Louise Bogan Short Poems | Poetry

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

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Louise Bogan | Short Famous Poems and Poets

 
by Louise Bogan

Solitary Observation Brought Back From A Sojourn In Hell

 At midnight tears
Run in your ears.


by Louise Bogan

Knowledge

 Now that I know
How passion warms little
Of flesh in the mould,
And treasure is brittle,--

I'll lie here and learn
How, over their ground
Trees make a long shadow
And a light sound.


by Louise Bogan

Portrait

 A child draws the outline of a body.
She draws what she can, but it is white all through, she cannot fill in what she knows is there.
Within the unsupported line, she knows that life is missing; she has cut one background from another.
Like a child, she turns to her mother.
And you draw the heart against the emptiness she has created.


by Louise Bogan

The Alchemist

 I burned my life, that I may find
A passion wholly of the mind,
Thought divorced from eye and bone
Ecstasy come to breath alone.
I broke my life, to seek relief From the flawed light of love and grief.
With mounting beat the utter fire Charred existence and desire.
It died low, ceased its sudden thresh.
I had found unmysterious flesh-- Not the mind's avid substance--still Passionate beyond the will.


by Louise Bogan

Tears In Sleep

 All night the cocks crew, under a moon like day,
And I, in the cage of sleep, on a stranger's breast,
Shed tears, like a task not to be put away---
In the false light, false grief in my happy bed,
A labor of tears, set against joy's undoing.
I would not wake at your word, I had tears to say.
I clung to the bars of the dream and they were said, And pain's derisive hand had given me rest From the night giving off flames, and the dark renewing.


by Louise Bogan

Portrait

 She has no need to fear the fall 
Of harvest from the laddered reach 
Of orchards, nor the tide gone ebbing 
 From the steep beach.
Nor hold to pain's effrontery Her body's bulwark, stern and savage, Nor be a glass, where to forsee Another's ravage.
What she has gathered, and what lost, She will not find to lose again.
She is possessed by time, who once Was loved by men.


by Louise Bogan

Juans Song

 When beauty breaks and falls asunder
I feel no grief for it, but wonder.
When love, like a frail shell, lies broken, I keep no chip of it for token.
I never had a man for friend Who did not know that love must end.
I never had a girl for lover Who could discern when love was over.
What the wise doubt, the fool believes-- Who is it, then, that love deceives?


by Louise Bogan

Epitaph For A Romantic Woman

 She has attained the permanence 
She dreamed of, where old stones lie sunning.
Untended stalks blow over her Even and swift, like young men running.
Always in the heart she loved Others had lived, -- she heard their laughter.
She lies where none has lain before, Where certainly none will follow after.


by Louise Bogan

Chanson Un Peu Naïve

 What body can be ploughed,
Sown, and broken yearly?
But she would not die, she vowed,
But she has, nearly.
Sing, heart sing; Call and carol clearly.
And, since she could not die, Care would be a feather, A film over the eye Of two that lie together.
Fly, song, fly, Break your little tether.
So from strength concealed She makes her pretty boast: Plain is a furrow healed And she may love you most.
Cry, song, cry, And hear your crying lost.


by Louise Bogan

The Dream

 I have a dream
to fill the golden sheath
of a remembered day.
.
.
.
(Air heavy and massed and blue as the vapor of opium.
.
.
domes fired in sulphurous mist.
.
.
sea quiescent as a gray seal.
.
.
and the emerging sun spurting up gold over Sydney, smoke-pale, rising out of the bay.
.
.
.
) But the day is an up-turned cup and its sun a junk of red iron guttering in sluggish-green water-- where shall I pour my dream?


by Louise Bogan

Roman Fountain

 Up from the bronze, I saw
Water without a flaw
Rush to its rest in air,
Reach to its rest, and fall.
Bronze of the blackest shade, An element man-made, Shaping upright the bare Clear gouts of water in air.
O, as with arm and hammer, Still it is good to strive To beat out the image whole, To echo the shout and stammer When full-gushed waters, alive, Strike on the fountain's bowl After the air of summer.


by Louise Bogan

The Frightened Man

 In fear of the rich mouth
I kissed the thin,--
Even that was a trap
To snare me in.
Even she, so long The frail, the scentless, Is become strong, And proves relentless.
O, forget her praise, And how I sought her Through a hazardous maze By shafted water.


by Louise Bogan

The Dream

 I WOKE to find my pillow wet
 With the tears for deeds deep hid in sleep.
I knew no sorrow here, but yet The tears fell softly through the deep.
Your eyes, your other eyes of dream, Looked at me through the veil of blank; I saw their joyous, starlit gleam Like one who watches rank on rank.
His victor airy legions wind And pass before his awful throne— Was there thy loving heart unkind, Was I thy captive all o’erthrown?


by Louise Bogan

Men Loved Wholly Beyond Wisdom

 Men loved wholly beyond wisdom
Have the staff without the banner.
Like a fire in a dry thicket Rising within women's eyes Is the love men must return.
Heart, so subtle now, and trembling, What a marvel to be wise.
, To love never in this manner! To be quiet in the fern Like a thing gone dead and still, Listening to the prisoned cricket Shake its terrible dissembling Music in the granite hill.


by Louise Bogan

Last Hill In A Vista

 Come, let us tell the weeds in ditches
How we are poor, who once had riches,
And lie out in the sparse and sodden
Pastures that the cows have trodden,
The while an autumn night seals down
The comforts of the wooden town.
Come, let us counsel some cold stranger How we sought safety, but loved danger.
So, with stiff walls about us, we Chose this more fragile boundary: Hills, where light poplars, the firm oak, Loosen into a little smoke.