poems

runes of rhyme

Order by Title Author

Howl by Allen Ginsberg: HOWL For Carl Solomon I I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix, angelheaded ...
THE ROAD AND THE END by Carl Sandburg: I SHALL foot it Down the roadway in the dusk, Where shapes of hunger wander And the fugitives of pain go by. I shall foot it In the silence of the morning, See the night slur into dawn, Hear the slow great winds arise Where tall trees flank the way And shoulder toward the sky. The broken boulders by ...
LANGUAGES by Carl Sandburg: THERE are no handles upon a language Whereby men take hold of it And mark it with signs for its remembrance. It is a river, this language, Once in a thousand years Breaking a new course Changing its way to the ocean. It is mountain effluvia Moving to valleys And from nation to nation Crossing borders ...
DREAM GIRL by Carl Sandburg: YOU will come one day in a waver of love, Tender as dew, impetuous as rain, The tan of the sun will be on your skin, The purr of the breeze in your murmuring speech, You will pose with a hill-flower grace. You will come, with your slim, expressive arms, A poise of the head no sculptor has caught And ...
WHO AM I? by Carl Sandburg: MY head knocks against the stars. My feet are on the hilltops. My finger-tips are in the valleys and shores of universal life. Down in the sounding foam of primal things I reach my hands and play with pebbles of destiny. I have been to hell and back many times. I know all about heaven, ...
it-tuffula by thaabit: Timberbrook: long removed from Framingham and Charlotte land Was the place of my upbring, with a big yard and a sandbox. Among the elms, oaks, sycamores; peach, cherry, apple, pear, and pecan trees, Leaves were not scant in the autumn breeze, before the freeze. Broken Arrow, as the Seminoles taught us, ...
Power of a Word by Tami E. Townsend: Should I yet be softer. So harsh. Language - leaving innocence not to savor. Taming the tongue. Profanity - cannot be undone. Human attempts. Disappointment. Contempt. Discretion non - intact. Language - darkly at a twist. Headlong ; dirt, curses - untamable Try, try again. Being quick to hear - slow ...
The Thinker by Berton Braley: By which the steel is wrought, Back of the workshop's clamor The seeker may find the Thought, The Thought that is ever master Of iron and steam and steel, That rises above disaster And tramples it under heel! The drudge may fret and tinker Or labor with lusty blows, But back of him stands the Thinker, ...
AIR AND ANGELS by John Donne: TWICE or thrice had I loved thee, Before I knew thy face or name ; So in a voice, so in a shapeless flame Angels affect us oft, and worshipp'd be. Still when, to where thou wert, I came, Some lovely glorious nothing did I see. But since my soul, whose child love is, Takes limbs of flesh, ...
The Silken Tent by Robert Frost: She is as in a field a silken tent At midday when a sunny summer breeze Has dried the dew and all its ropes relent, So that in guys it gently sways at ease, And its supporting central cedar pole, That is its pinnacle to heavenward And signifies the sureness of the soul, Seems to owe naught to any single ...
Love is no eagle by Carol Lynn Pearson: Love is no eagle, Strong Amid the heights. It is an egg. A fertile, fragile Possibility. Hold it close Within your wing, Beneath your breast. Perhaps in heaven Love can live Self-nourished, Free. But in this world Where mountains fall And west winds blow, Be careful, Love is embryo.
The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Eliot: S'io credesse che mia risposta fosse A persona che mai tornasse al mondo, Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse. Ma perciocche giammai di questo fondo Non torno vivo alcun, s'i'odo il vero, Senza tema d'infamia ti rispondo. LET us go then, you and I, When the evening is spread ...
Very like a Whale by Ogden Nash: One thing that literature would be greatly the better for Would be a more restricted employment by authors of simile and metaphor. Authors of all races, be they Greeks, Romans, Teutons or Celts, Can'ts seem just to say that anything is the thing it is but have to go out of their way to say that it ...
Eloisa to Abelard by Alexander Pope: In these deep solitudes and awful cells, Where heav'nly-pensive contemplation dwells, And ever-musing melancholy reigns; What means this tumult in a vestal's veins? Why rove my thoughts beyond this last retreat? Why feels my heart its long-forgotten heat? Yet, yet I love!--From Abelard it came, ...
Self-pity by DH Lawrence: I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself. A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough without ever having felt sorry for itself.
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost: Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village, though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow. My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year. He gives his harness ...
Road Not Taken by Robert Frost: Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as ...
Nothing Gold Can Stay by Robert Frost: Nature's first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leafs a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay.
Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night by Dylan Thomas: Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night. Good men, the last wave by, crying ...
The centipede by Ogden Nash: I objurgate the centipede, A bug we do not really need.
I Sing the Body Electric by Walt Whitman: I I sing the body electric, The armies of those I love engirth me and I engirth them, They will not let me off till I go with them, respond to them, And discorrupt them, and charge them full with the charge of the soul. Was it doubted that those who corrupt their own bodies conceal themselves? And if ...
I am a fish of the sky! by Steve Martin: I am a fish of the sky! a cloud of the sea! blue is to fish, as sky is to me.
In Dillan's Grove by Steve Martin aka John Lillison: In Dillan's Grove my love did die, and now in ground shall ever lie. None could ever replace her visage, until your face brought thoughts of kissage.
Invictus by William Ernest Henley: Out of the night that covers me, Black as the Pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul. In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeonings of chance My head is bloody, but unbowed. Beyond this place of wrath and ...
Kubla Khan by Samuel Taylor Coleridge: In Xanadu did Kubla Khan A stately pleasure-dome decree: Where Alph, the sacred river, ran Through caverns measureless to man Down to a sunless sea. So twice five miles of fertile ground With walls and towers were girdled round: And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills, Where blossomed many ...

page 1 2