Poem Hunter: Poems - Poets - Poetry

Oxen and sheep were brought back down
Long ago, and bramble gates closed. Over
Mountains and rivers, far from my old garden,
A windswept moon rises into clear night.

Springs trickle down dark cliffs, and autumn
Dew fills ridgeline grasses. My hair seems
Whiter in lamplight. The flame flickers
Good fortune over and over -- and for what?
...

Dear Reader,

A poem at the centre of the collection,
Is missing, as you can gather.
To speak truly, its absence, equally
Baffles me. Did I lose it to computer virus
Or did the censor excise it;
Or were there only twenty-nine in all,
Making this the unwritten poem?
Or does this represent the overwhelmingly absent presence,

...

"Where did she go? " Aunt said.
I heard vividly from behind as I ran.
I ran with the world in my head.
I didn't know I was lost…maybe in my head or maybe in my mind.
I was a lost Princess, Nightingale.

I admired my dress in Scarlet as the finest.
And I must confess, I was silly not like the lily.
Believe me, I didn't know I was lost…maybe in my head or maybe in my mind.


...

Know'st thou not at the fall of the leaf
How the heart feels a languid grief
Laid on it for a covering,
And how sleep seems a goodly thing
In Autumn at the fall of the leaf?

And how the swift beat of the brain
Falters because it is in vain,
In Autumn at the fall of the leaf
Knowest thou not? and how the chief
Of joys seems—not to suffer pain?

Know'st thou not at the fall of the leaf
How the soul feels like a dried sheaf
Bound up at length for harvesting,
And how death seems a comely thing
In Autumn at the fall of the leaf?
...

Unspeakable. The word that fills up the
poem, that the head
tries to excise.
At 6 a.m., the wet lion. Its sewn plush face
on the porch rail in the rain.
Heavy rains later, & maybe a thunderstorm.
12 or 13 degrees.

Inside: an iris, candle, poster of the
many-breasted Artemis in a stone hat

...

He holds her hand through everyday,
in every challenge, come what may.
With gentle words and a steady heart,
he's there for her, from the start.

Through every smile and every tear,
he stands besides her, always near.
In all she dreams and all she fear,
he's her support, her love, her cheer.
...

Even such is Time, that takes in trust
Our youth, our joys, our all we have,
And pays us but with earth and dust;
   Who in the dark and silent grave,
When we have wander'd all our ways,
Shuts up the story of our days;
But from this earth, this grave, this dust,
My God shall raise me up, I trust.
...

why am i doing this? Failure
to keep my work in order so as
to be able to find things
to paint the house
to earn enough money to live on
to reorganize the house so as
to be able to paint the house &
to be able to find things and
earn enough money so as
to be able to put books together

...

His Face

Strolling through the city's pulsing heart,
I searched for the one who'd capture mine.
Among the crowd, his face shone bright,
A radiant beacon, elegantly designed.
His smile, a gentle breeze on a summer's day,
Alluring, leaving my heart in disarray.



...