Once the World Was Perfect By Joy Harjo Once the world was perfect, and we were happy in that world. Then we took it for granted. Discontent began a small rumble in the earthly mind. Then Doubt pushed through with…
Category: Poem Analysis
On Aging
On Aging By Maya Angelou When you see me sitting quietly, Like a sack left on the shelf, Don’t think I need your chattering. I’m listening to myself. Hold! Stop! Don’t pity me! Hold! Stop your sympathy! Understanding if you…
Winter
Winter By Walter de la Mare And the robin flew Into the air, the air, The white mist through; And small and rare The night-frost fell Into the calm and misty dell. And the dusk gathered low, And the silver…
Old Photographs
Old Photographs By Gabeba Baderoon On my desk is a photograph of you taken by the woman who loved you then. In some photos her shadow falls in the foreground. In this one, her body is not that far from…
Autumn Song
Autumn Song By W. H. Auden Now the leaves are falling fast, Nurse’s flowers will not last, Nurses to their graves are gone, But the prams go rolling on. Whispering neighbours left and right Daunt us from our true delight,…
Possibilities
Possibilities By Wislawa Szymborska I prefer movies. I prefer cats. I prefer the oaks along the Warta. I prefer Dickens to Dostoyevsky. I prefer myself liking people to myself loving mankind. I prefer keeping a needle and thread on hand,…
Wodwo
Wodwo By Ted Hughes What am I? Nosing here, turning leaves over Following a faint stain on the air to the river’s edge I enter water. Who am I to split The glassy grain of water looking upward I see…
Clark Street Bridge
Clark Street Bridge By Carl Sandburg Dust of the feet And dust of the wheels, Wagons and people going, All day feet and wheels. Now. . . . . Only stars and mist A lonely policeman, Two cabaret dancers, Stars…
Burning the Old Year
Burning the Old Year By Naomi Shihab Nye Letters swallow themselves in seconds. Notes friends tied to the doorknob, transparent scarlet paper, sizzle like moth wings, marry the air. So much of any year is flammable, lists of vegetables, partial…
Van Gogh’s Bed
Van Gogh’s Bed By Jane Flanders is orange, like Cinderella’s coach, like the sun when he looked it straight in the eye. is narrow, he sleeps alone, tossing between two pillows, while it carried him bumpily to the ball. is…
The Villain
The Villain By William Henry Davies While joy gave clouds the light of stars, That beamed wher’er they looked; And calves and lambs had tottering knees, Excited, while they sucked; While every bird enjoyed his song, Without one thought of…
Absent From Thee
Absent From Thee By John Wilmot Absent from thee I languish still; Then ask me not when I return? The straying fool ‘twill plainly kill To wish all day, all night to mourn. Dear! from thine arms then let me…
Carpet-weavers, Morocco
Carpet-weavers, Morocco By Carol Rumens The children are at the loom of another world. Their braids are oiled and black, their dresses bright. Their assorted heights would make a melodious chime. They watch their flickering knots like television. As the…
The River God
The River God By Stevie Smith I may be smelly, and I may be old, Rough in my pebbles, reedy in my pools, But where my fish float by I bless their swimming And I like the people to bathe…
The Retreat
The Retreat By Henry Vaughan Happy those early days! when I Shined in my angel infancy. Before I understood this place Appointed for my second race, Or taught my soul to fancy aught But a white, celestial thought; When yet…
The Patriot
The Patriot By Robert Browning AN OLD STORY. I. It was roses, roses, all the way, With myrtle mixed in my path like mad: The house-roofs seemed to heave and sway, The church-spires flamed, such flags they had, A year…
A Blackbird Singing
A Blackbird Singing By R. S. Thomas It seems wrong that out of this bird, Black, bold, a suggestion of dark Places about it, there yet should come Such rich music, as though the notes’ Ore were changed to a…
The Next War
The Next War By Wilfred Owen War’s a joke for me and you, Wile we know such dreams are true. – Siegfried Sassoon Out there, we’ve walked quite friendly up to Death,- Sat down and eaten with him, cool and…
The Mesh
The Mesh By Kwesi Brew aka Osborne Henry We have come to the cross-roads And I must either leave or come with you. I lingered over the choice But in the darkness of my doubts You lifted the lamp of…
The Place’s Fault
The Place’s Fault By Phillip Hobsbawm Another afternoon, after a rotten day at school Hating this place, hating them, and feeling like a fool Sweat on my fingers, pages dirty with smears I stumbled up the street, still swallowing my…