Explore Poems: Poetic Terms

But I love the I, steel I-beam
that my father sold. They poured the pig iron
into the mold, and it fed out slowly,
a bending jelly in the bath, and it hardened,
Bessemer, blister, crucible, alloy, and he
marketed it, and bought bourbon, and...

The downs are certainly lovely, although by mortal loveliness
did you mean they would disappear one day…

Because why not? Why not take the smashed pinecone 
of my life, render it in purple? Why not dream of…

Which way to the monster cage? I am in my god body now—

in my sandy foxhole
sat backwards in a chair…

It's a rush, a sploosh of sewage, twenty thousand cubic metres being pumped in, stirred and settled …

A teacher once said chaos touches everyone, so that became my refrain.
Did we want to lose all we had…

I
remember I exist
at the braiding of
             consciousand con
          sumer,Kanaka
        and culpable,
      desire anddesired…

The effect—for those three hundred years, while the cupid remained hidden—was a kind of silence.

Like…

The city lies back in its winding-sheet
While little digits drum a steady beat

On roofs and terraces, …

                                      PRIMEAt dawn, the shapes of cypresses in fog
Were fingers pointing up from graves, as if what's born…

In a world where each man must be of use
and each thing useful, the rebellious Jews
light not one light…

Oh didn’t it """   """    """
                   ""      ""
                   ""      ""
                   ""      ""
                                "    
      ""                       "
           ""
                     ""
                     ""            ""
      rain
              ""
                                ""
                      ""    ""   ""
Oh did
           """      """       n’t…

The zoo is tough terrain; hilly.
I wheel as fast as I can —
then Mum shouts ‘Keep up!’
I stop. ‘Hand me…

See’st thou yon gray gleaming hall,
Where the deep elm-shadows fall?
Voices that have left the earth
  …

e y ? h
e ? h e
h e y !

And when, in the city in which I love you,
even my most excellent song goes unanswered,
and I mount the…

late, in aqua and ermine, gardenias
scaling her left sleeve in a spasm of scent,
her gloves white, her…

                                              I

What shall I do with this absurdity —
O heart, O troubled heart — this caricature,
Decrepit age that...

I have heard that hysterical women say
They are sick of the palette and fiddle-bow,
Of poets that are always gay,
For everybody knows or else should know
That if nothing drastic is done
Aeroplane and Zeppelin will come out,
Pitch like King Billy bomb-balls in
Until...