Poem Hunter: Poems - Poets - Poetry

I am Day; I bring again
Life and glory, Love and pain:
Awake, arise! from death to death
Through me the World's tale quickeneth.
...

I love this byre. Shadows are kindly here.
The light is flecked with travelling stars of dust,
So quiet it seems after the inn-clamour,
Scraping of fiddles and the stamping feet.
Only the cows, each in her patient box,
Turn their slow eyes, as we and the sunlight enter,
Their slowly rhythmic mouths.
‘That is the stall,
Carpenter. You see it’s too far gone
For patching or repatching. My husband made it,

...

Some people write poems,
While I write feelings.
Feelings that become solemn,
For some, it might become a healing.

Don't be frightened by the dark,
Come, out to the light.
Here you will make your mark—
Don't be afraid of the night.


...

Sleep, sleep, my beloved,
without worry, without fear,
although my soul does not sleep,
although I do not rest.

Sleep, sleep, and in the night
may your whispers be softer
than a leaf of grass,
or the silken fleece of lambs.

May my flesh slumber in you,
my worry, my trembling.
In you, may my eyes close
and my heart sleep.
...

Speak earth and bless me with what is richest
make sky flow honey out of my hips
rigis mountains
spread over a valley
carved out by the mouth of rain.

And I knew when I entered her I was
high wind in her forests hollow
fingers whispering sound
honey flowed

...

The temperate sun shines on your perfect skin
Glowing gold flakes surround your eyes
Just for a minute, let me stare within
Just for a minute, let me pretend you're mine

Your touch is so delicate, so smooth and thin
Your presence blazes me and makes me cry
Just for a second, the world spins
Just for a second, you don't have to be so kind


...

Upon the road of my life,
Passed me many fair creatures,
Clothed all in white, and radiant.
To one, finally, I made speech:
"Who art thou?"
But she, like the others,
Kept cowled her face,
And answered in haste, anxiously,
"I am good deed, forsooth;
You have often seen me."
"Not uncowled," I made reply.
And with rash and strong hand,
Though she resisted,
I drew away the veil
And gazed at the features of vanity.
She, shamefaced, went on;
And after I had mused a time,
I said of myself,
"Fool!"
...

I. THEIR BASIC SAVAGERY

Fat black bucks in a wine-barrel room,
Barrel-house kings, with feet unstable,
Sagged and reeled and pounded on the table,
A deep rolling bass.
Pounded on the table,
Beat an empty barrel with the handle of a broom,
Hard as they were able,
Boom, boom, BOOM,

...

I, myself, love the nature of nature
A sepulchre is the nature but the darkness inside
Dark roses flourished close to the pasture
Then my father said it's not natural but suicide

My childhood was different than silence
The oak trees and the lilies are the picture
When the rain is more valuable than the silence
Noise and silence form the natural mixture


...