Les plus lus ▸
Lunatic
common people have
their own lord the sun
high but quiet as a well
I would write a letter
to a better lower one
and venture to hire her
from month to month
Poèmes sur le thème : well
Poèmes sur le thème « well » sur Poets.by.
Quick study
fleet as decay
the arson’s child
where I am in all
knowledge and experience
like a well
Circumscribed
I have seen a ship in a well
and a compass in bed
what will become of all my promise
in a quiet life
Mute
morning put me into debt
I surrendered my answers
silent as money this heart
little bull in a well
Solipsist
my taste is for madness
like a verse I never understand enough
I expect to find each child
gone to be born
and I fall into neglect
ward of a poisoned well
all my prayers lying
in an indifferent box
Lit
Gin this morning,
ice in the afternoon heat.
And there I saw a well
and prepared to row.
Congregation
At church, a strange company,
a great store of gall,
an impertinent sling,
a child in a well.
Sacrifice
I dine on love
like a well I bury
my teeth in.
No ideas but in things
Up early
to the morning well.
I hate an abstract tract
made at night.
For Once, Then, Something
Others taunt me with having knelt at well-curbs
Always wrong to the light, so never seeing
Deeper down in the well than where the water
Gives me back in a shining surface picture
Me myself in the summer heaven godlike
Looking out of a wreath of fern and cloud puffs.
Once, when trying with chin against a well-curb,
I discerned, as I thought, beyond the picture,
Through the picture, a something white, uncertain,
Something more of the depths--and then I lost it.
Water came to rebuke the too clear water.
One drop fell from a fern, and lo, a ripple
Shook whatever it was lay there at bottom,
Blurred it, blotted it out. What was that whiteness?
Truth? A pebble of quartz? For once, then, something.
Minna XII
You are a well sprayed with cool rubies of sound
In which I bathe and rise with another skin
Like moon-stone passion slyly courting
The light breath of a tired dream.
I drop my heart into the depths
Of your disheveled serenity,
And stroll off empty.
When my heart has merged to your shades of pearl quietness
I return and once more drop within you.
The Well
The well is not used now,
Its waters are tainted.
I remember there was once a man went down
To clean it.
He found it very cold and deep,
With a queer niche in one of its sides,
From which he hauled forth buckets of bricks and dirt.