Poem Hunter: Poems - Poets - Poetry

I dreamt a dream! What can it mean?
And that I was a maiden Queen
Guarded by an Angel mild:
Witless woe was ne'er beguiled!

And I wept both night and day,
And he wiped my tears away;
And I wept both day and night,
And hid from him my heart's delight.

So he took his wings, and fled;
Then the morn blushed rosy red.
I dried my tears, and armed my fears
With ten-thousand shields and spears.

Soon my Angel came again;
I was armed, he came in vain;
For the time of youth was fled,
And grey hairs were on my head.
...

Maiden-poet, come with me
To the heaped up cairn of Maeve,
And there we'll dance a fairy dance
Upon a fairy's grave.

In and out among the trees,
Filling all the night with sound,
The morning, strung upon her star,
Shall chase us round and round.


...

Home, where smiles are always bright,
We yearn to live for its warm light.
But when walls become battlefields,
Home's foundation starts to yield.

No one wants to stay in a home so worn,
Yet home itself still longs to be reborn.
Questions abound, yet home remains silent,
Demands are made, but home's love is resilient.
Home needs nothing from you, yet it pursues,

...

How great my grief, my joys how few,
Since first it was my fate to know thee!
- Have the slow years not brought to view
How great my grief, my joys how few,
Nor memory shaped old times anew,
   Nor loving-kindness helped to show thee
How great my grief, my joys how few,
   Since first it was my fate to know thee?
...

I am offering this poem to you,
since I have nothing else to give.
Keep it like a warm coat,
when winter comes to cover you,
or like a pair of thick socks
the cold cannot bite through,

I love you,

I have nothing else to give you,

...

In the middle of spring, a caterpillar blooms in,
Everyone feels vulnerable to see her,
the ugly caterpillar found herself spiky.
Nobody finds her solace,
Her dreams drown out down,
Her mate's set to fly.
She end up with herself sad to not be glide.
She was exiled from the season,
Resurgence herself from the past,
Setup and overhaul to bring her thought,

...

I heard an angel speak last night,
And he said 'Write!
Write a Nation's curse for me,
And send it over the Western Sea.'

I faltered, taking up the word:
'Not so, my lord!
If curses must be, choose another
To send thy curse against my brother.

'For I am bound by gratitude,
By love and blood,
To brothers of mine across the sea,
Who stretch out kindly hands to me.'

'Therefore,' the voice said, 'shalt thou write
My curse to-night.
From the summits of love a curse is driven,
As lightning is from the tops of heaven.'

'Not so,' I answered. 'Evermore
My heart is sore
For my own land's sins: for little feet
Of children bleeding along the street:

'For parked-up honors that gainsay
The right of way:
For almsgiving through a door that is
Not open enough for two friends to kiss:


...

Body my house
my horse my hound
what will I do
when you are fallen

Where will I sleep
How will I ride
What will I hunt

Where can I go

...

The sun must be tired from yesterday's duty
To wake so late like a child looking dozy
But even the horizon looks weary
The Orient, so frowzy
And mother nature? looking retarded
Even before the day started
The trees are not dancing to the beat of the wind
Nor are the birds singing to heal the mind
The sky isn't blue today
Nor is there happiness on the bay

...