Poem Hunter: Poems - Poets - Poetry

Now this is the story of Olaf
Who ages and ages ago
Lived right on the top of a mountain,
A mountain all covered with snow.

And he was quite pretty and tiny
With beautiful curling fair hair
And small hands like delicate flowers--
Cheeks kissed by the cold mountain air.

He lived in a hut made of pinewood
Just one little room and a door
A table, a chair, and a bedstead
And animal skins on the floor.

Now Olaf was partly fairy
And so never wanted to eat;
He thought dewdrops and raindrops were plenty
And snowflakes and all perfumes sweet.

In the daytime when sweeping and dusting
And cleaning were quite at an end,
He would sit very still on the doorstep
And dream--O, that he had a friend!

Somebody to come when he called them,
Somebody to catch by the hand,
Somebody to sleep with at night time,
Somebody who'd quite understand.


...

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.


...

I was so hungry
I ask my mother
'What's there to eat'
She replies without turning
'Its your favorite'
I wondered what my favorite was
I waited with excitement
imagining impossible things—
maybe approval,
maybe her smile.

...

Awake O Jadava, O Krishna the cowherd!
Who will take the cows to graze?
When hundreds of cowherds come thronging
Who will be their leader?
Awake O Jadava, O Krishna the cowherd!
Who will take the cows to graze?

Who will relish sweet dishes made from milk andghee?
Who will drink deliciously thickened milk?
O Hari, mighty like an elephant, who will bridle terrible Kaliya?
Who will bear the weight of the entire earth?
Awake O Jadava, O Krishna the cowherd!
Who will take the cows to graze?

While grazing the cows on the banks of Jamuna
Who will play the honeyed flute?
We will always please you by singing your praises, says Narsaiyya
Else, who will grasp our hands when we sink?
Awake O Jadava, O Krishna the cowherd!
Who will take the cows to graze?
...

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.

...

I saw you seated by the flame.
You outshone in frame and name.
This hand for faint a line I blame,
That has not painted you too well.

I searched you in the jostling crowd,
Your being when I saw set my core aloud.
Such face as yours is not behind the Cloud
As Nature still has painted you too well.


...

I wonder what those lovers mean, who say
They have giv'n their hearts away.
Some good kind lover tell me how;
For mine is but a torment to me now.

If so it be one place both hearts contain,
For what do they complain?
What courtesy can Love do more,
Than to join hearts that parted were before?

Woe to her stubborn heart, if once mine come
Into the self-same room;
'Twill tear and blow up all within,
Like a granado shot into a magazine.

Then shall Love keep the ashes, and torn parts,
Of both our broken hearts:
Shall out of both one new one make,
From hers, th' allay; from mine, the metal take.

For of her heart he from the flames will find
But little left behind:
Mine only will remain entire;
No dross was there, to perish in the fire.
...

They lie in parallel rows,
on ice, head to tail,
each a foot of luminosity
barred with black bands,
which divide the scales'
radiant sections

like seams of lead
in a Tiffany window.
Iridescent, watery

...

The rain withdraws,
and puddles are born-
purposeful pools
gathered like praying circles
in the hollows of the earth.
Children arrive first,
their laughter breaking the morning,
feet splashing through reddish-brown water
the elders step around
with practiced caution.

...