Poem Hunter: Poems - Poets - Poetry

Our death is in the cool of night,
our life is in the pool of day.
The darkness glows, I’m drowning,
the day has tired me with light.

Over my head in leaves grown deep,
sings the young nightingale.
It only sings of love there,
I hear it in my sleep.
...

Cats no less liquid than their shadows
Offer no angles to the wind.
They slip, diminished, neat through loopholes
Less than themselves; will not be pinned

To rules or routes for journeys; counter
Attack with non-resistance; twist
Enticing through the curving fingers
And leave an angered empty fist.


...

So fragile is a loving heart
That breaks in two as loved ones depart
To long for them each passing day
To yearn for them in every way.

So blue is the sky on a flawless summer's day
That fills our heart with thoughts so gay
To sit beneath that bright full sun
Remembering days when life was fun.


...

I ask for a moment's indulgence to sit by thy side. The works
that I have in hand I will finish afterwards.

Away from the sight of thy face my heart knows no rest nor respite,
and my work becomes an endless toil in a shoreless sea of toil.

Today the summer has come at my window with its sighs and murmurs; and
the bees are plying their minstrelsy at the court of the flowering grove.

Now it is time to sit quite, face to face with thee, and to sing
dedication of life in this silent and overflowing leisure.
...

How do the winter moths survive when other moths die? What enables them to avoid freezing as they rest, and what makes it possible for them to fly -- and so to seek food and mates -- in the cold?
Bernd Heinrich, Scientific American

1. The Himalayas

The room lies there, immaculate, bone light
on white walls, shell-pink carpet, and pale, too,
are the wrists and hands of professors gathered
in the outer hall where behind darkness
and a mirror they can observe unseen.

...

Who wrote the lyrics and where are they?
I enjoy the rhymes, which are like pearls on a necklace.
Every word has its own melody,
just like the waves of the ocean.
Will it find its way to a lover's heart?
Will it comfort and ease the sufferer's pain?

I set each word to music,
like the seven colors of the rainbow.
Oh, I missed something!

...

THE CHANCELLOR mused as he nibbled his pen
(Sure no Minister ever looked wiser),
And said, “I can summon a million of men
To fight for their country and Kaiser;

“While that shallow charlatan ruling o’er France,
Who deems himself deeper than Merlin,
Thinks he and his soldiers have only to dance
To the tune of the Can-can to Berlin.

“But as soon as he gets to the bank of the Rhine,
He’ll be met by the great German army.”
Then the Chancellor laughed, and he said, “I will dine,
For I see nothing much to alarm me.”

Yet still as he went out he paused by the door
(For his mind was in truth heavy laden),
And he saw a stout fellow, equipped for the war,
Embracing a fair-haired young maiden.

“Ho! ho!” said the Chancellor, “this will not do,
For Mars to be toying with Venus,
When these Frenchmen are coming—a rascally crew!—
And the Rhine only flowing between us.”

So the wary old fox, just in order to hear,
Strode one or two huge paces nearer;
And he heard the youth say, “More than life art thou dear;
But, O loved one, the Fatherland’s dearer.”


...

Evening is part of the jig-saw truth of her,
ply-wood ply-flesh, her insolent reply
blinding the ace with a straight shot to centre,
the woman's a delicate devil in twenty places
blander and blonder, tinder tenderly
setting the smiles on fire in men's faces.

On any evening gets you ready for dark
swathes and saves you for the magic carpet
spirits you anywhere anytime anyhow

...

The only wonder i never know,
Is her undying love for everyone;
The only friend i failed to trust,
Was kitara our happy and peaceful dog.


She'd hit me with a dancing tail;
With all joy, she'd jumped out for a hug
And would give me a cold kiss in the leg.
Yet i would kicked her like a dirt-bag.

...