House of the Rising Sun
Morning is a clear house,
afternoon a wardrobe.
At supper, I looked over
what I took to be Susan,
but it proved to be me.
Poems on the topic: supper
Poems on the topic “supper” on Poets.by.
The Lasting Supper
A chapel for Chance,
with organ and singing
and a sermon like a supper by proxy,
persuading me while at supper
to supper after supper.
The Kiss
What is a kiss?
A pair of silk stockings.
A light blue supper.
A pleasant walk.
A fine pain.
The king’s coming.
A good foundation for Latin.
The absence of I.
Soul Food
I eat a dish of mackerel
and a cold heart.
My heart supped with us
and told us to take
three shares apiece,
which was very good.
Sick
This morning, a whore; this afternoon, music.
I was sick in the evening.
At night, while my lord was at supper, I went
to bed, to bed, to bed.
Household
Together in the round house
we were merry and good-natured;
alone, a melancholy violin
called me to supper.
Rite
We lie still, she on me—effigies
making a great whispering,
satisfied and soon hushed.
Vice-tested, we sup
in the master bed.
High
High, I desire
the writ of the Lord,
answer a judge
with three pints of wine
and take by mistake for supper
a hand with strawberry on it.
Preprandial
the table laid
for supper in the garden—
calling his name
Chef in love
His oven
is calling to him
like the clamor of things to a thief:
a well-done supper
in bed.
Hanging
Good Friday
at home with my wife,
a good ham to read to,
supper-to-be.
Invitation to the mouth
To dinner, my mouth,
to dinner I sell my mouth
(and a little supper),
to dinner, come,
live for the honor
of the open mouth!
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