All poetry Collection

Exam Days

Ah! there exam days
when people near me,
they carefully hear me,
please me in many ways
Ah! there exam days.
My loneliness filled with girls and boys
my introvercy gone for joys,

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Winsome Insight

Oh so well!
Your heart desires of me
You painted me so well on a canvas
All those dripped paints on the floor
and those dried up paint-brushes,
whisper in my ears
How much I was present
Even when not present in real
Oh! The way it smells
It smells the same as I do
I appreciate the art
Not

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A Thing of Beauty (Endymion)

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its lovliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
Spite of despondence, of the

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I had a dream that I met Charles Bukowski

If I met Charley I probably would have smashed him in his over sized snozz
Like a scene ripped from the reels of Barfly yes indeed we would have bar fought
I would have clobbered that big smug ugly b*st*rd with my big chubby ham club
Solely in an effort to sober him up for a moment
Only because he

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Orpheus

? or John Fletcher.

ORPHEUS with his lute made trees
And the mountain tops that freeze
Bow themselves when he did sing:
To his music plants and flowers
Ever sprung; as sun and showers
There had made a lasting spring.

Every thing that heard him play,
Even the billows of the sea,
Hung their heads and then lay by.

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Sonnet 104: To me, fair friend, you never can be old

To me, fair friend, you never can be old,
For as you were when first your eye I ey’d,
Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold,
Have from the forests shook three summers’ pride,
Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turn’d,
In process of the seasons have I seen,
Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burn’d,
Since first

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California Prodigal

The eye follows, the land
Slips upward, creases down, forms
The gentle buttocks of a young
Giant. In the nestle,
Old adobe bricks, washed of
Whiteness, paled to umber,
Await another century.

Star Jasmine and old vines
Lay claim upon the ghosted land,
Then quiet pools whisper
Private childhood secrets.

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Aubade

HARK! hark! the lark at heaven’s gate sings,
And Phoebus ‘gins arise,
His steeds to water at those springs
On chaliced flowers that lies;
And winking Mary-buds begin
To ope their golden eyes:
With everything that pretty bin,
My lady sweet, arise!

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Streamside Exchange

CHILD – River bird, river bird,
Sitting all day long
On hook over grass,
River bird, river bird,
Sing to me a song
Of all the pass
And say,
Will mother come back today?

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The beggar to mab, the fairy queen

Please your Grace, from out your store
Give an alms to one that’s poor,
That your mickle may have more.
Black I’m grown for want of meat,
Give me then an ant to eat,
Or the cleft ear of a mouse
Over-sour’d in drink of souce;
Or, sweet lady, reach to me
The abdomen of a bee;
Or commend a

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The Legend of Liyongo

I

Oh my child, be silent, do not cry;
Listen to the tale of the King of Bauri,
Listen to the tale of the exiled King
Who was cheated of election as the Ruler.
He left his renown, he left
In all silence King Mringwari.
Cease your sobbing, child, don’t cry,
Listen to my tale which is true:

The mercenaries were given

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Hope

Dream’s friend
Illusion’s sister

Originally your shadow
Yet always in front of you

As formless as light
As restless as wind

Between you and her
She keeps her distance always

Like flying birds outside the window
Like floating clouds in the sky

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Eclogue Of The Shepherd And The Townie

SHEPHERD
Not the blue-fountained Florida hotel,
Bell-capped, bellevued, straight-jacketed and decked
With chromium palms and a fromage of moon,
Not goodnight chocolates, nor the soothing slide
Of huîtres and sentinel straight-up martinis,
Neither the yacht heraldic nor the stretch
Limos and pants, Swiss banks or Alpine stocks
Shall solace you, or quiet the long pain
Of cold ancestral disinheritance,
Severing

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The Broken Heart

He is stark mad, who ever says,
That he hath been in love an hour,
Yet not that love so soon decays,
But that it can ten in less space devour;
Who will believe me, if I swear
That I have had the plague a year ?
Who would not laugh at me, if I should say,
I saw a

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Night

Your hand is heavy, Night, upon my brow.
I bear no heart mercuric like the clouds,
to dare.
Exacerbation from your subtle plough.
Woman as a clam, on the sea’s cresent.
I saw your jealous eye quench the sea’s
Flouorescence, dance on the pulse incessant
Of the waves. And I stood, drained
Submitting like the sands, blood and brine
Coursing

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Flying

Something in altitude kindles power-thirst
Mere horse-height suffices the emir
Bestowing from rich folds of prodigious turban
Upon crawling peasants in the dust
Rare imperceptible nods enwrapped
In princely boredom.

I too have known
A parching of that primordial palate,
A quickening to manifest life
Of a long recessive appetite.
Though strapped and manacled
That day I commanded from the pinnacle<br

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Prayer Before Bathing

My six children’s
thirty-six grandchildren’s
one thousand two hundred and ninety-six great-grandchildren
thank you
whose skin is more extensive
than all the sheets of paper in the world,
whose body is broader
than all the tombs in this world put together,
and whose smooth flesh has these moles,
marked like ancient script on birds’ eggs.
Thank you for the warm

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Lullaby

Sleep, sleep, little one, close your eyes, sleep,
little one!
The night comes down, the hour has comes,
tomorrow it will be day.
Sleep, sleep, little one! On your closed eyes day
has fled
You are warm. You have drunk, sleep, sleep,
little one!
Sleep, tomorrow you will be big, you will be
strong.
Sleep, tomorrow you will take the

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Stricken Soul

Wounded sore the stricken soul
Lies bleeding and unbound
Tears of anguish flow
The broken heart of woe
Feels for all our grief

Broken heart and downcast eyes
Bound by many a chain
Heart weary, restless soul
Peace long sought
The calm of hills above

Shattered and bruised soul
Witching pleasures of vain world charm

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