Immigrant song
sun and din
of the afternoon
I come home singing
and it is our Italy
where always we pray
to be
Poems on the topic: song
Poems on the topic “song” on Poets.by.
Vagabond
myself negligent of myself
I stop working
I shall leave myself bare
but singing
at the first sight of supper
Alterity
I believe in the face
a miracle of change and inner child
like a grave that’s able to sing
under a hat and eyebrows
Proving the rule
too soon the feet find
one ugly song to sing
all hands in the world
grow dangerous with wear
this is not true
of the moon
Wisdom Teeth
That time I was marooned
by a toothache – weeping eyes
screwed shut, mouth agape –
I might’ve been taken for someone
in the throes of ecstasy, lying
on the couch with all
the windows open. The weather
was June, and wonderful.
All afternoon I clung to the thread
of the brown thrasher’s song.
Even in extremis it’s simple
to tell a thrasher from his cousin
the catbird: he repeats
almost every improvised line.
Paired phrases sometimes reach
into the low thousands
Blackbird
the carpenter sent me a blackbird
to whistle in the house
so pleasant to hear
nightingales sing out back
and I hear the poor thing shuffling
to riff on a life sentence
Marking time
a song is fatal
the note is as gone as ash after I play it
who having great need
to meet myself at the harp
take for granted that time
is knocking nails
Courtship
Wine and wormwood,
we two who
are ever wooing—
picture and price,
water and fire,
book and song,
heaven and bed.
Out in the sticks
so far from town
singing
till almost 12:00 at night
Old soldier
I miss the war.
All the officers and friends of my past
sang songs
and then went away.
And night came
to wash me clean.
Courtier
I read in shorthand
the long sentences
like a troll on board
the King’s boat,
making a pretty deal
of public sin—
fitting in.
I gain a home.
They have me sing.
Leaf-out
All the alders
in disorder
fitting themselves
with singing ears
that roar and clap.
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