Famous Short Son Poems. Short Son Poetry by Famous Poets. A collection of the all-time best Son short poems
See also: Short Member Poems
Too much gone wrong –
No Muse, no song.
The reeds give
way to the
wind and give
the wind away
No Prisoner be --
Where Liberty --
Himself -- abide with Thee --
Fame is a bee.
It has a song --
It has a sting --
Ah, too, it has a wing.
In the thicket's shade
a woman by herself
singing the rice-planting song.
Napping at midday
I hear the song of rice planters
and feel ashamed of myself.
There ain't NO-BO-DY
can dance like THAT, 'cept them twins
Jazzlene and Jazzphat.
Could not once blinding me, cruel, suffice?
When first I look'd on thee, I lost mine eyes.
What's in a name?
I guess I'll be locked into
As much as I'm locked out of!
A Sloop of Amber slips away
Upon an Ether Sea,
And wrecks in Peace a Purple Tar,
The Son of Ecstasy --
Did We abolish Frost
The Summer would not cease --
If Seasons perish or prevail
Is optional with Us --
My Season's furthest Flower --
I tenderer commend
Because I found Her Kinsmanless,
A Grace without a Friend.
Purple -- is fashionable twice --
This season of the year,
And when a soul perceives itself
To be an Emperor.
A thrush, because I'd been wrong,
Burst rightly into song
In a world not vague, not lonely,
Not governed by me only.
One lovely name adorns my song,
And, dwelling in the heart,
Forever falters at the tongue,
And trembles to depart.
Obtaining but our own Extent
In whatsoever Realm --
'Twas Christ's own personal Expanse
That bore him from the Tomb --
Where Roses would not dare to go,
What Heart would risk the way --
And so I send my Crimson Scouts
To sound the Enemy --
Your hopeless patients will live,
Your healthy patients will die.
I have only this word to give:
Wonder, and find out why
Although I work, and seldom cease,
At Dumas pere and Dumas fils,
Alas, I cannot make me care
For Dumas fils and Dumas pere.
I think that I shall never see
A billboard lovely as a tree
Indeed, unless the billboards fall
I'll never see a tree at all.
Man frames his judgment on reason; but woman on love founds her verdict;
If her judgment loves not, woman already has judged.
Facundis dedit ille notis, interprete plumas
Insinuare sonos oculis, & pingere voces,
Et mentem chartis, oculis impertiit aurem.
From pleasure of the bed,
Dull as a worm,
His rod and its butting head
Limp as a worm,
His spirit that has fled
Blind as a worm.
If thou feelest not the beautiful, still thou with reason canst will it;
And as a spirit canst do, that which as man thou canst not.
Long I fought the driving lists,
Plume a-stream and armor clanging;
Link on link, between my wrists,
Now my heavy freedom's hanging.