John Berryman

(25 October 1914 - 7 January 1972 / McAlester, Oklahoma)

John Berryman Poems

If you see a poem only with title, it is listed that way because of copyright reasons.
121. Keep Your Eyes Open When You Kiss 1/3/2003
122. Dream Song 63: Bats Have No Bankers And They Do Not Drink 1/13/2003
123. Dream Song 127: Again, His Friend's Death Made The Man Sit Still 1/13/2003
124. Dream Song 64: Supreme My Holdings, Greater Yet My Need 1/13/2003
125. Dream Song 27: The Greens Of The Ganges Delta Foliate 1/13/2003
126. Dream Song 117: Disturbed, When Henry's Love Returned With A Hubby 1/13/2003
127. Dream Song 13: God Bless Henry 1/13/2003
128. Dream Song 23: The Lay Of Ike 1/13/2003
129. Dream Song 118: He Wondered: Do I Love? All This Applause 1/13/2003
130. Dream Song 47: April Fool's Day, Or, St Mary Of Egypt 1/13/2003
131. Dream Song 2: Big Buttons, Cornets: The Advance 1/13/2003
132. Winter Landscape 1/1/2004
133. Dream Song 36: The High Ones Die, Die. They Die 1/13/2003
134. The Curse 1/3/2003
135. Dream Song 28: Snow Line 1/13/2003
136. Dream Song 115: Her Properties, Like Her Of Course &Amp; Frisky &Amp; New 1/13/2003
137. Dream Song 104: Welcome, Grinned Henry, Welcome, Fifty-One! 1/13/2003
138. Dream Song 107: Three 'Coons Come At His Garbage. He Be Cross 1/13/2003
139. Dream Song 114: Henry In Trouble Whirped Out Lonely Whines 1/13/2003
140. Dream Song 4: Filling Her Compact &Amp; Delicious Body 1/13/2003
141. Dream Song 102: The Sunburnt Terraces Which Swans Make Home 1/13/2003
142. Dream Song 116: Through The Forest, Followed, Henry Made His Silky Way 1/13/2003
143. Dream Song 101: A Shallow Lake, With Many Waterbirds 1/13/2003
144. Dream Song 11: His Mother Goes. The Mother Comes &Amp; Goes. 1/13/2003
145. Dream Song 103: I Consider A Song Will Be As Humming-Bird 1/13/2003
146. Dream Song 112: My Framework Is Broken, I Am Coming To An End 1/13/2003
147. Dream Song 110: It Was The Blue &Amp; Plain Ones. I Forget All That 1/13/2003
148. Dream Song 111: I Miss Him. When I Get Back To Camp 1/13/2003
149. Dream Song 100: How This Woman Came By The Courage 1/13/2003
150. Dream Song 105: As A Kid I Believed In Democracy: I 1/13/2003
151. Dream Song 106: 28 July 1/13/2003
152. Dream Song 10: There Were Strange Gatherings. A Vote Would Come 1/13/2003
153. Dream Song 113: Or Amy Vladeck Or Riva Freifeld 1/13/2003
154. The Traveller 1/13/2003
155. Dream Song 29: There Sat Down, Once, A Thing 1/13/2003
156. Dream Song 14: Life, Friends, Is Boring 1/13/2003
157. The Ball Poem 1/3/2003
158. Dream Song 1: Huffy Henry Hid The Day 1/13/2003

Comments about John Berryman

  • Strange Keith (2/24/2018 12:30:00 PM)

    This guy Berryman makes my itch.

    0 person liked.
    2 person did not like.
  • Christopher Amati (9/4/2014 5:37:00 PM)

    I am reading Dream Songs. I cant really like this poetry. I like Lowell so much, I thought I could eventually like Berryman, but no. Lowell is sculptural, so dramatic and so inventive. Berryman just seems kind of...whiny

  • Kenneth Belknap (4/1/2011 10:37:00 PM)

    Came here just to find some of the Dream Songs. Are there lots of poets who are unreadable on this sight?

  • Aj Pinquot (6/27/2010 7:48:00 PM)

    Is there any way to actually, you know, read the effing poems?

  • Ravi Avasthi (8/30/2009 11:27:00 AM)

    too early to comment, just opened my account

Best Poem of John Berryman

Dream Song 1: Huffy Henry Hid The Day

Huffy Henry hid the day,
unappeasable Henry sulked.
I see his point,—a trying to put things over.
It was the thought that they thought
they could do it made Henry wicked & away.
But he should have come out and talked.

All the world like a woolen lover
once did seem on Henry's side.
Then came a departure.
Thereafter nothing fell out as it might or ought.
I don't see how Henry, pried
open for all the world to see, survived.

What he has now to say is a long
wonder the world can bear & be.
Once in a sycamore I was glad
all at ...

Read the full of Dream Song 1: Huffy Henry Hid The Day

Dream Song 99: Temples

He does not live here but it is the god.
A priest tools in a top his motorbike.
You do not enter.
Us the landscape circles hard abroad,
sunned, stone. Like calls, too low, to like.

One submachine-gun cleared the Durga Temple.

It is very dark here in this groping forth

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