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Allen Ginsberg Short Poems

Famous Short Allen Ginsberg Poems. Short poetry by famous poet Allen Ginsberg. A collection of the all-time best Allen Ginsberg short poems


by Allen Ginsberg
 When I died, love, when I died
my heart was broken in your care;
I never suffered love so fair
as now I suffer and abide
when I died, love, when I died.
When I died, love, when I died I wearied in an endless maze that men have walked for centuries, as endless as the gate was wide when I died, love, when I died.
When I died, love, when I died there was a war in the upper air: all that happens, happens there; there was an angel by my side when I died, love, when I died.



by Allen Ginsberg
 I speak of love that comes to mind:
The moon is faithful, although blind;
She moves in thought she cannot speak.
Perfect care has made her bleak.
I never dreamed the sea so deep, The earth so dark; so long my sleep, I have become another child.
I wake to see the world go wild.

by Allen Ginsberg
 Now mind is clear
as a cloudless sky.
Time then to make a home in wilderness.
What have I done but wander with my eyes in the trees? So I will build: wife, family, and seek for neighbors.
Or I perish of lonesomeness or want of food or lightning or the bear (must tame the hart and wear the bear).
And maybe make an image of my wandering, a little image—shrine by the roadside to signify to traveler that I live here in the wilderness awake and at home.

by Allen Ginsberg
 The air is dark, the night is sad,
I lie sleepless and I groan.
Nobody cares when a man goes mad: He is sorry, God is glad.
Shadow changes into bone.
Every shadow has a name; When I think of mine I moan, I hear rumors of such fame.
Not for pride, but only shame, Shadow changes into bone.
When I blush I weep for joy, And laughter drops from me like a stone: The aging laughter of the boy To see the ageless dead so coy.
Shadow changes into bone.

by Allen Ginsberg
 That tree said
 I don't like that white car under me,
 it smells gasoline
That other tree next to it said
 O you're always complaining
 you're a neurotic
 you can see by the way you're bent over.
July 6, 1981, 8 p.
m.

by Allen Ginsberg
 Kissass is the Part of Peace
America will have to Kissass Mother Earth
Whites have to Kissass Blacks, for Peace & Pleasure,
Only Pathway to Peace, Kissass.

by Allen Ginsberg
 Pigeons shake their wings on the copper church roof
out my window across the street, a bird perched on the cross
surveys the city's blue-grey clouds.
Larry Rivers 'll come at 10 AM and take my picture.
I'm taking your picture, pigeons.
I'm writing you down, Dawn.
I'm immortalizing your exhaust, Avenue A bus.
O Thought! Now you'll have to think the same thing forever! New York, June 7, 1980, 6:48 A.
M.




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