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Bus Poems
Quote |
Poem |
Author |
---|---|---|
To You STRANGER! If you, passing, meet me, and desire to speak to me, why should you not speak to me And why should I not speak to you |
Walt Whitman |
|
Find a pleasure; meet and know it. /That sensation is the seed/ for your orchard of beauty,/ bliss and becoming. |
Hey, Fat Kid! |
Kimberly Dark |
The perfect poem is something/ crass and kissing, full of assumptions,/ is green and gamey, a field of chamomile/ or nettles, filigreed, and lit from within. |
Sheila Squillante |
|
I'm not flat and sly Like a spatula creeping up from below. At most I am a heavy and clumsy pestle Mashing good and bad together |
What Kind of Person |
Yehuda Amichai |
In the west the falling light still glows, and the clustered housetops glitter in the sun, but here Death is already chalking the doors with crosses, and calling the ravens, and the ravens are flying in. |
Why is This Age Worse… |
Anna Akmatova |
I was angry with my friend: I told my wrath, my wrath did end. I was angry with my foe: I told it not, my wrath did grow. |
A Poison Tree |
William Blake |
Will you walk a little faster said a whiting to a snail, There's a porpoise close behind us, and he's treading on my tail. See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance! They are waiting on the shingle, will you come and join the dance |
The Lobster Quadrille |
Lewis Carroll |
The south-winds are quick-witted, The schools are sad and slow, The masters quite omitted The lore we care to know. |
April |
Ralph Waldo Emerson |
Left hand, off land, I hear the lark ascend, His rash-fresh re-winded new-skeinèd score In crisps of curl off wild winch whirl, and pour And pelt music, till none's to spill nor spend. |
The Sea and the Skylark |
Gerard Manley Hopkins |
Awake! arise! the hour is late! Angels are knocking at thy door! They are in haste and cannot wait, And once departed come no more. |
A Fragment |
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow |
I'll tell you a plan for gaining wealth, Better than banking, trade or leases, Take a bank note and fold it up, And then you will find your money in creases! |
Epigram for Wall Street |
Edgar Allen Poe |
How many masks wear we, and undermasks, Upon our countenance of soul, and when, If for self-sport the soul itself unmasks, Knows it the last mask off and the face plain? |
Sonnet VIII |
Fernando Pessoa |
Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove |
Sonnet CXVI |
William Shakespeare |
Here pause: the poet claims at least this praise, That virtuous Liberty hath been the scope Of his pure song, which did not shrink from hope In the worst moment of these evil days; |
Here Pause: The poet claims at least this praise |
William Wordsworth |
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere The ceremony of innocence is drowned; The best lack all conviction, while the worst Are full of passionate intensity. |
The Second Coming |
William Butler Yeats |
When I ask you to remember, you show me finches in a field. You are filled with birds that startle, won’t allow me near. |
Memory Loss |
Sally Bliumis-Dunn |
The world has no memory;/ the forsythia, persistent, perennial,/ naïve, bursts again into spring time,/ asks us again to believe. |
The Cutters |
Van Hartmann |
I still don’t know my place. I cross against the red light, teach Whitman and Doty, and love the awkward ones who end up in my office, in black lipstick and studded leather, insisting on beauty. |
Fragment |
Laurel Peterson |
If my lover were a comet Hung in air, I would braid my leaping body In his hair. |
This Much and More |
Djuna Barnes |
Darkly I gaze into the days ahead, And see her might and granite wonders there, Beneath the touch of Time’s unerring hand, Like priceless treasures sinking in the sand. |
America |
Claude McKay |
The heart of a woman falls back with the night, And enters some alien cage in its plight, And tries to forget it has dreamed of the stars While it breaks, breaks, breaks on the sheltering bars. |
The Heart of a Woman |
Georgia Douglass Johnson |
Awake! for Morning in the Bowl of Night Has flung the Stone that puts the Stars to Flight": And Lo! the Hunter of the East has caught The Sultan's Turret in a Noose of Light. |
The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám |
Omar Khayyam |
It's not just me having difficulty breathing as I hike up this mountain in high altitude. A river I passed a mile back stopped running, slowed down and started to walk. |
Hiking |
Kevin Pilkington |
Sky dark as coffee. You dress by TV’s blue glow. Time to go, head for the bus stop wait as day breaks pink and full of promise. |
Another Rising |
Linda Simone |
The lights in my eyes wink at hers in the street Luminous her desire, my surrender unconditional We journey sitting still, rooted in place we fly Do I know anyone who’s been burned by too much love? |
Fragments: 6 |
Ralph Nazareth |
I am from long sidewalks and the rush of commuter trains, parks that roamed the rind of the Long Island Sound, and the flash of bicycle spokes in the sun. |
Backstory |
Susan Moorhead |
Black mellow dark beautiful majesty Black mellow dark beautiful majesty I stared it in the eye a wide and indivisible geography Since then I am a doubt planting questions |
The Black Bellybutton of a Bongo |
Marianela Medrano |
La majestad tersa oscura—negra—bella Le mire a los ojos—geografía extensa e indivisible— Desde entonces soy una duda clavando interrogantes |
El Ombligo Negro de un Bongó |
Marianela Medrano |
I'm nobody! Who are you I'm nobody! Who are you? Are you nobody, too? Then there's a pair of us - don't tell! They'd banish - you know! How dreary to be somebody! How public like a frog To tell one's name the livelong day To an admiring bog! |
Emily Dickinson |
|
'Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers today; And give us not to think so far away As the uncertain harvest; keep us here All simply in the springing of the year. |
A Prayer in Spring |
Robert Frost |
Fear is a dark horizon a stone wall against dreams a levee against change a chasm too wide. |
Fear |
Fay Stevenson-Smith |