Poem Hunter: Poems - Poets - Poetry

Hedge, that divides the lovely
Garden, and myself from me,
Never in you so fair a rose I see
As she who is my lady,
Loving, sweet and holy:
Who as I stretch my hand to you
Presses it, so softly, too.
...

it lay in my palm soft and trembled
as a new bird and i thought about
authority and how it always insisted
on itself, how it was master
of the man, how it measured him, never
was ignored or denied, and how it promised
there would be sweetness if it was obeyed
just like the saints do, like the angels
and i opened the window and held out my
uncupped hand; i swear to god

...

Inside everyone, there are shadows,
And also some bright, shining light.
Our eyes show us what we see,
Based on the roads we've traveled.

Our experiences add color to life,
It's a journey that is old but new.
Inside us all, dark and bright things
Move together quietly.
...

In placid hours well-pleased we dream
Of many a brave unbodied scheme.
But form to lend, pulsed life create,
What unlike things must meet and mate:
A flame to melt- a wind to freeze;
Sad patience- joyous energies;
Humility- yet pride and scorn;
Instinct and study; love and hate;
Audacity- reverence. These must mate,
And fuse with Jacob's mystic heart,
To wrestle with the angel- Art.
...

In life
one is always
balancing

like we juggle our mothers
against our fathers

or one teacher
against another
(only to balance our grade average)

...

Across the pond, I saw a beautiful tree.
It stood out from an endless sea
It called to me, grinning and smiling
We laughed and danced, its bark shining
The leaves sparkled with happy dew
The wind in our sails harder blew

I was so glad I didn't even notice;
Stuck in my love filled hypnosis.
The steel that bound me: awestruck

...

By heaven and hell, and all the fools between them,
I will not die, nor sleep, nor wink my eyes,
But think myself into a god; old Death
Shall dream he has slain me, and I'll creep behind him,
Thrust off the bony tyrant from his throne
And beat him into dust. Or I will burst
Damnation's iron egg, my tomb, and come
Half damned, ere they make lightning of my soul,
And creep into thy carcase as thou sleepest
Between two crimson fevers. I'll dethrone
The empty skeleton, and be thy death,
A death of grinding madness. -- Fear me now;
I am a devil, not a human soul --
...

All actors look for them-the defining moments
When what a character does is what he is.
The script may say, He goes to the door
And exits or She goes out the door stage left.

But you see your fingers touching the doorknob,
Closing around it, turning it
As if by themselves. The latch slides
Out of the strike-plate, the door swings on its hinges,
And you're about to take that step

...

Under, howly, figure only,
Mist of bane and very true
Sizzle on the fury tonly
Thank my madness very rough;

Make my dancers slowly turning
Nick of time and sincerely
Raid the bounts and surely fining;
Inch, and don'ts would interfere


...