A Song for Muriel (Carolyn Kizer Poem)
No-one explains me because There is nothing to explain. It's all right here Very clear. O for my reputations sake ...
No-one explains me because There is nothing to explain. It's all right here Very clear. O for my reputations sake ...
We sat in the belly of the aeroplane and held out for sirens to swerve across the grass; men with ...
I caught rumours of some internal hearing then you appeared with tears squeezing your eyes, hands scrunched up like a ...
Spring Up, up you go, you must be introduced. You must learn belonging to (no-one) Drenched in the white veil ...
SOME wit, handsome form and gen'rous mind; A triple engine prove in love we find; By these the strongest fortresses ...
When Sam Small joined the regiment, 'E were no' but a raw recruit, And they marched 'im away one wint'ry ...
Should you be allowed sole privilege of unconscionable martyrdom? This affliction is self-pity brought by suffering as penitent to unrequited ...
You lift the lid in awe, a seat and lid upon an inside stall where you can go, quite unlike ...
It seldom snowed, they said, it might get cold but it won't be snow; well, one should guess the locals ...
Every time I laugh aloud, who springs to mind but Johnnie Howard? Cathartic laughter eases stress which Johnnie causes in ...
If you start out every day in the same old gloomy way it's little wonder what other people think of ...
There are many cumbersome ways to kill a man. You can make him carry a plank of wood to the ...
There are many cumbersome ways to kill a man. You can make him carry a plank of wood to the ...
Everything's looted, betrayed and traded, black death's wing's overhead. Everything's eaten by hunger, unsated, so why does a light shine ...
Not under foreign skies Nor under foreign wings protected - I shared all this with my own people There, where ...
I don't know if you're alive or dead. Can you on earth be sought, Or only when the sunsets fade ...
Give me life at its most garish Friday night in the Square, pink sequins dazzle And dance on clubbers bare ...
There was a hope for poetry in the sixties And for education and society, teachers free To do as they ...
I was a good father to my people, Their houses among the terraced hills Adored God every day, grape-clusters on ...
all the world's a stage shrinking & life remains a same rendition without rehearsal whose script is written by no-one ...
The bows glided down, and the coast Blackened with birds took a last look At his thrashing hair and whale-blue ...
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