Posts Tagged "poetry"

dying is fine)but Death

dying is fine)but Death ?o baby i wouldn’t like Death if Death were good:for when(instead of stopping to think)you begin to feel of it,dying ’s miraculous why?be cause dying is perfectly natural;perfectly putting it mildly lively(but Death is strictly scientific & artificial & evil & legal) we thank thee god almighty for dying (forgive us,o life!the sin of Death (e. e....

I Thought I’d Write My Own Obituary

I thought I’d write my own obituary. Instead, I wrote the poem for when I’m risen from the dead: Ignite the flares, connect the phones, wind all the clocks; the sun goes rusty like a medal in its box— collect it from the loft. Peg out the stars, replace the bulbs of Jupiter and Mars. A man like that takes something with him when he dies, but he has wept the coins that rested on his eyes, eased out the stopper from the...

Michaelmas: A Sonnet For St. Michael The Archangel

Michaelmas gales assail the waning year, And Michael’s scale is true, his blade is bright. He strips dead leaves; and leaves the living clear To flourish in the touch and reach of light. Archangel bring your balance, help me turn Upon this turning world with you and dance In the Great Dance. Draw near, help me discern, And trace the hidden grace in change and chance. Angel of fire, Love’s fierce radiance, Drive through the deep until...

Death At Hand

Consider this, my Soul, that thou hast none whom thou mayest call thine own. Vain are thy wanderings on the Earth. Two days or three, then ends this Earthly life; yet all men boast that they are masters here. Time’s master, Death, will come and overthrow such masterships. Thy best-beloved, for whom thou art so terribly concerned, will she go with thee? Nay; rather, lest some ill befall the home,  she will sprinkle with cow dung...

God The Artist

God, when you thought of a pine tree, How did you think of a star? How did you dream of the Milky Way To guide us from afar? How did you think of a clean brown pool Where flecks of shadows are? God, when you thought of a cobweb, How did you think of dew? How did you know a spider’s house Had shingles bright and new? How did you know the human folk Would love them like they do? God, when you patterned a bird song, Flung on a...