Tiger Poems

How neatly a cat sleeps,
sleeps with its paws and its posture,
sleeps with its wicked claws,
and with its unfeeling blood,
...

there is enough treachery, hatred violence absurdity in the average
human being to supply any given army on any given day

and the best at murder are those who preach against it
...

566

A Dying Tiger—moaned for Drink—
I hunted all the Sand—
...

Modern Verse For The Railway
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Vertically they have gone to see the horizon
...

Belinda lived in a little white house,
With a little black kitten and a little gray mouse,
And a little yellow dog and a little red wagon,
And a realio, trulio, little pet dragon.
...

Although she feeds me bread of bitterness,
And sinks into my throat her tiger's tooth,
Stealing my breath of life, I will confess
I love this cultured hell that tests my youth!
...

(Translated from the French by Edouard Rodti)

My wife with the hair of a wood fire
With the thoughts of heat lightning
...

Now the new chum loaded his three-nought-three,
It's a small-bore gun, but his hopes were big.
"I am fed to the teeth with old ewe," said he,
"And I might be able to shoot a pig."
...

BOOK I
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,
...

I prefer red chile over my eggs
and potatoes for breakfast.
Red chile ristras decorate my door,
dry on my roof, and hang from eaves.
...

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 have always aspired to a more spacious form
that would be free from the claims of poetry or prose
and would let us understand each other without exposing
the author or reader to sublime agonies.
...

Rintrah roars and shakes his
fires in the burdenM air,
Hungry clouds swag on the deep.
...

Fanaticism?No.Writing is exciting
and baseball is like writing.
You can never tell with either
how it will go
...

It's no go the merrygoround, it's no go the rickshaw,
All we want is a limousine and a ticket for the peepshow.
Their knickers are made of crepe-de-chine, their shoes are made of python,
Their halls are lined with tiger rugs and their walls with head of bison.
...

My well-beloved was stripped. Knowing my whim,
She wore her tinkling gems, but naught besides:
And showed such pride as, while her luck betides,
A sultan's favoured slave may show to him.
...

For I will consider my Cat Jeoffry.
For he is the servant of the Living God duly and daily serving him.
For at the first glance of the glory of God in the East he worships in his way.
For this is done by wreathing his body seven times round with elegant quickness.
...

Where's the Poet? show him! show him,
Muses nine! that I may know him.
'Tis the man who with a man
Is an equal, be he King,
...

Round about the couldron go:
In the poisones entrails throw.
Toad,that under cold stone
...

I am stuntman and a king,
Act as joker in circus ring,
All applaud work when wear wing,
Laugh them freely when I sing,
...

The Indian Princess walks her tiger
Around the opulent palace grounds
Her strong tiger always serving and obeying her
Every utterance and command she does vocalize
...

the eye of the tiger is,
the eye of a vengeance
the eye of the tiger is,
the eye of a clash tiger
...

PORTRAIT OF A PRINCE


Behold the tiger's face up close,
...

(Stage Opens) .

Leopard is Searching For Food.
...

Tiger King, Tiger King
Where are you now weird thing?

Your story is incredible
...

Not like cat
But like tiger.
And I do admit
Tiger is a large
...

A tiger
The name itself is ferocious
But imagine a tiger
Without teeth and
...

(Man Said to Himselves.)

What a Pleasant Sight it has been and my Desire is to Plant Trees and Make this a Beautiful Scene.
...

I want tiger
In you.
And I think
A fitness icon.
...

Grandfather hunted tigers.
Father sold tiger skins.

Before being sold,
Those tiger skins were hung before the house.
And as pregnant ewes crossed the courtyard one by one
Their lambs were lost.
Hung behind the house, those skins,
And the pears and peach trees withered one by one.

On the prairie of my dreams Father
Strode among the crowds
Clothed in a tiger skin.
As shouts of, "A tiger's coming" rang throughout
The stone walls of the village,
They cracked,
And rocks rolled like scrambling goats.
The last was Mother, chased by the tiger to wood's end;
There she died, yet was brought to life again.

Before being sold, the tiger skins
Were the skins of sky
The skins of earth
The skins of water
The skins of rock.
When turned into windows on the wall
Those tiger skins would reveal my person.
Should I be seen it would be seen with
Hunting gun on shoulder.

When deciding to make a sacred drum of tiger skin,
One fears only those beats that deliver
Withering plagues through the endless forest.
On making a harness of tiger skin for the ox
The one fear is no more land to plow.
When making a banner of tiger skin
The one fear is that of finding no one to raise it.

I have never seen a tiger skin, nor indeed a tiger.
"'A man leaves behind only his name at death;
A tiger leaves only its skin.'"
In this life of yours, why not be a tiger?"
And why were the children taught this way?
Whatever the reason, all those tiger skins
Were sold by my father.

On New Year's Eve pine needles covered the sitting room floor.
Not one of Grandfather's footprints could be found.
Did he die again in the sky? Let it be just a dream.

I carried my cold heart to lay it upon
the pine needles piled there in the sitting room.
I did not feel the needle pricks as their tattoos
Covered my body.
It was again the midnight of that day
The midnight of that day.
...