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Pretty
pretty is a lie
I love to translate
a ready key to forms
in one word
the best of all plaudits
at writing off
Gedichten over het onderwerp: key
Gedichten over het onderwerp “key” op Poets.by.
Helpless
early on
all the keys failed
but tell me that a lock lied
or to have some hope
and talk together an hour
like clerks on a Monday
Appearance
mind troubled
for my key that I lost—
the first pear
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.
Domestic arrangements
Took leave of all the keys
and the old told clock
there in the city of money
where I drank an hour,
where a black chair resolved
to satisfy the bed.
Magic Tricks
your gloved hands tugged at my waistband while
the magic hat swept me forwards,
and with that your trick began.
you placed me in a handmade box
of splinters and jagged nails;
trapped me inside with the click of a thousand locks
and finally disappeared.
but you're a master of deception,
an illusionist with no faults,
because just behind that curtain
you watched.
my hands bled.
my words blurred into a scream.
the crowd cheered
as you emerged with another copy of me.
and at the end of your waistcoat,
Automaton
I have clockwork in my bones.
Hear it tick, hear it tock;
Clamoring abusive tones.
Hear the click of the lock.
I feel the gears turn in my chest;
Burning out, scraping hard.
But never-ever do they rest;
Hear them shout, ever-marred.
Look behind my crystal eyes;
See it go, watch with pride
For there within the clockwork lies
To and fro, side-to-side.
And see my heart is open wide;
How it was like a wired trap.
Once within, you're stuck inside
As it does often tend to snap.
The ghost in my heart
You came barging in, even when I told you not to
I locked all the doors but you were already inside
Now you keep wandering about trapped in my heart
Trying to find your way out
I want to give you way but, it seems that I've forgotten where I'd kept the keys
I want to let you out
Not for you sake but mine
But I'll let you wander some more
And let you go when it's destined...
The Wall Cabinet
Above the steep back stairs
So high that only a ladder can come to it,
There is a wall cabinet hidden away.
No one ever unlocks it;
The key is lost, the door is barred,
It is shut and still.
Some say, a previous tenant
Filled its shelves with rows of bottles,
Bottles of spirit, filled with spiders.
I do not know.
Above the sleepy still back stairs,
It watches, shut and still.
The Pedlar
Lend me, a little while, the key
That locks your heavy heart, and I'll give you back —
Rarer than books and ribbons and beads bright to see,
This little Key of Dreams out of my pack.
The road, the road, beyond men's bolted doors,
There shall I walk and you go free of me,
For yours lies North across the moors,
And mine South. To what sea ?
How if we stopped and let our solemn selves go by,
While my gay ghost caught and kissed yours, as ghosts don't do,
And by the wayside this forgotten you and I
Sat, and were twenty-two ?
Give me the key that locks your tired eyes,
And I will lend you this one from my pack,
Brighter than coloured beads and painted books that make men wise
Take it. No, give it back !
One Room in My Heart
One room in my heart shall be closed, I said;
One chamber at least in my soul shall be secret and locked!
I shall hold it my holy of holies, and no one shall know it!
But you, calm woman predestined, with casual hands,
You came with this trivial key,
And ward by obdurate ward the surrendering lock fell back,
And disdainfully now you wander and brood and wait
In this room that I thought was my own!
Sonnets from a Lock Box I
How nonchalantly I spend with little thrift
His proud sparse earnings which were the frugal pay
Of a man’s stout will and honorable day.
What insolent spending of that sturdy gift!
When I reflect on him he seems like one
Who on a bleak hill set a lonely pine.
He saw the North Star in its branches shine.
His honest valors are by me undone.
Why I should own his box I cannot see.
For his scant legacy I am unfit.
Yet since he’s in the yard I have his key,
And somehow I am master over it.
I am like one who decks the Holy Tree
With tinsel shapes; then casts it in the pit.