| Favourite Poems by Other Poets |
| Familiale by Jacques Prévert La mére fait du tricot Le fils fait la guerre Elle trouve ça tout naturel la mére Et le pere qu'est-ce qu'il fait la pére? Il fait des affaires Sa femme fait du tricot Son fils la guerre Lui des affaires Il trouve ça tout naturel la pére Et le fils et le fils Qu'est ce qu'il trouve le fils? Il ne trouve rien absolument rien le fils Le fils sa mere fait du tricot son pere des affaires lui la guerre Quand il aura fini la guerre Il fera des affaires avec son pére La guerre continue la mere continue elle tricote La pere continue il fait des affaires Le fils est tué il ne continue plus La pere et la mere vont au cimetiére Ils trouvent ça naturel le pére et la mére La vie continue la vie avec le tricot la guerre les affaires Les affaires la guerre le tricot la guerre Les affaires les affaires et les affaires La vie avec le cimetiére. |
| O You Whom I Often and Silently Come by Walt Whitman O you whom I often and silently come where you are that I may be with you, As I walk by your side or sit near, or remain in the same room with you, Little you know the subtle electric fire that for your sake is playing within me. |
| Stronger Lessons by Walt Whitman Have you learn'd lessons only of those who admired you, and were tender with you, and stood aside for you? Have you not learn'd great lessons from those who reject you, and brace themselves against you? or who treat you with contempt, or dispute the passage with you? |
| Earth Dweller by William Stafford It was all the clods at once become precious; it was the barn, and the shed, and the windmill, my hands, the crack Arlie made in the axehandle: oh, let me stay here humbly, forgotten, to rejoice in it all; let the sun casually rise and set. If I have not found the right place, teach me, for somewhere inside, the clods are vaulted mansions, lines through the barn sing for the saints forever, the shed and the windmill read so glorious the sun shudders like a gong. Now I know why people worship, carry around magic emblems, wake up talking dreams they teach to their children: the world speaks. The world speaks everything to us. It is our only friend. |
| Flight One by Gwendolyn MacEwen Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen This is your captain speaking. We are flying at an unknown altitude And an incalculable speed. The temperature outside is beyond words. If you look out your windows you will see Many ruined cities and enduring seas But if you wish to sleep please close the blinds. My navigator has been ill for many years And we are on automatic Pilot; regrettably I cannot foresee our ultimate destination. Have a pleasant trip. You may smoke, you may drink, you may dance. You may die. We might even land someday. |
| Swift Things are Beautiful by Elizabeth Coatsworth Swift things are beautiful: Swallows and deer, And lightening that falls Bright-veined and clear, Rivers and meteors, Wind in the wheat, The strong-withered horse, The runner's sure feet. And slow things are beautiful: The closing of day, The pause of the wave That curves downward to spray, The ember that crumbles, The opening flower, And the ox that moves on In the quiet of power. |
| Hug O' War by Shel Silverstein I will not play at tug o' war. I'd rather play at hug o' war, Where everyone hugs Instead of tugs, Where eeryone giggles And rolls on the rug, Where everyone kisses, And everyone grins And everyone cuddles, And everyone wins. |
| The Soul's Expression by Elizabeth Barrett Browning With stammering lips and insufficient sound I strive and struggle to deliver right That music of my nature, day and night With dream and thought and feeling interwound, And inly answering all the senses round With octaves of a mystic depth and height Which step out grandly to the infinite From the dark edges of the sensual ground. This song of soul I struggle to outbear Though portals of the sense, sublime and whole, And utter all myself into the air: But if I did it,-- as the thunder-roll Breaks its own cloud, my flesh would perish there, Before that dread apocalypse of soul. |
| Sonnet 14 by Elizabeth Barrett Browning If thou must love me, let it be for nought Except for love's sake only. Do not say, "I love her for her smile-- her look-- her way Of speaking gently,--for a trick of thought That falls in well with mine, and certes brought A sense of pleasant ease on such a day,"-- For these things in themselves, Beloved, may Be changed, or change for thee, -- and love so wrought May be unwrought so. Neither love me for Thine own dear pity's wiping my cheeks dry: A creature might forget to weep, who bore Thy comfort long, and lose they love thereby. But love me for love's sake, that evermore Thou mayst love on through love's eternity. |
| What do I care by Sara Teasdale What do I care, in the dreams and the languor of spring, That my songs do not show me at all? For they are a fragrance, and I am a flint and a fire, I am an answer, they are only a call. But what do I care, for love will be over so soon, Let my heart have its say and my mind stand idly by, For my mind is proud and strong enough to be silent, It is my heart that makes my songs, not I. |
| Somewhere I Have Never Travelled, Gladly Beyond by e.e. cummings somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond any experience, your eyes have their silence: in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me, or which i cannot touch because they are too near your slightest look easily will unclose me though i have closed myself as fingers, you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens (touching skilfully, mysteriously) her first rose or if your wish to be close me, i and my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly, as when the heart of this flower imagines the snow carefully everywhere descending; nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals the power of your intense fragility: whose texture compels me with the colour of its countries, rendering death and forever with each breathing (i do not know what it is about you that closes and opens; only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses) nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands |
| I Like My Body When It Is With Your by e.e. cummings i like my body when it is with your body. It is so quite new a thing. Muscles better and nerves more, i like your body. i like what it does, i like its hows. i like to feel the spine of your body and its bones, and the trembling -firm-smooth ness and which i will again and again and again kiss, i like kissing this and that of you, i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes over parting flesh....And eyes big love-crumbs, and possibly i like the thrill of under me you so quite new |
| Noah An original poem by H.W., a recovering heroin addict (05.26.97) The Lord looked down from His window in the sky: Said I created man now I don't remember why. Nothing but fighting since creation day: I am going to send a little water and wash them all away The Lord came down to look around a spell; And there was Mr. Noah behaving mighty well. That is why the Scriptures today record; Noah found grace in the eyes of the Lord. Lord told Noah to build a boat out of wood; Lord said Noah don't believe I could. Lord told Noah to give it a try; Build it 30 cubits wide and 40 cubits high. And get the animals two by two; Put them on the ark just like it was a zoo. Cause I am going to send down a lot of rain; I am going to wash away all of the hate and pain. Lord said Noah it's getting awful dark; Lord told Noah to get them creatures on the ark. Lord said Noah, it's beginning to pour Lord told Noah, hurry up and shut the door Well it rained for 40 nights and 40 days; Noah had plenty of time to pray They landed on Mt. Ararat; and If you don't believe me I can show you Where it is at: Genesis Ch. 8 v. 4. |
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| Anne P. Sharp Hermosa Beach & San Francisco CA, USA Telephone ( 310) 600-9247 ( 415) 546-7022 |
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