Poem Hunter: Poems - Poets - Poetry

He is not Hari, He is not the Lord Siva.
He is the Ultimate Cause,
In the Beyond of Beyond,
Transcending Blackness, Redness, and Whiteness.
Immovable.
Try not to understand:
He is not big, He is not small.
He is Infinite Distance,
Immovable,
Transcending even
Supreme Quiescence.
...

After Victor Hugo


Death and Beauty, see how these goddesses cast
So much light and shade, a wise man might say
They were sisters, both bountiful, frightful, vast,
Guarding the same enigma and mystery.

O ladies, dark and fair, sing, dance and be
Brilliant now, hypnotize me, make the most

...

Flower in desert,
Like a glimpse of peace in war,
It's dry yet stands.
...

SELF

Changeful comrade, Life of mine,
Before we two must part,
I will tell thee, thou shalt say,
What thou hast been and art.
Ere I lose my hold of thee
Justify thyself to me.

LIFE
I was thy warmth upon thy mother's knee
When light and love within her eyes were one;
We laughed together by the laurel-tree,
Culling warm daisies 'neath the sloping sun;
We heard the chickens' lazy croon,
Where the trellised woodbines grew,
And all the summer afternoon
Mystic gladness o'er thee threw.
Was it person? Was it thing?
Was it touch or whispering?
It was bliss and it was I:
Bliss was what thou knew'st me by.

SELF
Soon I knew thee more by Fear
And sense of what was not,
Haunting all I held most dear
I had a double lot:
Ardour, cheated with alloy,
Wept the more for dreams of joy.

...

Up from the bronze, I saw
Water without a flaw
Rush to its rest in air,
Reach to its rest, and fall.

Bronze of the blackest shade,
An element man-made,
Shaping upright the bare
Clear gouts of water in air.


...

The weather was icy cold
The noise was loud
The smell was thick
2 clicks away from the hiding shadow


A moment you don't account for,
A memory you never wanted
A song unsung


...

Now this is the story of Olaf
Who ages and ages ago
Lived right on the top of a mountain,
A mountain all covered with snow.

And he was quite pretty and tiny
With beautiful curling fair hair
And small hands like delicate flowers--
Cheeks kissed by the cold mountain air.

He lived in a hut made of pinewood
Just one little room and a door
A table, a chair, and a bedstead
And animal skins on the floor.

Now Olaf was partly fairy
And so never wanted to eat;
He thought dewdrops and raindrops were plenty
And snowflakes and all perfumes sweet.

In the daytime when sweeping and dusting
And cleaning were quite at an end,
He would sit very still on the doorstep
And dream--O, that he had a friend!

Somebody to come when he called them,
Somebody to catch by the hand,
Somebody to sleep with at night time,
Somebody who'd quite understand.


...

Maud went to college.
Sadie stayed home.
Sadie scraped life
With a fine toothed comb.

She didn't leave a tangle in
Her comb found every strand.
Sadie was one of the livingest chicks
In all the land.


...

I was so hungry
I ask my mother
'What's there to eat'
She replies without turning
'Its your favorite'
I wondered what my favorite was
I waited with excitement
imagining impossible things—
maybe approval,
maybe her smile.

...