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Ezra Pound Short Poems

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


by Ezra Pound
 I was in love with anatomy
the symmetry of my body
poised for flight,
the heights it would take
over parents, lovers, a keen
riding over truth and detail.
I thought growing up would be this rising from everything old and earthly, not these faltering steps out the door every day, then back again.



by Ezra Pound
 It rests me to be among beautiful women
Why should one always lie about such matters?
I repeat:
It rests me to converse with beautiful women
Even though we talk nothing but nonsense,

The purring of the invisible antennae
Is both stimulating and delightful.

by Ezra Pound
 The petals fall in the fountain, 
the orange-coloured rose-leaves, 
Their ochre clings to the stone.

by Ezra Pound
 Winter is icummen in, 
Lhude sing Goddamm.
Raineth drop and staineth slop, And how the wind doth ramm! Sing: Goddamm.
Skiddeth bus and sloppeth us, An ague hath my ham.
Freezeth river, turneth liver, Damn you, sing: Goddamm.
Goddamm, Goddamm, 'tis why I am, Goddamm, So 'gainst the winter's balm.
Sing goddamm, damm, sing Goddamm.
Sing goddamm, sing goddamm, DAMM.
A parody of the Anglo-Saxon poem, Cuckoo Song

by Ezra Pound
 Luini in porcelain! 
The grand piano 
Utters a profane 
Protest with her clear soprano.
The sleek head emerges From the gold-yellow frock As Anadyomene in the opening Pages of Reinach.
Honey-red, closing the face-oval, A basket-work of braids which seem as if they were Spun in King Minos' hall From metal, or intractable amber; The face-oval beneath the glaze, Bright in its suave bounding-line, as, Beneath half-watt rays, The eyes turn topaz.

by Ezra Pound
 And the days are not full enough
And the nights are not full enough
And life slips by like a field mouse
Not shaking the grass

A Pact  Create an image from this poem
by Ezra Pound
 I make a pact with you, Walt Whitman-- 
I have detested you long enough.
I come to you as a grown child Who has had a pig-headed father; I am old enough now to make friends.
It was you that broke the new wood, Now is a time for carving.
We have one sap and one root-- Let there be commerce between us.



by Ezra Pound
 All the while they were talking the new morality
Her eyes explored me.
And when I rose to go Her fingers were like the tissue Of a Japanese paper napkin.

by Ezra Pound
 The small dogs look at the big dogs;
They observe unwieldy dimensions
And curious imperfections of odor.
Here is the formal male group: The young men look upon their seniors, They consider the elderly mind And observe its inexplicable correlations.
Said Tsin-Tsu: It is only in small dogs and the young That we find minute observation

by Amy Lowell
 To Ezra Pound;With 
much friendship and admiration and some differences of opinion

by Ezra Pound
 O generation of the thoroughly smug
 and thoroughly uncomfortable,
I have seen fishermen picnicking in the sun,
I have seen them with untidy families,
I have seen their smiles full of teeth
 and heard ungainly laughter.
And I am happier than you are, And they were happier than I am; And the fish swim in the lake and do not even own clothing.

by Ezra Pound
 I am a grave poetic hen
That lays poetic eggs
And to enhance my temperament
A little quiet begs.
We make the yolk philosophy, True beauty the albumen.
And then gum on a shell of form To make the screed sound human.

by Ezra Pound
 Sing we for love and idleness,
Naught else is worth the having.
Though I have been in many a land, There is naught else in living.
And I would rather have my sweet, Though rose-leaves die of grieving, Than do high deeds in Hungary To pass all men's believing.

by Ezra Pound
 When I carefully consider the curious habits of dogs
I am compelled to conclude
That man is the superior animal.
When I consider the curious habits of man I confess, my friend, I am puzzled.

by Ezra Pound
 You came in out of the night
And there were flowers in your hand,
Now you will come out of a confusion of people,
Out of a turmoil of speech about you.
I who have seen you amid the primal things Was angry when they spoke your name IN ordinary places.
I would that the cool waves might flow over my mind, And that the world should dry as a dead leaf, Or as a dandelion see-pod and be swept away, So that I might find you again, Alone.

Alba  Create an image from this poem
by Ezra Pound
 As cool as the pale wet leaves 
of lily-of-the-valley 
She lay beside me in the dawn.

A Girl  Create an image from this poem
by Ezra Pound
 The tree has entered my hands, 
The sap has ascended my arms, 
The tree has grown in my breast- 
Downward, 
The branches grow out of me, like arms.
Tree you are, Moss you are, You are violets with wind above them.
A child - so high - you are, And all this is folly to the world.

by Ezra Pound
 I have tried to write Paradise

Do not move
Let the wind speak
that is paradise.
Let the Gods forgive what I have made Let those I love try to forgive what I have made.

by Ezra Pound
 As a bathtub lined with white porcelain, 
When the hot water gives out or goes tepid, 
So is the slow cooling of our chivalrous passion, 
O my much praised but-not-altogether-satisfactory lady.

by Ezra Pound
 It is, and is not, I am sane enough,
Since you have come this place has hovered round me,
This fabrication built of autumn roses,
Then there's a goldish colour, different.
And one gropes in these things as delicate Algæ reach up and out, beneath Pale slow green surgings of the underwave, 'Mid these things older than the names they have, These things that are familiears of the god.

by Ezra Pound
 The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough.

by Ezra Pound
 Blue mountains to the north of the walls,
White river winding about them;
Here we must make separation
And go out through a thousand miles of dead grass.
Mind like a floating wide cloud, Sunset like the parting of old acquaintances Who bow over their clasped hands at a distance.
Our horses neigh to each others as we are departing.

LArt  Create an image from this poem
by Ezra Pound
 Green arsenic smeared on an egg-white cloth,
Crushed strawberries! Come, let us feast our eyes.

by Ezra Pound
 Lord God of heaven that with mercy dight 
Th'alternate prayer wheel of the night and light 
Eternal hath to thee, and in whose sight 
Our days as rain drops in the sea surge fall,

As bright white drops upon a leaden sea 
Grant so my songs to this grey folk may be:

As drops that dream and gleam and falling catch the sun 
Evan'scent mirrors every opal one 
Of such his splendor as their compass is, 
So, bold My Songs, seek ye such death as this.

by Ezra Pound
 O woe, woe, 
People are born and die, 
We also shall be dead pretty soon 
Therefore let us act as if we were 
dead already.
The bird sits on the hawthorn tree But he dies also, presently.
Some lads get hung, and some get shot.
Woeful is this human lot.
Woe! woe, etcetera .
.
.
.
London is a woeful place, Shropshire is much pleasanter.
Then let us smile a little space Upon fond nature's morbid grace.
Oh, Woe, woe, woe, etcetera .
.
.


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