Poem Hunter: Poems - Poets - Poetry

If I recall and read again
those days in love’s long-faded script,
would there be not a mark or trace
but Celia’s, imprinted on my breast?

The Celia whom I’ve always
feared might forget our love,
who took me down these hapless depths,
the only reason for this turn of fate.

Again would I neglect to read
the pages of our tenderness,
or call to mind the love she poured,
the bitter struggle I gave for it?

Our sweet days gone,
my love is all that’s left;
ever shall it dwell within
till I’m laid down in my grave.

Now as I lie in loneliness,
behold wherein I seek relief:
each bygone day I revisit, I find
joy in the likeness of your face.

This likeness painted with love
and longing has lodged within
my heart, sole token left with me
not even death can steal.


...

Quite unexpectedly, as Vasserot
The armless ambidextrian was lighting
A match between his great and second toe,
And Ralph the lion was engaged in biting
The neck of Madame Sossman while the drum
Pointed, and Teeny was about to cough
In waltz-time swinging Jocko by the thumb
Quite unexpectedly to top blew off:

And there, there overhead, there, there hung over

...

Closed were my eyes, in peace.
Cosmic bliss, bodhi unseen,
eons of penance in a fleeting tick.
I was the invincible atom.

Laughter, glee, and shadows of evil
fists, thrusts, and knuckles collide.
Victory cries echo before the rampage,
yet my battle was already won.


...

Men and boys, O fathers, brothers,
Burst these fetters round you bound.
Women, sisters, wives and mothers,
Lift your faces from the ground!
O Democracy, O People,
East and West and North and South,
Rise together, one for ever,
Strike this Crime upon the mouth!
Bid them not, the men who loved you,
Those who fought for you and died,
Scorn you that you broke a small Crime,
Left a great Crime pass in pride!
England, France, the played-out countries,
Let them reek there in their stew,
Let their past rot out their present,
But the Future is with you!
O America, O first-born
Of the age that yet shall be
Where all men shall be as one man,
Noble, faithful, fearless, free! —
O America, O paramour
Of the foul slave-owner Pelf,
You who saved from slavery others,
Now from slavery save yourself! —
Save yourself, though, anguish-shaken,
You cry out and bow your head,
Crying 'Why am I forsaken?'
Crying 'It is finishèd!'
Save yourself, no God will save you;
Not one angel can he give!

...

The old moon is tarnished
With smoke of the flood,
The dead leaves are varnished
With colour like blood.

A treacherous smiler
With teeth white as milk,
A savage beguiler
In sheathings of silk


...

They say a girl's place is behind the wall,
Where dreams are buried before they call.
They say my hands are made to clean,
Not to build the life I've seen.

They hush my words, they tame my flame,
But I was not born to live in shame.
I am more than the silence you demand,
I am the strength you can't command.


...

How wonderful, that
Her heart
Should show me kindness;
And of all the numberless folk,
Grief should not touch me.
...

Wild eyes—and faces ashen grey
That strain through lofty prison bars
To see the everlasting stars,
Then turn—to slumber as we may:

Even as we are, so are they,
And here is peace for all who know
The stars still follow where we go,
When heaven and earth have passed away.


...

I am fortunate.

Of all the faces I have seen,
The places I have been,
And blessings I have gathered on the way.

I stay fortunate.

The endless opportunities around,
The secret places only I have found,

...