Category

Aubade

Showing 1-20 of 20 results
  • Poem
    By William Butler Yeats
    I have heard that hysterical women say
    They are sick of the palette and fiddle-bow,
    Of poets that are always gay,
    For everybody knows or else should know
    That if nothing drastic is done
    Aeroplane and Zeppelin will come out,
    Pitch like King Billy bomb-balls in
    Until...
  • Poem
    By Joyce Mansour
    Translated By Emilie Moorhouse
    I want to sleep with you elbow to elbow
    Hair entwined
    Genitals enlaced
    With your mouth as a pillow.
    I want to sleep with you back to back
    Without breath to keep us apart
    Without words to distract us
    Without eyes to tell lies
    Without clothes.
    I want to...
  • Poem

    poetry-magazine

    Aubade Tanka

    By L. Lamar Wilson
    Buzzards figure-eight
    over browned pampas, stalk whiffs
    of beheaded cane’s
    corpses in spindly, bare limbs.
    Full, we spoon, milk noon’s languor.
  • Poem
    By Carrie Fountain
    Almost nothing has changed
    about the world. We're still bound
    to go on having this hunch

    everything has left us or is waiting
    for the worst possible moment to do so. 
    It's still our custom as a people

    to measure our lives by our longing,
    our longing...
  • Poem
    By torrin a. greathouse
    Sometimes I pronounce aubade: obeyed
    for the way this particular desire stumbles
    the tongue. Hunger’s vocabulary is a fickle

    thing. How many lovers have said that
    they adore me, but meant instead they saw
    in me a door? A thing to be entered. Language

    shifts an...
  • Poem
    By Philip Larkin
    I work all day, and get half-drunk at night.   
    Waking at four to soundless dark, I stare.   
    In time the curtain-edges will grow light.   
    Till then I see what’s really always there:   
    Unresting death, a whole day nearer now,   
    Making all thought impossible but how   
    And...
  • Poem

    poetry-magazine

    Anniversary

    By Marie Ponsot
    The big doll being broken and the sawdust fall
    all scattered by my shoes, not crying
    I sit in my dark to discover o failure annulled
    opens out in my hands a purse of golden
    salvaged sovereigns, from floors of seas culled.

    The dancing doll...
  • Poem
    By Oliver de la Paz
    The snow voids the distance of the road
    and the first breath comes from the early morning
    ghosts. The sparrows with their hard eyes
    glisten in the difficult light. They preen
    their feathers and chirp. It’s as though they were one
    voice talking to God.
                                       ...
  • Poem
    By David Mura
    A wound is a blossom
    but only to the living.
    A May night, birdsong

    before the first light pierces,
    chirps out of blackness:
    My daughter's angry at me

    and her mother as I
    was once angry at mine.
    It's a way of crossing over.

    I'm so tired now.
    And my...
  • Poem
    By Rick Barot
    Scintillas of the anatomical
    on the vines, buds opening—
    make me a figure
    for the woken.
     
    On the vines, buds opening—
    blue, little throats.
    For the woken,
    this different tin sky.
     
    Blue, little throats
    speak to me in the right voice.
    This different tin sky,
    the playground thawing.
     
    Speak to me in...
  • Poem
    By Ocean Vuong

                Milkflower petals on the street
                                                         like pieces of a girl’s dress.

    May your days be merry and bright...

    He fills a teacup with champagne, brings it to her lips.
                Open, he says.
                                            She opens.
                                                          Outside, a soldier spits out
                his cigarette...
  • Poem
    By Garrett Caples
    the desire to show is destruction
    in lessons forgot before learned
    no shrunken heads hang by wires
    no mourning songs of half-remembered
    shutters open the width of an eyelash
    it is enough for vision to run
    its finger along, for access to steal
    from forbidden shores the...
  • Poem
    By Amber Flora Thomas
    I know my leaving in the breakfast table mess.   
    Bowl spills into bowl: milk and bran, bread crust   
    crumbled. You push me back into bed.

    More “honey” and “baby.”
    Breath you tell my ear circles inside me,   
    curls a damp wind and runs the circuit   
    of...
  • Poem
    By Tom Sleigh
    Lathe of the ocean. Perpetual
    Motion machine of the waves. Everything still
    Being turned and shaped to a shape nobody
    Foresees: Ten years ago, was it, when we
     
    Walked that shore, too earnest and sheepish
    To hold hands? The wind cutting through our clothes
    Cleansed and...
  • Poem
    By John Donne
    ‘Tis true, ‘tis day, what though it be?
    O wilt thou therefore rise from me?
    Why should we rise because ‘tis light?
    Did we lie down because ‘twas night?
    Love, which in spite of darkness brought us hither,
    Should in...
  • Poem

    poetry-magazine

    Leave-Taking

    By Louise Bogan
    I do not know where either of us can turn
    Just at first, waking from the sleep of each other.
    I do not know how we can bear
    The river struck by the gold plummet of the moon,
    Or many...
  • Poem
    By Emmy Pérez
    Yellow pines    No ever    no green    except
    where stems brown needles green    I walk

    on the wooden train    The fall’s water you swam in
    one cold morning    What you braved    That ice

    path    A horse fence    Where fences are horses
    with long hair    I braid...
  • Poem
    By Robert Browning
    Round the cape of a sudden came the sea,
    And the sun looked over the mountain's rim:
    And straight was a path of gold for him,
    And the need of a world of men for me.
  • Poem

    poetry-magazine

    Under Two Windows

    By Schuyler Van Rensselaer
    I. AUBADE

    The dawn is here—and the long night through I have never seen thy face,
    Though my feet have worn the patient grass at the gate of thy dwelling-place.

    While the white moon sailed till, red in the west, it found the...
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