Famous Souvenirs Poems by Famous Poets

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Demolition

 The intact facade's now almost black 
in the rain; all day they've torn at the back 
of the building, "the oldest concrete structure 
in New England," the newspaper said. By afternoon, 
when the backhoe claw appears above 
three stories of columns and cornices, 

the crowd beneath their massed umbrellas cheer. 
Suddenly the stairs seem to climb down themselves, 
atomized...Read more of this...

Warble for Lilac-Time

 WARBLE me now, for joy of Lilac-time, 
Sort me, O tongue and lips, for Nature’s sake, and sweet life’s sake—and
 death’s the same as life’s, 
Souvenirs of earliest summer—birds’ eggs, and the first berries; 
Gather the welcome signs, (as children, with pebbles, or stringing shells;) 
Put in April and May—the hylas croaking in the ponds—the elastic air,
Bees, butterflies, the...Read more of this...

Souvenirs of Democracy

 THE business man, the acquirer vast, 
After assiduous years, surveying results, preparing for departure, 
Devises houses and lands to his children—bequeaths stocks, goods—funds for a
 school
 or hospital, 
Leaves money to certain companions to buy tokens, souvenirs of gems and gold; 
Parceling out with care—And then, to prevent all cavil,
His name to his testament formally signs. 

But I, my...Read more of this...

Governors On Sominex

 It had been four days of no weather
as if nature had conceded its genius to the indoors.

They'd closed down the Bureau of Sad Endings
and my wife sat on the couch and read the paper out loud.

The evening edition carried the magic death of a child
backlit by a construction site sunrise on its front page.

I kept my back to her...Read more of this...

Early Love Revisited

 ("O douleur! j'ai voulu savoir.") 
 
 {XXXIV. i., October, 183-.} 


 I have wished in the grief of my heart to know 
 If the vase yet treasured that nectar so clear, 
 And to see what this beautiful valley could show 
 Of all that was once to my soul most dear. 
 In how short a...Read more of this...

The Death Of Marie Toro

 We're taking Marie Toro to her home in Père-La-Chaise;
We're taking Marie Toro to her last resting-place.
Behold! her hearse is hung with wreaths till everything is hid
Except the blossoms heaping high upon her coffin lid.
A week ago she roamed the street, a draggle and a ****,
A by-word of the Boulevard and everybody's butt;
A week ago she haunted us, we heard...Read more of this...

The Guardian Angel Of The Little Utopia

 Shall I move the flowers again?
Shall I put them further to the left
into the light?
Win that fix it, will that arrange the
thing?
Yellow sky.
Faint cricket in the dried-out bush.
As I approach, my footfall in the leaves
drowns out the cricket-chirping I was
coming close to hear 
Yellow sky with black leaves rearranging it.
Wind rearranging the black leaves in it.
But anyway I am...Read more of this...

Coral

 This coral's hape ecohes the hand
It hollowed. Its

Immediate absence is heavy. As pumice,
As your breast in my cupped palm.

Sea-cold, its nipple rasps like sand,
Its pores, like yours, shone with salt sweat.

Bodies in absence displace their weight,
And your smooth body, like none other,

Creates an exact absence like this stoneSet on a table with a whitening rack

Of souvenirs. It dares my...Read more of this...

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