Howl poems from famous poets and best beautiful poems to feel good. Best howl poems ever written. Read all poems about howl.
To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour.
The sun descending in the west,
The evening star does shine;
The birds are silent in their nest,
Earth, Ocean, Air, belovèd brotherhood!
If our great Mother has imbued my soul
With aught of natural piety to feel
Your love, and recompense the boon with mine;
All day, day after day, they're bringing them home,
they're picking them up, those they can find, and bringing them home,
they're bringing them in, piled on the hulls of Grants, in
I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space,
Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth
When I die
I don't care what happens to my body
throw ashes in the air, scatter 'em in East River
bury an urn in Elizabeth New Jersey, B'nai Israel Cemetery
A bunch of the boys were whooping it up in the Malamute saloon;
The kid that handles the music-box was hitting a jag-time tune;
Back of the bar, in a solo game, sat Dangerous Dan McGrew,
And watching his luck was his light-o'-love, the lady that's known as Lou.
DEEP in the shady sadness of a vale
Far sunken from the healthy breath of morn,
Far from the fiery noon, and eve's one star,
ONCE more the storm is howling, and half hid
Under this cradle-hood and coverlid
My child sleeps on. There is no obstacle
But Gregory's wood and one bare hill
Whereby the haystack- and roof-levelling wind.
The shadowy Daughter of Urthona stood before red Orc,
When fourteen suns had faintly journey'd o'er his dark abode:
His food she brought in iron baskets, his drink in cups of iron:
The bows glided down, and the coast
Blackened with birds took a last look
At his thrashing hair and whale-blue eye;
The trodden town rang its cobbles for luck.
Right down the shocked street with a
That sends all else skittering to the
But in the Wine-presses the human grapes sing not nor dance:
They howl and writhe in shoals of torment, in fierce flames consuming,
In chains of iron and in dungeons circled with ceaseless fires,
In pits and dens and shades of death, in shapes of torment and woe:
I was a cottage maiden
Hardened by sun and air
Contented with my cottage mates,
Not mindful I was fair.
ST Agnes' Eve---Ah, bitter chill it was!
The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold;
The hare limp'd trembling through the frozen grass,
And silent was the flock in woolly fold:
I do not want to be reflective any more
Envying and despising unreflective things
Finding pathos in dogs and undeveloped handwriting
And young girls doing their hair and all the castles of sand
Pet gargoyles grunt and snore and cough,
But sadly you can't turn them off!
The belch and wheeze and sneeze and spit,
I cannot bear the thought of it!
Fit the First
'Just the place for a Snark!' the Bellman cried,
O France, although you sleep
We call you, we the forbidden!
The shadows have ears,
And the depths have cries.
Expect na, sir, in this narration,
A fleechin, fleth'rin Dedication,
To roose you up, an' ca' you guid,
An' sprung o' great an' noble bluid,
Had been the howl
Of a generation
Lost in drugs, spirits and alcoholic substances,
Allen Ginsberg, your howl
Do you know what?
When lost in a wood
And the wolves howl
It's time for a Bud
ONE BIG SOUL MADE ALL SOULS
Poem by Chan Mongol
Written in March 2005
Nymph, nymph, flash me your boobs!
Piss off pervert. Why do you stare at them?
Show them me.
Out of this roar of innumerable demons
hot cinema tarzan sweat
rolling moth ball eyes yellow teeth
cries of claws slashes clanks
Whose howl is it,
The howl of a soul,
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