Poem Hunter: Poems - Poets - Poetry

Going to sleep, I cross my hands on my chest.
They will place my hands like this.
It will look as though I am flying into myself.
...

Reading physics in the Charger
at North Bondi; after a while
it gets hard to concentrate.
All that sunlight.

Clouds moving just fast enough
to be boring if you watch them,
totally different the next time you look.
All that wind.


...

A Child Of Forbearance....

the wind in the willows,
are playing with the grass beneath,

what day is it today,
that heat of today?

Such a beautiful day,
let's play in the hay

...

? or John Fletcher.

ORPHEUS with his lute made trees
And the mountain tops that freeze
   Bow themselves when he did sing:
To his music plants and flowers
Ever sprung; as sun and showers
   There had made a lasting spring.

Every thing that heard him play,
Even the billows of the sea,
   Hung their heads and then lay by.
In sweet music is such art,
   Killing care and grief of heart
   Fall asleep, or hearing, die.
...

Give me your hand

Make room for me
to lead and follow
you
beyond this rage of poetry.

Let others have
the privacy of
touching words

...

The ship is afloat
The hour strikes
Water ripples beneath
The sky is clear
let us secretly steer

The captain, his crew
The planets and stars
Moon is yet to arrive
The sky is palest of blue

...

Fear no more the heat o' the sun;
Nor the furious winter's rages,
Thou thy worldly task hast done,
Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages;
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney sweepers come to dust.

Fear no more the frown of the great,
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke:
Care no more to clothe and eat;
To thee the reed is as the oak:
The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this, and come to dust.

Fear no more the lightning-flash,
Nor the all-dread thunder-stone;
Fear not slander, censure rash;
Thou hast finished joy and moan;
All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee, and come to dust.

No exorciser harm thee!
Nor no witchcraft charm thee!
Ghost unlaid forbear thee!
Nothing ill come near thee!
Quiet consummation have;
And renowned be thy grave!
...

When the spent sun throws up its rays on cloud
And goes down burning into the gulf below,
No voice in nature is heard to cry aloud
At what has happened. Birds, at least must know
It is the change to darkness in the sky.
Murmuring something quiet in her breast,
One bird begins to close a faded eye;
Or overtaken too far from his nest,
Hurrying low above the grove, some waif
Swoops just in time to his remembered tree.

...

lovers walk hand in hand, and in military step
lovers don't wear seatbelts, it's worth the risk
lovers groom each other, like the lion and lioness
lovers shower together., in the warm waters of lust
lovers dine together, and feed the fires of amore
lovers sleep together, and dream of one another
lovers separate, but are never alone
lovers remain silent, and have great conversation
lovers are insane, sanity is over rated.
lovers never grow old, the rest of us are mere mortals.
...