“I enjoy writing poems” (Halina Poswiatowska Poems)
I enjoy writing poems. In a poem, like at a public rally, tempers boil, screams burst openthe form, and the ...
I enjoy writing poems. In a poem, like at a public rally, tempers boil, screams burst openthe form, and the ...
There are places in Wales I don't go:Reservoirs that are the subconciousOf a people, troubled far downWith gravestones, chapels, villages ...
I hail thee, Nessmuk, for the lofty tone Yet simple grace that marks thy poetry! True forester thou art, and still to ...
When my old heart was young, my dear, The Earth and Heaven were so near That in my dreams I oft could ...
Write it in gold - a Spirit of the sun,An Intellect ablaze with heavenly thoughts,A soul with all the dews ...
Fair girl, thy rosebud heart rests warm Within life's summer bowers! Nor blasts of winter's angry storm, Nor April's changeful showers, Its leaves have ...
Thou art the music that I hear in sleep, The poetry that lures me on in dreams; The magic, thou, that holds ...
Through tannic steam I catch a glimpse of Fuji:Against a yellow sky volcanic goldA saucer narrows nature very strangely,In shallow ...
I grieve to think that Waller's blam'd,Waller, so long, so justly, fam'd.Then own your Verses writ in Haste,Or I shall ...
Heaven and earth brought forth this rocky massits face cut by a deep crevassecrack's dark mouth shagged with mosspines rocking ...
Now winter nights enlargeThis number of their hours;And clouds their storms dischargeUpon the airy towers.Let now the chimneys blazeAnd cups ...
Lampwick turned up, the room glows white.The looms moves easily all night longas feet work and push below.Nimbly the shuttle ...
Occasioned by a Lady having presented a Gentleman, inreturn for a poem, with a golden violet. In imitation ofthe ancient ...
Bygones cannot be bygones.Only streets and squareshave forgotten the smell of fire.Only fieldshave forgotten the taste of blood.Iron forsaken still ...
In fancy, always, at thy desk, thrown wide, Thy most betreasured books ranged neighborly-- The rarest rhymes of every land and sea And ...
There's a wind blowing Cold through the corridors, A ghost-wind, The flapping of defeated wings, A hell-fantasy From meadows damned To eternal April And listening, listening To the ...
We only know that all in peace have rest, The Babe that died betwixt its sob and smile, The Knight whose fame ...
How's a man to write a sonnet, can you tell,-- How's he going to weave the dim, poetic spell,-- When a-toddling on ...
For ever hard to meet, and as hard to part.Each flower spoiled in the failing East wind.Spring's silkworms wind till ...
When I was lonely, I thought of death.When I thought of death I was lonely.I suppose this error will continue.I ...
ADDRESSED TO THE GENTLEMEN REFLECTED ON IN THE ROSCIAD,A POEM, BY THE AUTHOR Worried with debts and past all hopes of ...
Hanging around on the Bridge,Gleefully I watch all of you...Out there, some of you row backwardOr pick mussels off the ...
O THOU which to search out the secret parts Of the India, or rather Paradise Of knowledge, hast with courage and adviceLately ...
I praise you becauseyou are artist and scientistin one. When I am somewhatfearful of your power,your ability to work miracleswith ...
I praise you becauseyou are artist and scientistin one. When I am somewhatfearful of your power,your ability to work miracleswith ...
This is where the typhoon starts-inside the fourth paragraph,ten city blocks away,where the neurosurgeon halfsLa Celestina, where you occupythe spot ...
You didn't see how fine a snowSnowed from the apple tree.And I was sure my poems wouldGet through to you, ...
Don't Shame my word that tears itself to youas you tell us not to shame a poor man's handdon't humble ...
The minstrel harp of PoetryHas touched the sunbeam on the sea,And to the music of the spheresWe listen with enchanted ...
FEBRUARY 16, 1874THE painter's and the poet's fameShed their twinned lustre round his name,To gild our story-teller's art,Where each in ...
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