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Battlefield
do not hug too hard in a tent
keep warm at night
we go to war
to lie with butchers
the green or blue
sound of the field
some deep wound
calling you down
Poems on the topic: tent
Poems on the topic “tent” on Poets.by.
Sleepless
we listen
to everything new
tent in the woods
Camp Jejune
In a tent I become
simple and quiet
with rice, unoriginal
and worn as a wit
seen twice.
Filigree
ice in the tent—
a lace where I lean
against the bed
Rimbaud, 1880
I have borrowed some quiet—
the first in my life—and am
resolved to go. I settle
my accounts with myself
and fear in hand,
furnish my mind with a tent.
(S)Weep Us
Nowhere to go but another hole,
another alley, another pole,
another spread, another pitch,
just more dirty sons a bitch
caught in a sweep to push us out
some show sympathy, some sow doubt.
Exterminate this Shantytown,
lives dismantled, tents torn down,
ground impounded, trash swept clean
it’s as if we’ve never been.
We’re so easy to revile,
the Jungle is our domicile.
No Favala, no Hooverville.
Home is where
the heart beats still.
White Slumber
Who has come to that farthest island
Beyond White Gull Bay?
There is a little tent among the birches
Since yesterday.
Those birches are the palest things
Even in the morning sun!
Among them the tent has suddenly blossomed,
As the white flower of a night-blooming cereus,
Silently, deep in some forest of sleep,
Might have done.
Who are they? What dreams must be theirs,
Who have found such a magical camp unawares?
The Loon's Cry
Outside the tent
Darkness and giant trees swaying in the wind.
The lake is moaning in its troubled sleep.
And far across the lazy lapping waves,
Above the crooning of the wind,
I hear a wild loon crying,
Like a weary soul alone on the dark water.
Inside the tent
Your gentle breathing,
Untroubled by crooning wind or wailing loon;
Your face is lighted by the embers of the fire.
Fainter and farther away echoes the loon's cry,
But now it is only the voice of Loneliness
Bidding me farewell,
As it passes away into the night.
You stir in your sleep softly
The Farewell
TO-NIGHT
For the last time,
I loose my hair to make a tent about you.
Come, lay your head on my knees.
Your eyes are the lights of a town.
And my body is a sheltering hill.
Now my hair is a cloud.
To hide you from the inquisitive stars.
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