Ride through the doors of our unentered house. Exiled in us we arouse the soft, Unclenched, armless, silk and rough love that breaks all rocks. Dylan Thomas

Jose Tadeu Agneli Filippini - Statistics of Jose Tadeu Agneli Filippini- Poem Hunter

Reader rating & num.of MyPoemList’s Click the captions of columns to change the order. # Poem Title Submit Date Reader Rating Num.of MyPoemList’s Rating Num.R. 1 Art 07/16/2006 9.4 5 0 2 Balada Da Salada 07/17/2006 -- 0 0 3 Ballad Of The Salad 07/17/2006 -- 0 0 4 Commodities 07/17/2006 -- 0 0 5 Godhamlet 07/17/2006 -- 0 0 6 On A City Called Sao Paulo 07/27/2006 10.0 1 0 7 Speed 07/17/2006 -- 0 0 8 The Universe 07/16/2006 10.0 1 0 9 The Wordlessness 07/16/2006 10.0 1 0 10 Universo 07/16/2006 -- 0 0

William Carlos Williams - William Carlos Williams Poems - Poem Hunter

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William Carlos Williams William Carlos Williams (17 September 1883 – 4 March 1963 / New Jersey)

Dylan Thomas - Dylan Thomas Poems - Poem Hunter

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Dylan Thomas Dylan Thomas (27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953 / Swansea / Wales)

2010

Confined Love by John Donne

Confined Love Some man unworthy to be possessor Of old or new love, himself being false or weak, Thought his pain and shame would be lesser If on womankind he might his anger wreak, And thence a law did grow, One might but one man know; But are other creatures so? Are Sun, Moon, or Stars by law forbidden To smile where they list, or lend away their light? Are birds divorced, or are they chidden If they leave their mate, or lie abroad a-night? Beasts do no jointures lose Though they new lovers choose, But we are made worse than those. Who e'er rigged fair ship to lie in harbours And not to seek new lands, or not to deal withal? Or built fair houses, set trees, and arbors, Only to lock up, or else to let them fall? Good is not good unless A thousand it possess, But dost waste with greediness. John Donne

A Broken Appointment by Thomas Hardy

You did not come, And marching Time drew on, and wore me numb. Yet less for loss of your dear presence there Than that I thus found lacking in your make That high compassion which can overbear Reluctance for pure lovingkindness' sake Grieved I, when, as the hope-hour stroked its sum, You did not come. You love not me, And love alone can lend you loyalty; -I know and knew it. But, unto the store Of human deeds divine in all but name, Was it not worth a little hour or more To add yet this: Once you, a woman, came To soothe a time-torn man; even though it be You love not me. A Broken Appointment Thomas Hardy (1840-1928 / Dorchester / England)

Poet: Henry David Thoreau - All poems of Henry David Thoreau

Henry David Thoreau (1817 - 1862 / Boston / United States) Biography Poems Quotations Comments More Info Stats

Mist by Henry David Thoreau

Low-anchored cloud, Newfoundland air, Fountain head and source of rivers, Dew-cloth, dream drapery, And napkin spread by fays; Drifting meadow of the air, Where bloom the dasied banks and violets, And in whose fenny labyrinth The bittern booms and heron wades; Spirit of the lake and seas and rivers, Bear only purfumes and the scent Of healing herbs to just men's fields! Henry David Thoreau Mist Henry David Thoreau (1817 - 1862 / Boston / United States)

2009

Poet: Emily Dickinson - All poems of Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson (1830-1886 / Amherst / Massachusetts) Biography Poems Quotations Comments More Info Stats Emily Dickinson grew up in a prominent and prosperous household in Amherst, Massachusetts. Along with her younger siter Lavinia and older brother Aust .. more >> 1472 poems of Emily Dickinson File Size:4538 k File Format: Acrobat Reader To download the eBook right-Click on the title and select "Save Target As".

2008

First Day at School by Roger McGough

First Day at School A millionbillionwillion miles from home Waiting for the bell to go. (To go where?) Why are they all so big, other children? So noisy? So much at home they Must have been born in uniform Lived all their lives in playgrounds Spent the years inventing games That don't let me in. Games That are rough, that swallow you up. And the railings. All around, the railings. Are they to keep out wolves and monsters? Things that carry off and eat children? Things you don't take sweets from? Perhaps they're to stop us getting out Running away from the lessins. Lessin. What does a lessin look like? Sounds small and slimy. They keep them in the glassrooms. Whole rooms made out of glass. Imagine. I wish I could remember my name Mummy said it would come in useful. Like wellies. When there's puddles. Yellowwellies. I wish she was here. I think my name is sewn on somewhere Perhaps the teacher will read it for me. Tea-cher. The one who makes the tea. Roger McGough

RPO -- Marianne Moore : Silence

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Marianne Moore (1887-1972) Silence 1My father used to say, 2"Superior people never make long visits, 3have to be shown Longfellow's grave 4nor the glass flowers at Harvard. 5Self reliant like the cat -- 6that takes its prey to privacy, 7the mouse's limp tail hanging like a shoelace from its mouth -- 8they sometimes enjoy solitude, 9and can be robbed of speech 10by speech which has delighted them. 11The deepest feeling always shows itself in silence; 12not in silence, but restraint." 13Nor was he insincere in saying, "`Make my house your inn'." 14Inns are not residences.

Silence by Marianne Moore

Silence My father used to say, "Superior people never make long visits, have to be shown Longfellow's grave nor the glass flowers at Harvard. Self reliant like the cat -- that takes its prey to privacy, the mouse's limp tail hanging like a shoelace from its mouth -- they sometimes enjoy solitude, and can be robbed of speech by speech which has delighted them. The deepest feeling always shows itself in silence; not in silence, but restraint." Nor was he insincere in saying, "`Make my house your inn'." Inns are not residences. Marianne Moore

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