Collection of 7 short poems

                                    7 Short Poems-


I Didn’t Go To Church Today”-

                                   by Ogden Nash

I didn’t go to church today,

I trust the Lord to understand.

The surf was swirling blue and white,

The children swirling on the sand.

He knows, He knows how brief my stay,

How brief this spell of summer weather,

He knows when I am said and done

We’ll have plenty of time together


 

Dust of Snow

                – by Robert Frost

 

The way a crow

Shook down on me

The dust of snow

From a hemlock tree

 

Has given my heart

A change of mood

And saved some part

Of a day I had rued.

 

“When You Come”-

                        by Maya Angelou

When you come to me, unbidden,

Beckoning me

To long-ago rooms,

Where memories lie.

 

Offering me, as to a child, an attic,

Gatherings of days too few.

Baubles of stolen kisses.

Trinkets of borrowed loves.

Trunks of secret words,


I CRY.

Hope is the Thing with Feathers

                                                – Emily Dickinson,

“Hope” is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul

And sings the tune without the words

And never stops at all,

 

And sweetest in the gale is heard;

And sore must be the storm

That could abash the little bird

That kept so many warm.

 

I’ve heard it in the chillest land

And on the strangest sea,

Yet never, in extremity,

It asked a crumb of me.

 

 “It’s All I Have To Bring Today”

                                -by Emily Dickinson

It’s all I have to bring today—

This, and my heart beside—

This, and my heart, and all the fields—

And all the meadows wide—

Be sure you count—should I forget

Some one the sum could tell—

This, and my heart, and all the Bees

Which in the Clover dwell.

 

Coal

        -BY AUDRE LORDE

 

I

Is the total black, being spoken

From the earth’s inside.

There are many kinds of open.

How a diamond comes into a knot of flame  

How a sound comes into a word, coloured  

By who pays what for speaking.

 

Some words are open

Like a diamond on glass windows

Singing out within the crash of passing sun

Then there are words like stapled wagers

In a perforated book—buy and sign and tear apart—

And come whatever wills all chances

The stub remains

An ill-pulled tooth with a ragged edge.

Some words live in my throat

Breeding like adders. Others know sun

Seeking like gypsies over my tongue

To explode through my lips

Like young sparrows bursting from shell.

Some words

Bedevil me.

 

Love is a word another kind of open—

As a diamond comes into a knot of flame

I am black because I come from the earth’s inside  

Take my word for jewel in your open light.


The Eagle

               -BY ALFRED LORD TENNYSON

 

He clasps the crag with crooked hands;

Close to the sun in lonely lands,

Ring’d with the azure world, he stands.


The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;

He watches from his mountain walls,

And like a thunderbolt he falls.

 

 

 

 

 

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