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Replete
full of myself
is how we all are
how a boy that died
being dried in an oven
lies there entire in a box
how the king is quite out of ink
and weary of everything
how rain put me
into my good night
Poems on the topic: boy
Poems on the topic “boy” on Poets.by.
Daydreamer
as a boy
what my mind was
I did not sing
I would turn
the morning off
busy making tomorrow anew
from a sail
from the coast of a god
Shooter
a boy and a gun
his kept rose
the afternoon arithmetic
is subtraction and division
I pray to have
some pain begin with me
Father to the man
paper ready to be a little boat
regular and finely contrived
money dead as the house
I intend to dwell in
making bricks
and other poor music
and the books like citizens
old and upright
to a boy things appear greater
than to a man
now I account it good fortune
to follow a dog
November dusk
the light is going
a few idle boys burn a table
for the heat
Closet
I examine my head and find a closet:
a boy’s clothes,
mischief and a candle,
a great fear.
Homunculus
Within my mind
a mind I long to tame—
a left boy, a little Hercules,
the king of ham.
I find trouble
and learn nothing.
But I am a little
pleased at this nothing,
my no that is no.
Sandy Star and Willie Gee
Sandy Star and Willie Gee,
Count 'em two, you make 'em three:
Pluck the man and boy apart
And you'll see into my heart.
War
Long lanes of fire, dead cornstalks burning,
Run now — head downward — plunging and crying,
Hold hard the breath now,
Forward we run.
Out of Nebraska, on into Kansas, now the word runs,
Runs with the wind, runs with the news of war, crying and screaming.
Now the word runs.
Out on low ridges, black 'gainst the night sky;
Farmer boys running, factory boys running;
Boys from Ohio
And my Illinois.
Questions and answers, over the land,
Questions that hurt, answers that hurt,
Questions of courage
That cannot but hurt.
Deep in the cornfields the gods come to life,
A Boy
Out of the noise of tired people working,
Harried with thoughts of war and lists of dead,
His beauty met me like a fresh wind blowing,
Clean boyish beauty and high-held head.
Eyes that told secrets, lips that would not tell them,
Fearless and shy the young unwearied eyes--
Men die by millions now, because God blunders,
Yet to have made this boy he must be wise.
The Baker’s Boy
The baker’s boy delivers loaves
All up and down our street.
His car is white, his clothes are white,
White to his very feet.
I wonder if he stays that way.
I don’t see how he does all day.
I’d like to watch him going home
When all the loaves are out.
His clothes must look quite different then,
At least I have no doubt.
Nocturne
Indigo bulb of darkness
Punctured by needle lights
Through a fissure of brick canyon shutting out stars,
And a sliver of moon
Spigoting two high windows over the West river....
Boy, I met to-night,
Your eyes are two red-glowing arcs shifting with my vision....
They reflect as in a fading proof
The deadened eyes of a woman,
And your shed virginity,
Light as the withered pod of a sweet pea,
Moist and fragrant
Blows against my soul.
What are you to me, boy,
That I, who have passed so many lights,
Should carry your eyes
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