Citatepedia^®.com

Daybreak

daybreak, still limbs lace
to gray sky, wait for the next
storm to shake open

morning, still sleeping
shuttered windows conceal the
cold face of daybreak.

poem by Steven Federle
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Daybreak in Alabama

When I get to be a composer
I'm gonna write me some music about
Daybreak in Alabama
And I'm gonna put the purtiest songs in it
Rising out of the ground like a swamp mist
And falling out of heaven like soft dew.
I'm gonna put some tall tall trees in it
And the scent of pine needles
And the smell of red clay after rain
And long red necks
And poppy colored faces
And big brown arms
And the field daisy eyes
Of black and white black white black people
And I'm gonna put white hands
And black hands and brown and yellow hands
And red clay earth hands in it
Touching everybody with kind fingers
And touching each other natural as dew
In that dawn of music when I

[...] Read more

poem by Langston Hughes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Novacaine

the taste of your fingers
digging in the dirt
the touch of your hair
falling down your shirt
the smell of your skin
blowing across the bed
the gasping of your breath
the silence never said
the silence never said

you are my chocolate
you are my Magdelene
you are my Everest
jumping on your trampoline
you are my daybreak
falling down like summer rain
you are my flash of life
you are my novacaine
you are my novacaine

[...] Read more

poem by Eric Cockrell
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Man Splitting Wood in the Daybreak

The man splitting wood in the daybreak
looks strong, as though, if one weakened,
one could turn to him and he would help.
Gus Newland was strong. When he split wood
he struck hard, flashing the bright steel
through the air so hard the hard maple
leapt apart, as it's feared marriages will do
in countries reluctant to permit divorce,
and even willow, which, though stacked
to dry a full year, on being split
actually weeps—totem wood, therefore,
to the married-until-death—sunders
with many little lip-wetting gasp-noises.
But Gus is dead. We could turn to our fathers,
but they help us only by the unperplexed
looking-back of the numerals cut into headstones.
Or to our mothers, whose love, so devastated,
can't, even in spring, break through the hard earth.
Our spouses weaken at the same rate we do.
We have to hold our children up to lean on them.

[...] Read more

poem by Galway Kinnell
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

He Will Always Be Loved By One Person

He will always be loved by one person despite what some of him might say
His mother will surely grieve for him the man they are hanging today
His mother for his life she pleaded and she must live with the heartache
That will live with her till the reaper claims her since her son is to die at daybreak,
Her son he is not a bad person he just made an awful mistake
He was carrying drugs for a drug dealer not for his own but for his brother's sake
His brother was in financial difficulties that story too long to tell here
His mistake for the love of his brother and for his mistake he will pay dear
For the hangman will hang him at daybreak the minutes on his life are ticking down
He will die in the gray of the dawning long miles away from his Hometown
Without a last hug from his mother and brother in such a way none deserves to die
The Government leaders who condemned him to his fate they surely are living a lie
When they proclaim themselves as good people despite the foul things they have done
By condemning a young man to the gallows and robbing a mum of her son.

poem by Francis Duggan
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Furies

Not a third that walks beside me,
But five or six or more.
Whether at dusk or daybreak
Or at blinding noon, a retinue
Of shadows that no door
Excludes.--One like a kind of scrawl,
Hands scrawled trembling and blue,
A harelipped and hunchbacked dwarf
With a smile like a grapefruit rind,
Who jabbers the way I do
When the brain is empty and tired
And the guests no longer care:
A clown, who shudders and suddenly
Is a man with a mouth of cotton
Trapped in a dentist's chair.

Not a third that walks beside me,
But five or six or more:
One with his face gone rotten,
Most hideous of all,

[...] Read more

poem by Weldon Kees
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Dazzling

Within the fortress of my dreams
I paint the moon and a star upon my forehead as
I watch Saturn appear from
Behind the late evening's mist-
Where I am alone but never lonely-
At dawn I can see the sun rise
From behind the evergreens that
So magically decorate hills of fortune-
The sky at daybreak is inviting while
The nighttime sky is mysterious-
The sky in the land of my fantasies is dazzling,
Where I am alone but never lonely,
Watching stars emerge from behind clouds of prosperity, and
Venus and mars are aligned with the full moon
Illuminating the darkness-
on this mystical night.
Inside the world of my imagination-
I paint the sky a deep shade of cerulean blue and
The moon and star upon my forehead-
Giving me the utmost peace of mind-

[...] Read more

poem by Claudia Krizay
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Advent

This Advent moon shines cold and clear,
These Advent nights are long;
Our lamps have burned year after year
And still their flame is strong.
'Watchman, what of the night?' we cry,
Heart-sick with hope deferred:
'No speaking signs are in the sky,'
Is still the watchman's word.

The Porter watches at the gate,
The servants watch within;
The watch is long betimes and late,
The prize is slow to win.
'Watchman, what of the night?' But still
His answer sounds the same:
'No daybreak tops the utmost hill,
Nor pale our lamps of flame.'

One to another hear them speak
The patient virgins wise:

[...] Read more

poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Minneapolis Poem

to John Logan

1
I wonder how many old men last winter
Hungry and frightened by namelessness prowled
The Mississippi shore
Lashed blind by the wind, dreaming
Of suicide in the river.
The police remove their cadavers by daybreak
And turn them in somewhere.
Where?
How does the city keep lists of its fathers
Who have no names?
By Nicollet Island I gaze down at the dark water
So beautifully slow.
And I wish my brothers good luck
And a warm grave.

[...] Read more

poem by James Arlington Wright
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Last Review

Turn the light down, nurse, and leave me, while I hold my last review,
For
the Bush
is slipping from me, and the town is going too:
Draw the blinds, the streets are lighted, and I hear the tramp of feet—
And I’m weary, very weary, of the
Faces in the Street
.

In the dens of Grind and Heartbreak, in the streets of Never-Rest,
I have lost the scent and colour and the music of the West:
And I would recall old faces with the memories they bring—
Where are Bill and Jim and Mary and the
Songs They used to Sing
?

They are coming! They are coming! they are passing through the room
With the smell of gum leaves burning, and the scent of
Wattle bloom!

[...] Read more

poem by Henry Lawson
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!