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Mean drunk
sometimes pleased sometimes eased
evening comes by accident
let Scotch haunt
and scour our house
I fell and made my disturbance
beat her down in the cellar
Poems on the topic: cellar
Poems on the topic “cellar” on Poets.by.
Land escape
going into the country
we land in a maze
the good life is admirable
but for the old and ill
even the half-moon
cannot fit in
grown every day
below in the cellar
Diplomacy
who as ambassadors
will not have a treaty with time
be it one day only
in a closet of pleasant talk
the wine cellar
where we do business
the pit where we kiss
like people of ice
Converted window
I make a window into my cellar.
My cellar is full, a land where I have
a French cook and a horse—
black, but a perfect courtier.
My daughter would rather marry a crow.
Accounting
the treasurer’s accounts—
hogs make a cellar
out of the yard
Present
Are we present? I give
my wife this morning
mourning things
in the cellar
of the cellar
of today.
Leaving the cellar
we make the cellar a private place
dig the cellar again
dig the cellar from one side to the other
and go upstairs to grow old
I wish for night
instead of all the good things
which own our home
Light entertainment
light is an old acquaintance
come with a pick-axe into the cellar
a mad night-gown of silk
I wear it as an experiment
in walking upright
a private game
let it fall where it will
more real than any answer
that nothing on the stage
Sanctum
I fear the open street.
There is above my office door
a calf’s head
and we put up in the cellar
a silk flag I found in the dirt,
a key I found in the fire.
Widower
down into the cellar
with a cane—I talk
to her things
3 Poems 3
i feel my body covered with dust
you celler my odor of wetness
dragging down wooden steps
my dirty windows
i hear my tomorrow
coming back
to look on
while i stand
to go underground
myself
a hidden floor to lie on
The Cellar
Faintly lit by a high-barred grating,
The low-hung cellar,
Flattens itself under the house.
In one corner
There is a little door,
So low, it can scarcely be seen.
Beyond,
There is a narrow room,
One must feel for the walls in the dark.
One shrinks to go
To the end of it,
Feeling the smooth cold wall.
Why did the builders who made this house,
Stow one room away like this?
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