Poem Hunter: Poems - Poets - Poetry

Merrily swim we, the moon shines bright,
Both current and ripple are dancing in light.
We have roused the night raven, I heard him croak
As we plashed along beneath the oak
That flings its broad branches so far and so wide,
Their shadows are dancing in the midst of the tide.
'Who wakens my nestlings,' the raven he said,
'My beak shall ere morn in his blood be red,
For a blue-swollen corpse is a dainty meal,
And I’ll have my share with the pike and the eel.'

II.
Merrily swim we, the moon shines bright,
There's a golden gleam on the distant height;
There's a silver shadow on the alders dank,
And the drooping willows that wave on the bank.
I see the Abbey, both turret and tower,
It is all astir for the vesper hour;
The monks for the chapel are leaving each cell,
But where’s Father Philip, should toll the bell?

III.
Merrily swim we, the moon shines bright,
Downward we drift through shadow and light.
Under yon rock the eddies sleep,
Calm and silent, dark and deep.
The Kelpy has risen from the fathomless pool,
He hath lighted his candle of death and of dool:
Look, Father, look, and you’ll laugh to see
How he gapes and he glares with his eyes on thee!

...

Maud went to college.
Sadie stayed home.
Sadie scraped life
With a fine toothed comb.

She didn't leave a tangle in
Her comb found every strand.
Sadie was one of the livingest chicks
In all the land.


...

In the cradle of chaos, where tempests convene,
I bartered my shadows for your fleeting dawn—
Surrendered the stars that once lit my scene,
And wove from their embers a vow never drawn.

All for love, the thorns I embraced like a crown,
Bleeding rivers of silence to quench your wild fire;
I danced on the razor's unyielding frown,
And traded my echoes for your heart's desire.


...

Always up to some prank, this mischievous little Govindji over there
It's always I who has to suffer!
As this little cowherd foolishly totters, the girl becomes fervid!
Always up to some prank, this mischievous little Govindji over there
It's always I who has to suffer!

‘Kum now yoo, vow eye doo', if you can't speak properly why do you babble like this?
Says Narsaiyyo, stop all these childish pranks, just take us to your place, and enjoy us!
Always up to some prank, this mischievous little Govindji over there
It's always I who has to suffer!
...

Cried the navy-blue ghost
Of Mr. Belaker
The allegro Negro cocktail-shaker,
"Why did the cock crow,
Why am I lost,
Down the endless road to Infinity toss'd?
The tropical leaves are whispering white
As water; I race the wind in my flight.
The white lace houses are carried away
By the tide; far out they float and sway.

...

A memory's ghost, a shifting sand,
The girl I knew is out of hand.
I thought I knew your heart, your plea,
But now, I find a stranger's 'you.'
I'll never lose the hurtful words,
The blame you laid in cruel herds.
That shrapnel stays, a vivid scar,
Reminding me of who you are.
I'll keep the comfort that you lent,
The kind embrace, the time we spent,

...

The Fire, Air, Earth and water did contest
Which was the strongest, noblest and the best,
Who was of greatest use and might'est force;
In placide Terms they thought now to discourse,
That in due order each her turn should speak;
But enmity this amity did break
All would be chief, and all scorn'd to be under
Whence issu'd winds & rains, lightning & thunder
The quaking earth did groan, the Sky lookt black
The Fire, the forced Air, in sunder crack;
The sea did threat the heav'ns, the heavn's the earth,
All looked like a Chaos or new birth:
Fire broyled Earth, & scorched Earth it choaked
Both by their darings, water so provoked
That roaring in it came, and with its source
Soon made the Combatants abate their force
The rumbling hissing, puffing was so great
The worlds confusion, it did seem to threat
Till gentle Air, Contention so abated
That betwixt hot and cold, she arbitrated
The others difference, being less did cease
All storms now laid, and they in perfect peace
That Fire should first begin, the rest consent,
The noblest and most active Element.
...

I keep on dying again.
Veins collapse, opening like the
Small fists of sleeping
Children.
Memory of old tombs,
Rotting flesh and worms do
Not convince me against
The challenge. The years
And cold defeat live deep in
Lines along my face.

...

Before the word, before the Justify

We walk with reasons like smooth stones in hand,
Polished by hours of worried, thumbing thought.
We build our cairns on any shifting land
To mark the path our burdened feet have bought.
The"why" we whisper to the evening air,
A fragile bridge from action to the cause,
A scaffold built to show our doing's fair,
To hold the shape of self against the flaws.

...