Child Idyll (Idyl) Poems | Examples
These Child Idyll (Idyl) poems are examples of Idyll (Idyl) poems about Child. These are the best examples of Idyll (Idyl) Child poems written by international poets.
Unheeded in the spread of his name, quaking
Through the knit brow cuddling the sombre eye
Twice buckled into the couch of his yearning
The mouldy cast of unsculptured hands, moulting
In the surging sweaty cries' unexpected sigh
Sooner lost than won with unrenewed longing
Every day, every night in chastened haste, calling
That one face, one hand trembling on bosomy thigh
Through all the twigs of his knotty brooding
Mighty log in the dismembered chips, raking
In uneasy orgasms of a protracted lie
The woman clasped in the memory revolting
Fleshy hair to press, hovering nostrils, drinking
In the incensing vapours, and that face a wry
Screaming in the rubbing spasm, a bloody cursing
All, all and more, and the biting shame, clawing
Now at the name, silently growing, that shy
Child of old hopefully shared and lingered moaning
© T. Wignesan, 1960, first pub. in "Forum Academicum", University of Heidelberg, 1957 (from the collection: Tracks of a Tramp. Kuala Lumpur-Singapore: 1961)
Not under a Banyan tree
I drink coffee under an elm tree, one of many in the avenue; filtered sunlight
makes shifting pattern on the pavements, and the sun loses its cruel power.
A willowy woman walks into the only café where one can smoke, she likes to
drink coffee with her cigarette, her dog sits by the door looking in waiting.
A woman in her sixties who wears a long flowering dress, plenty of bracelets
and rings, too exotic to be Portuguese, is coming up the road. Married three
times, first to an army officer, from an aristocratic family, then to a Swiss
engineer, who built ski-lifts in the Alps. Her third husband is a poet and that
makes her sigh (downhill all the way dear) She frets about her daughter, who
is forty and not yet married. She had hoped her child would wed into
lofty society, but now she wishes her only offspring will find a man with
a steady job; not a cook or a waiter though, one must draw a line somewhere.
She has a glass of beer shows me her latest bracelet, bought this morning;
she smiles happy as a child as the sun goes on shining and leaves on elm trees
are deep, cooling green.
One night the sunset rolled down soft and slow behind the hills afar,
and I sat rocking back and forth with rhythm in the trees as headlights drove away,
and turned my gaze from sky above where Venus and her brightest friends came
out to play,
to tracing helter-skelter paths of tiny crimson ants criss-crossing broken bricks
below my feet like scars,
and I thought of all the moments in my life that led me here, and how the ocean
spreads across the world to touch the shore,
and how the mother keeps her child so close and does adore, and I thought of
you, of but a girl, but whom I hold so dear
The yolk simmers
a large golden spread
far as eye can take
The heat piercing through
dots the lavish paint
with tiny red wounds
The ragged yellow-brown
greasy lace curtain
hugs the ashen wall
A child is waiting
the outsides interlope-in
sounds,smells,sweet'n sour
In haze within
fleeting shades swirl
on a weary-go-round
Eternity ticks on...
he's a willing puppy
after one fatty bone!
The canvas lifts
and in the russet dungeon
a sudden growing glow
A glimmering amber force
striding down stone steps
and then...he's free!
To a universe pink and green
silken air, velvety earth
riding on a rising cloud
The light appearing
in swaddling white
urges him on...
Jubilant, wondering
he takes a doubting step
but he falters, then falls...