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Burden
In the morning at my lute
the carrier will carry to the carrier
oranges and two barrels of sun
sake and sack, lamb and veal
a pocket to carry in his pocket
after supper at my flute
Gedichte zum Thema: burden
Gedichte zum Thema „burden“ auf Poets.by.
That I Know
Your breaths have gone heavy now
I lay there wondering
Why I can't understand
We have an age difference
That I know
You have gone through more
So much more
That I know
But you expect me to help
You forget I'm younger
I don't know heartbreak
All I know
Are the lies I tell myself
Just to get through the day
You make it seem
Like your problems are bigger
Why?
Why do I feel so numb and distant?
Why does no one notice or care?
Why? Am I a burden to you all.
Just don't turn to me when I'm the only one you have to call
The Armful
For every parcel I stoop down to seize,
I lose some other off my arms and knees,
And the whole pile is slipping, bottles, buns,
Extremes too hard to comprehend at once,
Yet nothing I should care to leave behind.
With all I have to hold with, hand and mind
And heart, if need be, I will do my best
To keep their building balanced at my breast.
I crouch down to prevent them as they fall;
Then sit down in the middle of them all.
I had to drop the armful in the road
And try to stack them in a better load.
Poor Kings
God's pity on poor kings,
They know no gentle rest;
The North and South cry out,
Cries come from East and West--
"Come, open this new Dock,
Building, Bazaar or Fair."
Lord, what a wretched life
Such men must bear.
They're followed, watched and spied,
No liberty they know;
Some eye will watch them still,
No matter where they go.
When in green lanes I muse,
Alone, and hear birds sing,
God's pity then, say I,
On some poor king.
Toil Created
Dutiful, underpaid bearer of burden
(Although as oxen your past roles were cast,
And dark the stage whereon your scene was set)
The wearing of the yoke of toil has been your alchemist.
Heights imperceptible, by sheer strength surmounted,
Dire circumstance and hind'ring bars overcome,
With sinew taut and stamina unyielding,
Complete, you stand a toil created man.
Imaginary People: Poet
You have escaped the comedy
Of swift, pretentious praise and blame,
And smashed a tavern where they sell
The harlots' wine that men call fame.
Heralds of reckless solitude
Have offered you another voice,
But men are still a tempting jest.
You roam and cannot make a choice.
When you have played distractedly
With a humility, you tire
And change the pastime to a pride.
These are but moods of one desire.
You throw an imitating gleam
Upon the dwarfs that line your road,
Then with a worn hostility
You tramp along beneath your load.
Davis Matlock
Suppose it is nothing but the hive:
That there are drones and workers
And queens, and nothing but storing honey—
(Material things as well as culture and wisdom)—
For the next generation, this generation never living,
Except as it swarms in the sun-light of youth,
Strengthening its wings on what has been gathered,
And tasting, on the way to the hive
From the clover field, the delicate spoil.
Suppose all this, and suppose the truth:
That the nature of man is greater
Than nature’s need in the hive;
And you must bear the burden of life,
As well as the urge from your spirit’s excess—
Well, I say to live it out like a god
Sure of immortal life, though you are in doubt,
When the Dark Comes
When the dark comes,
" Is this the end ? " I pray ;
No answer from the night,
And then once more the day.
I take the world again
Upon my neck and go
Pace with the serious hours.
Since fate will have it so,
Begone, dead man, unclasp
Your hands from round my heart,
I and my burden pass.
You and your peace depart.