3060 Chapters
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Medium 9781574415643

Strip Mall

Stefanie Wortman University of Northern Texas PDF
Medium 9780253022790

Raggedy Man, The

James Whitcomb Riley Indiana University Press ePub

O THE RAGGEDY MAN! He works fer Pa;

An’ he’s the goodest man ever you saw!

He comes to our house every day,

An’ waters the horses, an’ feeds ’em hay;

An’ he opens the shed—an’ we all ist laugh

When he drives out our little old wobble-ly calf;

An’ nen—ef our hired girl says he can—

He milks the cow fer ’Lizabuth Ann.—

Aint he a’ awful good Raggedy Man?

Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man!

W’y, The Raggedy Man—he’s ist so good

He splits the kindlin’ an’ chops the wood;

An’ nen he spades in our garden, too,

An’ does most things ’at boys can’t do!—

He clumbed clean up in our big tree

An’ shooked a’ apple down fer me—

An’ nother’n’, too, fer ’Lizabuth Ann—

An’ nother’n’, too, fer The Raggedy Man.—

Aint he a’ awful kind Raggedy Man?

Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man!

An’ The Raggedy Man, he knows most rhymes

An’ tells ’em, ef I be good, sometimes:

Knows ’bout Giunts, an’ Griffuns, an’ Elves,

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Medium 9781847779731


Rossetti, Christina Carcanet Press Ltd. ePub

New Year met me somewhat sad:

     Old year leaves me tired,

Stripped of favourite things I had,

     Baulked of much desired:

Yet farther on my road to-day,

God willing, farther on my way.

New Year coming on apace,

     What have you to give me?

Bring you scathe or bring you grace,

Face me with an honest face:

     You shall not deceive me:

Be it good or ill, be it what you will,

It needs shall help me on my road,

My rugged way to heaven, please God.

Watch with me, men, women, and children dear,

You whom I love, for whom I hope and fear,

Watch with me this last vigil of the year.

Some hug their business, some their pleasure scheme;

Some seize the vacant hour to sleep or dream;

Heart locked in heart some kneel and watch apart.

Watch with me, blessed spirits, who delight

All through the holy night to walk in white,

Or take your ease after the long-drawn fight.

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Medium 9781847770684

Inheritance, 1998 (UD, uncatalogued)

Elizabeth Jennings Carcanet Press Ltd. PDF


They talk of genes and then they start to blame

Their parents for some quality which they

Inherit. It’s from these they always claim

That they possess a weakness, seldom say

Some good they well might name.

I have no patience with this kind of thing.

I’m sure I’ve never heard somebody say

‘I am creative,’ ‘I can write or sing.’

‘I know I’ve been most lucky in this way.’

I’d sometimes like to ring

A celebratory bell and tell my friends

I owe my Mother my imagination

But not, alas, her dexterous pair of hands.

My Father gave me intellectual passion

But not a scientific mind which lends

Itself to all creation.

How swift they both were in their different ways,

They come to life now as I think of them.

Upon my poetry their spirit plays

And they are present in each sound and theme,

A debt one seldom pays.

But there’s much more to this whole matter. It

Was learnt by me in how their love was lit.


Dawn comes up

Slowly, softly

In silence of power

In colour, of new

Shades for a rainbow

No sound, no sound

Not yet the birds

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Medium 9781847770684

The Assumption of Our Lady 15th August

Elizabeth Jennings Carcanet Press Ltd. PDF

The death-camps, torture, hurting thoughts, and all

That claims the flesh and soul of man throughout

History since our chosen lot, the Fall.

Thus God as Man experienced every doubt

And so he had to call

For mercy, yes, God when man could sweat

For all the shame of Peter’s cowardice

Though he’d foreknown it. Christ felt every great

And small sin, yet his dying meant success

Though it looked like defeat.

The Assumption of Our Lady 15th August

‘Assumed.’ What does it mean? Say ‘Take for granted’

That is it’s workaday, mere connotation.

But take ‘Assumption’. It is now enchanted,

Pulsing with life, untainted.

August the 15th will arrive tomorrow

And we shall celebrate the death of one

Who chose to take on every human sorrow.

When she became the mother of God’s son.

Mary had to borrow

A stable and a manger where her child

Might sleep and drink her milk. How much did she

Understand? Since she was undefiled,

God’s birth came easily.

Yes but from that day on much mystery,

She lost her son when he must go about

His business. But she stood beneath that tree

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Medium 9780253009517

When Early March Seems Middle May

James Whitcomb Riley Indiana University Press ePub







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Medium 9781906188139

The Goldbeater’s Arm

Grovier, Kelly Carcanet Press Ltd. PDF
Medium 9781847770684


Elizabeth Jennings Carcanet Press Ltd. PDF


In memory of A. T.-A.

We went for lunch at a hotel kept by a friend

Of this friend who took me to Anzio. The day

Was cool and easy. The sky

Pale with a Roman blue, a Spring blue still.

After lunch we sat with coffee and strega

(Sticky and sweet but it tastes of Rome to me)

And looked at the idle fishing boats at anchor.

The barely visible lap of the sea, the beach

Deserted. We fell into a reverie

Each allowed the other and after an hour –

Anzio still in siesta sleep about us –

You suddenly said you wanted to see the graves

Of the Protestant soldiers killed in the Second World War.

Then I remembered you’d fought in the First World War,

First in the trenches, then in a fragile plane.

You clearly needed to go

Partly to pay your homage, partly to leave

The beach once invaded by British soldiers, their blood

In your imagination all about you.

So we took a carozza in sweet slow afternoon

And dawdled among the graves. That invasion, those deaths

Meant nothing to me. My war had been hunger simply

Felt in a very ‘safe area’, but through

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Medium 9781906188139

A Nose for Science

Grovier, Kelly Carcanet Press Ltd. PDF
Medium 9780856832468


Kenneth Verity Shepheard-Walwyn ePub

THE POETRY of any civilization inevitably employs the chief and obvious characteristics of the language from which it has arisen and reflects the discernments, faiths, and arts of the civilization it serves. In any culture we are likely to find:

Rather than an introductory essay at this point, drawing out distinctive features of language, sociology, and psychology in the Orient, examples of poetry will show that past and present people in the East have more in common with us than difference. The universality of mankind is revealed as cogently in poetry as in any other art form.

The art and poetry of India stem from a majestic civilization extending with but few intervals from 3000 BC to the present day. Much Indian poetry reflects the fundamental harmony that exists between human beings and nature, a resonance which people everywhere are now seeking to re-establish with a new sense of spiritual urgency.

The oldest evidence of Indian literature is an extensive Vedic text anthology – one of four – called the Rigveda (‘the knowledge [veda] laid down in verse [rig]’). The work is thought to have been compiled some time between 1200 BC and 800 BC. It contains some 1,028 hymns (a total of 10,580 verses) which are arranged in ten ‘song cycles’ (mandalas). Most of the hymns are addressed to personifications of natural forces, glorified as divinities, for example, Agni (Fire). The overall conception is magnificent; the Universe produces itself by itself and the divine is in all. Here, as an example, is The Hymn of Creation based on a prose rendering from the ancient Sanskrit by V. Raghavan:

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Medium 9781847770684

Reading Poetry at a School, 9 July 1992 (GU, uncatalogued)

Elizabeth Jennings Carcanet Press Ltd. PDF

Deeper than any ocean. So now I sit

Almost ready to sleep. I am at ease,

My room crowds round me and I’m the owner of it

And I see the new moon as a sign of peace,

Each star an ardent promise. I can’t believe

In lack of meaning. In my mind I hold

Lines of verse, chords of melodious life.

Surely I cannot be too richly bold.

Yes, I’m a fleck of dust, a word, a mood,

A thought in somebody else’s generous mind

As they are in mine. There is so large a good

Even within this life of loss. I can find

Wonders everywhere and I am renewed

By a plan of love, a purpose that is not blind.

Reading Poetry at a School

There you are, my past or some of it

Seven girls between nineteen and thirteen years.

In concentration every face is set

And they seem calm, but surely they

Know or will know youth’s painfulness and tears

A July sun is shining on the day.

I too feel nervous as I read my poems

To these young ones therefore am exposed.

I wonder if some come from broken homes.

What lies behind clear looks, tanned skin?

Part of their life is gradually expressed

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Medium 9781885635273


Jack Christian Center for Literary Publishing ePub

Although there aren’t rules you are against them.
You bring curfew and we break it. You bring contraband
and strange light marks the sky, again.
Once, we were locked in the stem of a flower
that bloomed only at night. I was an owl who swooped low
before the car. You were the song you hummed.
We dressed in tassels and in leather. You made a map
from a barbed wire. You put on a shoe over a shoe over a shoe
and then you were a river, and then you were a bend.

at the end we would begin again
because there are instances wherein a notch

is a wide-mile and a best-self

and could run-on-over or be folded in a backseat

then covered in tied flies

and later be a bowl but be for you

who resemble a spot of sun and also a motion

whose motion is over-there

like to the victor go the things we jinx by talking about

and then they happen anyway

out where we pushed all the weeds down
and where the weather approaches aesthetic necessity

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Medium 9781847770974

32 the Picton Ferry

Gallas, John Carcanet Press Ltd. PDF
Medium 9781847772268

The Sublime Meets Prairie Town

Ward, David C. Carcanet Press Ltd. PDF
Medium 9781885635150

Of the Emperor’s

Zach Savich Center for Literary Publishing ePub

for David Bartone

A ladder built into the exterior of a truck,
all anything does is confide, every morning

beginning now, decency its own kind
of constitution, each step onto a balcony or

from a café with little outdoor seating,
not counting the city. “What year

is that from,” the mother says. “First century
AD,” says her son. “But that’s a hundred


for Jeff Downey

We proceed by pattern and anomaly, had
no money but lived above a bakery

and a florist, just-aged flowers free
in a trough. I liked how you called the street

I always take “the secret way,” two fingers
held to a passing dog.

for Hilary Plum

We go to the cinema merely
for the light, view of alleys

from a balcony, to be in
the world and it is mythic:

zinnia market in the churchyard,
onions in mesh, daylit moon

a watermark on foreign currency.


I sang: Tell me of the heart which exists
in which to continue is not
to confine


Then dreamed I sang so loudly, I woke
myself singing

The cygnets’ feet were lost in snow

The cygnets were lovely because footless

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