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Aspirational
noon banished
to a lost town
every street ready
to be stairs
Poems on the topic: stair
Poems on the topic “stair” on Poets.by.
Proofreading
sitting on the cold stairs
I read over it again
with my left eye
Outcome
up the morning stairs
to war with my wife
the tang of peace
Book of Martyrs
A great evil I saw:
a book comes
to give stairs to people,
but they hold up their heads
to be kissed, not to kiss.
And so bonfires
desire the book
and read it with pleasure
to that long night, the city.
The art of parting
My friend and I,
we part, painters
painting stairs
to the night
all night.
Carnival
We sat drinking
of a great udder,
where we observed
the several
engines at work:
one round thing
going with a pair
of stairs round,
round as a reed
that cried to see
a mother where
we drank.
Sweet By-and-By
where some hope of getting money
where the stairs would not end
where we enter the hill
where my wife hunts for bread.
Bump in the night
fear is an ambassador
knocking on every stair
nightgown and slippers
go as a soldier of the wind
up against this ill
wool of a night
Tanka I
Could I but retrace
The winding stairs fate built me.
They fell from my feet.
Now I stand on the high round.
Down beneath height above depth--
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 Back Stairs
In the afternoon
When no one is in the house,
I suddenly hear dull dragging feet
Go fumbling down those dark back stairs,
That climb up twisting,
As if they wanted no one to see them.
Beating a dirge upon the bare planks
I hear those feet and the creak of a long-locked door.
My mother often went
Up and down those selfsame stairs,
From the room where by the window
She would sit all day and listlessly
Look on the world that had destroyed her,
She would go down in the evening
To the room where she would sleep,
Or rather, not sleep, but all night
Stairways
Why do I think of stairways
With a rush of hurt surprise?
Wistful as forgotten love
In remembered eyes;
And fitful as the flutter
Of little draughts of air
That linger on a stairway
As though they loved it there.
New and shining stairways,
Stairways worn and old,
Where rooms are prison places
And corridors are cold.
You intrigue with fancy.
You challenge with a lore
Elusive as a moon's light
Shadowing a floor.
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