Famous Morgue Poems by Famous Poets

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So as I am a swimmer stout
I plunged and pulled the poor wretch out. 

The female that I saved? Ah yes,
To yield the Morgue of one corpse the less,
Apart from all heroic action,
Gave me a moral satisfaction.
was she an old and withered hag,
Too tired of life to long to lag?
Ah no, she was so young and fair
I fell in love with her right there. 

And when she took me to her attic
Her gratitude was most emphatic.
A sweet and simple girl she proved,
Distraught because the man ...Read more of this...

...ount a thought
not carelessly

in times forgotten, except by the New York Times
which can't forget. There is always the morgue.
There are men in the morgue.
These men have access. Sleepless, in position,
they dream the past forever
Colossal in the dawn comes the second light

we do all die, in the floor, in the morgue
and we must die forever, c'est la mort
a heady brilliance
the ultimate gloire
post-mach, probably in underwear
as we met each other once....Read more of this...

...respond
Should you turn a smiling face.
Play your part, poor pretty doll;
Feast and frolic, pose and prink;
There's the Morgue to end it all,
And it's later than you think.

Yon's a playwright -- mark his face,
Puffed and purple, tense and tired;
Pasha-like he holds his place,
Hated, envied and admired.
How you gobble life, my friend;
Wine, and woman soft and pink!
Well, each tether has its end:
Sir, it's later than you think.

See yon living scarecrow pass
With a wild and wo...Read more of this...

...eart. . . ."
Aye, and he held so tight, you know,
 They were hard to force apart.

No! Paris isn't always gay;
 And the morgue has its stories too:
You are a writer of tales, you say --
 Then there is a tale for you....Read more of this...

...not near my kin till pay was spent. 
He was not old, yet seemed so; for his face 
Looked like the drowned man's in the morgue, when it 
Has struck the wooden wharves and keels of ships. 
And all his flesh was pricked with Indian ink, 
His body marked as rare and delicate 
As dead men struck by lightning under trees 
And pictured with fine twigs and curlèd ferns; 
Chains on his neck and anchors on his arms; 
Rings on his fingers, bracelets on his wrist; 
And on his breast the...Read more of this...

...re idols but me,

Me and you.
So, in their sulfur loveliness, in their smiles

These mannequins lean tonight
In Munich, morgue between Paris and Rome,

Naked and bald in their furs,
Orange lollies on silver sticks,

Intolerable, without mind.
The snow drops its pieces of darkness,

Nobody's about. In the hotels
Hands will be opening doors and setting

Down shoes for a polish of carbon
Into which broad toes will go tomorrow.

O the domesticity of these windows,
The baby lace, ...Read more of this...

...t battle through. 

They make a great sensation 
About famous men that fail, 
That sink a world of chances 
In the city morgue or gaol, 
Who drink, or blow their brains out, 
Because of "Fortune's frown". 
But we hear far too little 
Of the men who won't go down. 

The world is full of trouble, 
And the world is full of wrong, 
But the heart of man is noble, 
And the heart of man is strong! 
They say the sea sings dirges, 
But I would say to you 
That the wild wave's song's a...Read more of this...

...Either at my friend's daughter's
sixteen-year-old body dumped
on the morgue slab, T-shirt
stuck fast to one ripped 
breast I identified quick, and then
got out of there

or at the old gentleman
with tubes in the living room, spittle
stained in his wispy 
beard, out of 
the corner of my eye I hardly
notice it, how

could I, drink in hand
at five-thirty, at the least
sign of pain one of us always itches
to turn away, another tu...Read more of this...

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