On Looking Into Keats's Letters
This for certain, Keats has a temper;
he knows how to take it and dish it out.
Mark well when he warns us,
Keats will decode our doubts.
Or misbehave at the party buffet freely,
cause fastidious guests to
veer away queasily.
He might even ill-use our most precious sofa,
as he separates us from our loneliest offer.
And foodfighting to submission our implacable blase,
he'll drink our cool, cellar-hid claret,
hatch sonnets in our lingerie.
He'll hang hostiles in the garret,
drip honey over all our storage density.
Then speaking of beauty when we're bored,
he'll vex with seriousness all our leisure activities.
Some morning, when we're cranky,
and narrow, and bleary,
we'll find Keats a saint, but since he's shone bright too early,
we'll lock him in cupboards with freaks and imponderables,
and swear the key to happiness is
status and convertibles.
Jay Mandeville's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (On Looking Into Keats's Letters by Jay Mandeville )
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
A Dream Within A Dream
Edgar Allan Poe
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(13 September 1916 – 23 November 1990)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936)
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Dreams, Langston Hughes
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings, Maya Angelou
- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
- Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost
- Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep, Mary Elizabeth Frye