The Animal State (Imagery, Allegory And Satire)

No earthquake, no thunder, no volcanic eruption Or even there was not any of other natural calamities, A sudden loud sound broke out all through the bush With whizzing, shuddering, cracking, tearing, echoing, Fear, horror, dark, terror, misery and ill spirits spread Committing destruction, death in a horrible situation, Dust, dirt, smoke coiled over the whole atmosphere The harmless animals are quite perplexed, helpless They began crying, shouting, running, rushing, fainting Seeing reddish spots and innumerable torn bodies.

A Child's Christmas In Wales

One Christmas was so much like another, in those years around the sea-town corner now and out of all sound except the distant speaking of the voices I sometimes hear a moment before sleep, that I can never remember whether it snowed for six days and six nights when I was twelve or whether it snowed for twelve days and twelve nights when I was six. All the Christmases roll down toward the two-tongued sea, like a cold and headlong moon bundling down the sky that was our street; and they stop at the rim of the ice-edged fish-freezing waves, and I plunge my hands in the snow and bring out whatever I can find. In goes my hand into that wool-white bell-tongued ball of holidays resting at the rim of the carol-singing sea, and out come Mrs. Prothero and the firemen.

Nature Trail

At the bottom of my garden There's a hedgehog and a frog And a lot of creepy-crawlies Living underneath a log, There's a baby daddy long legs And an easy-going snail And a family of woodlice, All are on my nature trail. There are caterpillars waiting

Neighbours

I am the type you are supposed to fear Black and foreign Big and dreadlocks An uneducated grass eater. I talk in tongues I chant at night I appear anywhere, I sleep with lions And when the moon gets me

Heritage

What is Africa to me: Copper sun or scarlet sea, Jungle star or jungle track, Strong bronzed men, or regal black Women from whose loins I sprang When the birds of Eden sang? One three centuries removed From the scenes his fathers loved, Spicy grove, cinnamon tree, What is Africa to me?

Childe Roland To The Dark Tower Came

I. My first thought was, he lied in every word, That hoary cripple, with malicious eye Askance to watch the working of his lie On mine, and mouth scarce able to afford Suppression of the glee, that pursed and scored Its edge, at one more victim gained thereby. II.

Cats

They are alike, prim scholar and perfervid lover: When comes the season of decay, they both decide Upon sweet, husky cats to be the household pride; Cats choose, like them, to sit, and like them, shudder. Like partisans of carnal dalliance and science, They search for silence and the shadowings of dread; Hell well might harness them as horses for the dead, If it could bend their native proudness in compliance.

Optimistic Man

as a child he never plucked the wings off flies he didn't tie tin cans to cats' tails or lock beetles in matchboxes or stomp anthills he grew up and all those things were done to him I was at his bedside when he died he said read me a poem about the sun and the sea about nuclear reactors and satellites

So Now?

the words have come and gone, I sit ill. the phone rings, the cats sleep. Linda vacuums. I am waiting to live, waiting to die. I wish I could ring in some bravery. it's a lousy fix but the tree outside doesn't know: I watch it moving with the wind

Gamblers All

sometimes you climb out of bed in the morning and you think, I'm not going to make it, but you laugh inside remembering all the times you've felt that way, and you walk to the bathroom, do your toilet, see that face in the mirror, oh my oh my oh my, but you comb your hair anyway, get into your street clothes, feed the cats, fetch the newspaper of horror, place it on the coffee table, kiss your wife goodbye, and then you are backing the car out into life itself, like millions of others you enter the arena once more.

The Graveyard By The Sea

This quiet roof, where dove-sails saunter by, Between the pines, the tombs, throbs visibly. Impartial noon patterns the sea in flame -- That sea forever starting and re-starting. When thought has had its hour, oh how rewarding Are the long vistas of celestial calm! What grace of light, what pure toil goes to form The manifold diamond of the elusive foam! What peace I feel begotten at that source! When sunlight rests upon a profound sea,

The Pied Piper Of Hamelin

I. Hamelin Town's in Brunswick, By famous Hanover city; The river Weser, deep and wide, Washes its wall on the southern side; A pleasanter spot you never spied; But, when begins my ditty, Almost five hundred years ago, To see the townsfolk suffer so

The House

They are building a house half a block down and I sit up here with the shades down listening to the sounds, the hammers pounding in nails, thack thack thack thack, and then I hear birds, and thack thack thack, and I go to bed,

Layover

Making love in the sun, in the morning sun in a hotel room above the alley where poor men poke for bottles; making love in the sun making love by a carpet redder than our blood, making love while the boys sell headlines and Cadillacs, making love by a photograph of Paris and an open pack of Chesterfields,

Christmas

Christmas is come and every hearth Makes room to give him welcome now E'en want will dry its tears in mirth And crown him wi' a holly bough Tho tramping 'neath a winters sky O'er snow track paths and rhymey stiles The huswife sets her spining bye And bids him welcome wi' her smiles Each house is swept the day before And windows stuck wi' evergreens

Rise, Lovers

Rise, lovers, that we may go towards heaven; we have seen this world, so let us go to that world. No, no, for thought these two gardens are beautiful and fair, let us pass beyond these two, and go to that Gardener. Let us go prostrating to the sea like a torrent, then let us go foaming upon the face of the sea. Let us journey from this street of mourning to the wedding feast, let us go from this saffron face to the face of the Judas tree blossom. Trembling like a leaf and twig from fear of falling, our hearts are throbbing; let us go to the Abode of Security.

A Step Away From Them

It's my lunch hour, so I go for a walk among the hum-colored cabs. First, down the sidewalk where laborers feed their dirty glistening torsos sandwiches and Coca-Cola, with yellow helmets on. They protect them from falling bricks, I guess. Then onto the avenue where skirts are flipping above heels and blow up over

Bus East

Society has good intentions Bureaucracy is like a friend 5 years ago - other furies other losses - America's trying to control the uncontrollable Forest fires, Vice The essential smile In the essential sleep Of the children Of the essential mind I'm all thru playing the American

For I Will Consider My Cat Jeoffry (Excerpt, Jubilate Agno)

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. For then he leaps up to catch the musk, which is the blessing of God upon his prayer. For he rolls upon prank to work it in. For having done duty and received blessing he begins to consider himself. For this he performs in ten degrees.

A Description Of A City Shower

Careful Observers may fortel the Hour (By sure Prognosticks) when to dread a Show'r: While Rain depends, the pensive Cat gives o'er Her Frolicks, and pursues her Tail no more. Returning Home at Night, you'll find the Sink Strike your offended Sense with double Stink. If you be wise, then go not far to Dine, You spend in Coach-hire more than save in Wine. A coming Show'r your shooting Corns presage, Old Aches throb, your hollow Tooth will rage.