Rider, rider hurrying
Ever since the world was born,
Halt a moment at my spring
With the sunset and the morn.
Loiter where my river flows
Sliding like a speckled snake,
And the wizard zephyr blows
Weird enchantments for your sake.
We present this work in honor of the poet’s 70th birthday.
i
used to be
a lot of things
now
I am
more.
We present this work in honor of the poet’s 285th birthday.
Daughter of Liberty! whose knife
So busy chops the threads of life,
And frees from cumbrous clay the spirit;
Ah! why alone shall Gallia feel
The beauties of thy pond’rous steel?
Why must not Britain mark thy merit?
Hark! ‘tis the dungeon’s groan I hear;
And lo, a squalid band appear,
With sallow cheek, and hollow eye!
Unwilling, lo, the neck they bend;
Yet, through thy pow’r, their terrors end,
And with their heads the sorrows fly.
O let us view thy lofty grace;
To Britons shew thy blushing face,
And bless Rebellion’s life—tir’d train!
Joy to my soul! she’s on her way,
Led by her dearest friends, Dismay,
Death, and the Devil, and Tom Paine!
In honor of V-E Day, we present this work by one of 20th century France’s most devout poets.
I am so little and grey,
dear God,
how can you keep me in mind?
Always spied upon,
always chased.
Nobody ever gives me anything,
and I nibble meagerly at life.
Why do they reproach me with being a mouse?
Who made me but You?
I can only ask to stay hidden.
Give me my hunger’s pittance
safe from the claws of that devil with green eyes.
Amen.
Pompey, often led, with me, by Brutus,
the head of our army, into great danger,
who’s sent you back, as a citizen,
to your country’s gods and Italy’s sky,
Pompey, the very dearest of my comrades,
with whom I’ve often drawn out the lingering
day in wine, my hair wreathed, and glistening
with perfumed balsam, of Syrian nard?
I was there at Philippi, with you, in that
headlong flight, sadly leaving my shield behind,
when shattered Virtue, and what threatened
from an ignoble purpose, fell to earth.
While in my fear Mercury dragged me, swiftly,
through the hostile ranks in a thickening cloud:
the wave was drawing you back to war,
carried once more by the troubled waters.
So grant Jupiter the feast he’s owed, and stretch
your limbs, wearied by long campaigning, under
my laurel boughs, and don’t spare the jars
that were destined to be opened by you.
Fill the smooth cups with Massic oblivion,
pour out the perfume from generous dishes,
Who’ll hurry to weave the wreathes for us
of dew-wet parsley or pliant myrtle?
Who’ll throw high Venus at dice and so become
the master of drink? I’ll rage as insanely
as any Thracian: It’s sweet to me
to revel when a friend is home again.
We present this work in honor of the poet’s 200th birthday.
Husband, today could you and I behold
The sun that brought us to our bridal morn
Rising so splendid in the winter sky
(We though fair spring returned), when we were wed;
Could the shades vanish from these fifteen years,
Which stand like columns guarding the approach
To that great temple of the double soul
That is as one – would you turn back, my dear,
And, for the sake of Love’s mysterious dream,
As old as Adam and as sweet as Eve,
Take me, as I took you, and once more go
Towards that goal which none of us have reached?
Contesting battles which but prove a loss,
The victor vanquished by the wounded one;
Teaching each other sacrifice of self,
True immolation to the marriage bond;
Learning the joys of birth, the woe of death,
Leaving in chaos all the hopes of life—
Heart-broken, yet with courage pressing on
For fame and fortune, artists needing both?
Or, would you rather – I will acquiesce—
Since we must choose what is, and are grown gray,
Stay in life’s desert, watch our setting sun,
Calm as those statues in Egyptian sands,
Hand clasping hand, with patience and with peace,
Wait for a future which contains no past?
In honor of Cinco de Mayo, we present this work by one of the city of Puebla’s finest poets.
In hot career or ranging far and wide,
gentle huntress, you speed your onward way,
abandoning upon the gusty air
the tossing feather of your gallant hat.
Over brake and barrier, without pause,
panting, your impetuous courser bounds,
and across the arid torrents storms,
beating the boulders with his thudding hooves.
And before you, chaser of the wild,
the peopled mountain yields, and in its glass
the tarn exhibits you victorious.
The mob breaks forth in turbulent applause,
and to the sudden clamour of your name
the mighty forest, sonorous, made reply.
We present this work in honor of the 40th anniversary of the poet’s death.
Whenever I am melancholy I go out to watch the sea
Heading home from a used bookstore I go out to watch the sea
Whenever you are sick in bed I go out to watch the sea
On mornings my soul is wearing thin I go out to watch the sea
Oh, the sea!
Large shoulders and broad chest!
However cruel the morning, however brutal the night
It will come to an end
All life will someday end
Only the sea will remain
Whenever I am melancholy I go out to watch the sea
On the loneliest of nights I go out to watch the sea
We present this work in honor of the 35th anniversary of the poet’s death.
Had thought of going somewhere
But I didn’t.
The closed windows suddenly shake
In an abrupt wind.
Let them shake, at least I am at home
Sifting through thoughts for signs of rot.
When it gets to be too much
I swat at flies.
One thing I know,
One wants no more. if one shuts their eyes,
I have learnt to follow the sun
And grow in that direction,
Reaching for any dreams within hooking distance,
Or let them go, blaming their substance.
Who cares what I do, so long as I feed my soul?
For what was never to be, I no longer cry!
Come, let’s talk of what ifs and how I wonder why.
We present this work in honor of the 20th anniversary of the poet’s death.
go on into the flames
with a clamor of insects
an indiscernible dust
a shape through blazing
with an enigma that makes you
gesture beneath the barren voice
and going on catch fire
immobile on a ridge
take your place for the vigil
and leave at night in a flood
or in blood like an outcry
beyond the reach of words
Poets Corner 