Poem Hunter: Poems - Poets - Poetry

Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife!
To all the sensual world proclaim,
One crowded hour of glorious life
Is worth an age without a name.
...

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a gray mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

...

My to go its very good
So much born to very look
Go me sorry so well its
Very nice its very kids

Guy wall to its me well be
To get look its well to me
So me very so its good
Looked for it very blood


...

Now, a man in Oodnadatta
He grew fat, and he grew fatter,
Though he hardly had a thing to eat for dinner;
While a man in Booboorowie
Often sat and wondered how he
Could prevent himself from growing any thinner.

So the man from Oodnadatta
He came down to Booboorowie,
Where he rapidly grew flatter;
And the folk will tell you how he
Urged the man from Booboorowie
To go up to Oodnadatta -
Where he lived awhile, and now he
Is considerably fatter.
...

Tsars, Kings, Emperors,
sovereigns of all the earth,
have commanded many a parade,
but they could not command humor.
When Aesop, the tramp, came visiting
the palaces of eminent personages
ensconced in sleek comfort all day,
they struck him as paupers.
In houses, where hypocrites have
left the smear of their puny feet,

...

The sun, a molten orb of fiery grace,
Doth kiss the waves with golden, liquid trace.
A shimmering dance, a spectacle of light,
Reflecting hues, both day and starlit night.

From turquoise depths to emerald, jade, and gold,
The water's surface, a story to unfold.
Each tiny ripple, a canvas, bright and clear,
Where sunbeams paint, a vision, ever near.


...

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.


...